In Honor of Marvin

Liz recently posted about moving mountains. The genesis of this post was our watching Sicko. We both enjoy Michael Moore and even though we(i.e., I) don't always agree with his politics, he sure does know how to make an entertaining movie. My favorite part of Sicko was when he wrote a check to cover one of his critic's wife's medical bills. Like I said, if nothing else (and I do think there is something else), Moore is an entertainer. One of my favorite moments is his Charleton Heston (may he rest in peace) ambush in Bowling for Columbine. It's not often that a movie makes me squirm.

But I digress. Moving Mountains. The day after we watched Sicko, we were driving (we always seem to be driving in Az.) and Liz was doing her communication thing, which I stand in awe of, and I couldn't find anything to say (which wasn't that surprising). We talked about our passions and using those to build the foundation of some tool that we would then use to build a better world.

Liz's task is easy (to me). She has so many passions and more importantly talent that she just needs to pick and do. Me, that's a different story.

My passions (in no particular order and excluding family):

- Running
- Politics
- Um
- I swear I have another one
- Still thinking

It's interesting. People have commented to myself and Liz that I am difficult to decipher because I don't say much and that I must be thinking about really heady stuff. Well, let me clear that up. Here's a sample of my brain activity when I'm not speaking.

"--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------."

It's that exciting.

So here I am, approaching the peak of my intellectual powers, with two passions and without an extraordinary amount of talent in either one (this is NOT a not so silent plea for affirmation), and I have nothing interesting to use them on. Even worse might be the realization that my powers are unfortunately, not super. All I've ever wanted to do was to turn into a pterodactyl (why did the girl always get to turn into cool creatures and the boy was always stuck being a pail of water?)

In other news, twice this past week on separate flights, I thought for an instant that I was going to die. Flying does not freak me out. I've logged too many miles. However, there are occasions when something happens that hasn't happened the other 80 times I've flown this year and death does cross the mind. The weird part is what I thought about in those two instances.

"Well, this will be interesting. Or not" I probably would have been bored two minutes after dying anyway.