We live in a topsy-turvy world, just like Dr. Peter Venkman said in Ghostbusters: “Human sacrifice, dogs and cats living together, mass hysteria!”
The putative adults allegedly running the country act like children; young people, still in high school, present thoughtful and mature perspectives on the pressing issues of the day. Multi-billion dollar corporations complain publically that the costs of doing business are driving them out of business; small local companies happily pitch in to make their cities better places. Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups become just a minor player in the Reese’s candy company product line; M&M’s melt in your hand, not in your mouth.
So, you may as well embrace the backwardness of it all; or, I guess, in keeping with the upside-down theme, have it embrace you.
Case in point: instead of the usual route from south to north behind Husky stadium, (where nearly every day commuting to work, you “say a little prayer for Dan” at the spot he did his Halloween face-plant), you ride the reverse route, down through the Ravenna trails—which turn out to be remarkably shorter on the descent than the ascent. Fremont Boulevard, typically a late night bomb down towards the water, then, becomes an early evening slog up to provisioning and then a charming little spot overlooking the vast light industrial wasteland of Freelard.
And as Mullet (né Mohawk) Mike observed, you can sometimes, if you try, turn the setting sun around instead to the become the rotating earth; lean back and enjoy the ride; imagine the planet-sized Ferris wheel slowly somersaulting heels over head.
“Life,” said the proto-Existentialist philosopher Soren Kierkegaard, “can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.”
Well, sorta.
As we’ve seen, there are times (often between the hours of 7:30 and midnight on a Thursday) where the living happens in reverse; little joys become huge; the mundane spectacular; movement stillness; and the many, one.
Understanding, though, looms forward, still to come.
The putative adults allegedly running the country act like children; young people, still in high school, present thoughtful and mature perspectives on the pressing issues of the day. Multi-billion dollar corporations complain publically that the costs of doing business are driving them out of business; small local companies happily pitch in to make their cities better places. Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups become just a minor player in the Reese’s candy company product line; M&M’s melt in your hand, not in your mouth.
So, you may as well embrace the backwardness of it all; or, I guess, in keeping with the upside-down theme, have it embrace you.
Case in point: instead of the usual route from south to north behind Husky stadium, (where nearly every day commuting to work, you “say a little prayer for Dan” at the spot he did his Halloween face-plant), you ride the reverse route, down through the Ravenna trails—which turn out to be remarkably shorter on the descent than the ascent. Fremont Boulevard, typically a late night bomb down towards the water, then, becomes an early evening slog up to provisioning and then a charming little spot overlooking the vast light industrial wasteland of Freelard.
And as Mullet (né Mohawk) Mike observed, you can sometimes, if you try, turn the setting sun around instead to the become the rotating earth; lean back and enjoy the ride; imagine the planet-sized Ferris wheel slowly somersaulting heels over head.
“Life,” said the proto-Existentialist philosopher Soren Kierkegaard, “can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards.”
Well, sorta.
As we’ve seen, there are times (often between the hours of 7:30 and midnight on a Thursday) where the living happens in reverse; little joys become huge; the mundane spectacular; movement stillness; and the many, one.
Understanding, though, looms forward, still to come.
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