Wednesday, July 06, 2005

Lost in Space



That's how I feel lately. Remember just a few days ago how NASA scientists rejoiced at having their mathematical and scientific talents rewarded by witnessing a man-made spacecraft expertly crash into the leading edge of a comet? What so many people didn't pay much attention to was the fact that the entire event was caught on camera - from not-so-very afar. A "mother ship" was set in position on an interception course with the speeding comet, just waiting to jettison its lander to plunge into the mass of dust, ice, and supposedly life-enabling other material. A scientific orgasm of sorts was expected and indeed occurred.

I am that mother ship. I put myself on course to rendez-vous with a tiny little rock hurtling through space - a proverbial pebble containing some specific mass of happiness (Tons? Pounds? Ounces? Or does God prefer metric?) to which I calculated a perfectly straight trajectory accounting for every variable conceivable to man. Alas, just the conceivable ones... Something beyond my perception occurred at just the right moment to alter my course around the comet, however. I am left with my payload, alone in space after the temporary blinding effect of the corona passed before my wide-open, disbelieving - now sad - eyes. All I can do is watch my failed destiny and its seemingly magical tail stretch away from me.

In times like these I turn to my anthem of loneliness - "Table for Two" by Caedmon's Call:

Because I'm so scared of being alone / That I forget what house I live in. /But it's not my job to wait by the phone / For [him] to call... /... /And You know the plans that You have for me /And You can't plan the end and not plan the means /And so I suppose I just need some peace /Just to get me to sleep.
Oh, what I wouldn't give for a peaceful night's rest.