On the timeliness of media

 Everything has its season
Everything has its time....

Last night, Gabriel and I went to see the University of Memphis' production of Pippin. I could say a lot about it. I was not keen on the update, which cut a lot of the humor and several verses of songs. I could say it was the gayest thing I've ever seen and I do drag. When local queen Imagene Azengraber is not the gayest thing in the production, we are talking gaaaaaaaaaaaay. Technically, it was glorious. The Leading Player was perfection. The rest of the cast was pretty good. Pippin blew out his voice by the end of Act 1.

Anyway, that's not what I'm thinking about.

Gabriel did not quite get the musical. And he did not like what he did get. And he asked me why I was so fond of a musical that was not only anti-pagan (Charlemagne campaigning against the non-Christian tribes around him) but gave the message that the only way to be happy is to settle. But even if you settle, your kids will still be seduced by their own dreams of glory.  (New ending, and one I wasn't a fan of)

It took some thought. 

Pippin was the right musical at the right time. Just as Gabriel had Ender's Game, which I hated (a horrible book about abusive adults training child soldiers), I had Pippin. I was a gifted child. I was trapped in an abusive home life. I wanted magic and miracles. I had done both (magic kit and chem set) and wanted more.

And at 17, with the highest ACT scores ever seen by our school counselor, my college apps already in, and life at home growing more intolerable by the day, I needed my corner of the sky so badly. "Extraordinary"--which, last night, had lost all context around it, and was presented as whiny--was my rage anthem. I was going to go out and do great things. I just had to get out of Peculiar and out of my mom's house. 

Once I did, I ended up as rudderless as Pippin. He tries everything: war, being king, sins of the flesh, politics, art, religion, everything. He is waiting for the truly satisfying thing to drop in his lap. 

I was undiagnosed ADHD. I fought my way through college, got a degree I am still embarrassed by, and then tried the life of a religious devotee, called to making babies for God. Eventually, I tried every bad job in Rolla, Little Rock and Memphis, trying to even find the right track. I've slung coins in a casino, worked cash registers, and was generally directionless until I got my CDL. Professional driving is the only thing I've ever stuck with. That and writing.

Now? Now the kids are grown. I'm back to the life of a religious devotee with my head covered and my hair uncut. I drive a bus. I write and craft and am active with my extended family and my church. I never did do anything great and amazing. Have I settled? Maybe. But I chose to follow other dreams when the first ones were blocked for various reasons (calculus). 

So, 37 years on, where am I?

Trapped. But happy. Which isn't too bad for the end of a musical comedy.
ta-da