Touching Down

Is it the peak of the trip that one remembers most vividly in the time after the fall, or is it the rise? What part of whatever act does one derive the greatest amount of glory? The length of the crescendo is what I'm driving at here, as in fucking, the moment of blast off may be quite pleasurable, however the time taken and momentum exerted to get there is what counts, the determinant of whether we have an Apollo or Challenger type situation on our hands. (one reached the moon, the other exploded on the pad; come now, a general knowledge of aeronautic history is after all essential to being a spaceman, in whatever form) One never knows where the peak is until after they've hit the pinnacle and either come down, or moved on to a different plateau altogether, only likely more on top than simply a bucket and a mop and that illustrated book concerning birds. The reality of the situation is, it's how you savor the trip that determines the satisfaction of whatever peaks may rise and fall along the illy journey. I considered the options of the military recently, inquiring as to the potential of a cash sign-on bonus and what benefits I may inure, being a university grad and relatively on point. Upon finding out eighteen months in a hot-zone is the bonus within the branches of primary interest, I considered whether it made sense economically and opportunistically, and said fuck it, got a skin-tight fade and line-up, hustled a glut of academic papers, copped the means to construct a conical fiery machine, and took off with my associates, as I am, after all, a rocket man. This extends to our generation, in that the century is increasingly ours; we've begun in the zeroes, and have no excuse nor possibility but to continue getting higher.