been running around like a chicken with my head cut off lately, so when i stepped out of the house for a moment tonight, i thought i'd make a wish on the first star i saw. i looked up and it was huge, so big it wasn't even twinkling. technically that means it was a planet. that is fine; i made my wish anyways. and then i thought, really thought about these little twinkling points that are the sun-bathed or combusting and enormous astral objects located light-years, or hundreds of light-years, or millions of light-years away from us, from myself, as i stood on my parents' lawn a few hours ago. stars and planets and moons and galaxies that were named millenia ago by arabs and greeks. objects so old that they might not exist anymore except for the light that their chemical reactions created once-upon-a-time. just now reaching my eyes. knowing all this, can you blame me for caring less, perhaps, than people would like me to, about the day's petty problems? over the long run, everything is just so beautiful and glorious. things only look ugly if you project ugliness onto them.