Distractions

It's funny how easily we can become distracted. After I discovered the joy of blogging a few weeks ago, it was so easy to set it aside for over a week during the "thick" of exams. Now that exams are over (and fearing the loss of my three readers), I have returned to blog.

Distraction does not just extend to all things academic. I was thinking about some of my most oddly distracting moments. One especially stood out. It was just after I returned from a stint in the Middle East with the Army. I was lucky and was stationed in Kuwait while a unit to which I was once assigned was located in northern Iraq, in Mosul.

One night, after hearing from my father about the importance of reading "edifying" literature and alternating trash with the classics, I picked up my grandfather's copy of the Travels of Marco Polo and decided to give a glance. Chapter 6 of Book 1 details Marco's experiences in Mosul. Marco writes, "Mosul is a large province inhabited by various descriptions of people, one class of whom pay reverence to Mahomet [sic], and are called Arabians. The others profess the Christian faith..." His description is brief and pointed.

Not ten minutes after reading this description, close to the beginning of his commentary, there was a news flash on CNN which was left on in the room detailing an attack on U.S. troops on Mosul that day. I was scared. I was worried about the people I had served with for several years who I knew were in harm's way. Then it happened...

The next news flash was about Paris Hilton, damn Paris Hilton. In that instant it was gone. The concern, the fear, the fright had vanished and I was instantly concerned solely with the heiress's misfortune, or self-produced porno, or new car, or whatever it was the placed her in the news. I was embarrassed.

The sad thing is, it isn't just me. That's the way we work anymore. Our concerns aren't just the significant things, the concerns of the nation now at war for three plus years. We are as likely to be concerned with the miniscule as the grandiose. The minute we have a serious concern, some dick cuts you off on the highway and it's gone, your concerns have shifted to the worthless problems we have made ourselves painfully worried about.

I guess I got it right ultimately. I don't remember why Hotel Paris had a sound bite. I'm sure it was "hot" and "sexy." It's gone now. Thankfully, I still remember well my friends who served with me and far more valiantly than me. I thank them every day.