NBC wants to take you deeper into the mythology of Revolution.
As part of this they are posting a collection of letters, journal entries, postcards and more on their site.
Aaron’s Journal Entry
Everything Is Awesome
You ever have one of those days when everything goes your way? Yeah, me neither. Until this morning. I woke up and actually felt awake. My back didn’t hurt. AC/DC was on the radio (it seems like I haven’t heard them in forever). My first cup of coffee was so good that I swear – I swear it was the same blend I had on vacation in Costa Rica, straight out of the farmer’s field. Even my toast tasted… toastier.
When good things happen to me, my immediate instinct is to question it. If someone compliments me, it’s because they’re lying. If I make some sort of breakthrough at work, I’m probably about to get sued for patent infringement by a faceless mega-corporation. And don’t get me started on if I get a good seat at a restaurant or if a beautiful woman smiles at me.
But, you know what? Screw it. I accept this gift from the universe with open arms.
So what do you do when fate is smiling on you? I’m going to a Timberwolves game, to see if I can turn around their losing streak. I’m going to eat the biggest, bacon-iest cheeseburger I can find. Because maybe I won’t feel this way tomorrow, but today, life is for living, and doctors don’t know everything.
I wonder if I should take up skydiving?
Holy crap, I just had the best cookie. And I don’t know why, but when I was eating it, I kept thinking about all the ingredients, and how difficult they are to bring together. You have to raise a cow for years just to get milk to then churn into butter. You have to grow a field of wheat for the flour. You also need to own a mill. And salt comes from mines, right? Or from the ocean, which it’d take you months to walk to – but why would you? It’s like I just forgot that planes are a thing. This is a weird day. But if salt was a hard get, don’t get me started on South American chocolate. Or sugar. Or vanilla. And I literally have no idea where baking soda comes from. This is why Priscilla cooks.
I don’t want to even mention it, but there’s also the matter of the terrifying visions of an alternate reality wherein I’m chased on the regular by men with swords. But I choose to hew close to my present reality, because I know which side my bread is buttered on, and I love butter too much to live without it.
Oh. I should have Priscilla make jambalaya!