So it's official.

Sep. 5th, 2002 10:19 pm
aruan: (Default)
[personal profile] aruan
Lance's feet are a little less happy as of today's final announcement from the Russians that his mission to space has been grounded.

I could cry, blaming neither hormones nor personal favor. But what really kills is that it's not because he failed to meet some sort of physical criteria, or that the planned training just couldn't have been completed in the window they had, or the equipment turnout out to be somehow malfunctional. It came down to bureacracy and contracts and money.

How do you put a price on a young man's dreams?

How dare you?

I can't even get through this post. I mean, we all have dreams, but how many of us actually get the opportunities to make them come true? JC has wanted to be a singer since emerging from the womb - he's now part of a globally reknown and immensely successful boyband. Justin's first words were probably "Beat It" and at last year's VMAs, he got to perform with Michael Jackson. Joey's always wanted to be a famous actor - you may've heard that he's now starring as Mark in Rent, a critically acclaimed show and audience favorite which has been running for years under the Broadway lights. Chris in his so humble they're humbling roots has wanted to sing, yes, but more importantly, he's wanted to achieve a secure life, take care of his mother, and make it on his own. He now owns his own clothing company and has more platinum to his name than most miners have ever seen. And then there's Lance. Lance the smalltown Mississippi boy who dreamt of being an astronaut even before he could pronounce the word. Lance whose ambitions turned to acting, with spectacularly disastrous results. Who was invited to live the ultimate fantasy - to go up into space. He's trained. He's lived in Russia, acquiring the language and memorizing the technical jargon and practicing the safety procedures and having physical exams and undergoing heart surgery and learning laboratory experimentation for months and all of a sudden, because there was a chink in a single word of a single sentence of a four hundred page document about just who gets the broadcast copyright to the image of him trying to drink a bottle of Pepsi in zero gravity which is keeping the sponsors up in the air and I just want to scream with the outrage that's churning my bile.


I'm having an "I hate the universe" evening. It's exactly that very cold, cruel void that so many have accused, empty and utterly heartless. This is wrong. It's just wrong.

Don't put me at the head of your army tonight.

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