It's been said that absence makes the heart grow fonder, at least by those that drink from half-full glasses...show-offs. But what's worth pondering is the question of whether or not it makes the heart grow despondent as well. The answer is yes it does. So then, we know that absence is responsible for BOTH fondness AND despondency, naturally.
Or do we?
DUH DUH DUH DUUUUHHHHHH.
More importantly, is it the absence or is it distance that is the culprit? Is there a law or foolproof formula that explains despondency? Some simple equation with which one can arrive at a solution?
Einstein came up with the equation E=mc2, which is good if you want to create an awesome amount of energy. Good for him. Pythagoras discovered a2 +b2 = c2, which is good if you want to find out the length of a side of a triangle, keeping in mind that you know the length of two sides. Whoopee for Pythagoras.
And then there is Newton and his three laws of motion. Described as "three physical laws which provide relationships between forces acting on a body and the motion of the body", these rules sound like they just might hold the key to finding an answer to our little problem. Sighhhh.
Stupid Newton and his stupid apple. The only apple that's any good is the one I'm writing this on. Mind you if this Apple were to drop on my head, I would be getting colouring books for Christmas for the rest of my life instead of coming up with a profound discovery of Nature...unless of course, eating pudding through a straw enables me to understand the behavior of black holes.
I watch cartoons, I've seen every Star Wars/Star Trek movie more than once, I still read comics and I can multiply 8635384.40 x 1 in my head THAT QUICKLY! Needless to say, I know what I'm talking about.
But I could use a little help...need a pro with this one.
Stopped by Beakman's World and asked the good 'ol doc for help but he was too busy complaining about a rat problem in the lab and was last heard screaming "You hear me Lester?! I'm going to get medieval on your ass! The Yankees suck!".
Popped into Castle Frightenstein to ask The Professor for his brilliant insight but he was too busy doing Jagerbombs with Dr. Pet Vet and Grizelda while dancing with Igor and the Wolfman to old K.C. and the Sunshine Band records to be of any help.
Visited Stephen Hawking and made the mistake of asking what he has been thinking about. Waited an hour for him to type out "What do the Yankees and Einstein have in common? They both SUCK!" and then another hour to type, asking me if I wanted to see some nudie photos of midgets wearing rubber boots.
Dropped by the studio to ask Oprah. Tom Cruise was there. See ya...
Went to Hallmark Cards and asked them what new evidence they had on whether absence makes the heart fonder and despondent or not. They handed me their latest findings: "Not having you around gives me the same creepy feeling I get when I look at those doll heads they sell at hobby stores. Miss you. And your noncreepy head."
Only one place left where I can go. Chinatown. Abacuses are cheap there and methinks there will be a lot of math and I'm all alone with this one as it turns out.
As I made my purchase, I also made a few startling discoveries. Namely that I break, I buy, boo hoo me and that with six you get egg roll. Fascinating.
However, on the way out I dropped the abacus, causing it to break apart and scatter beads everywhere while shouts of "Boo Hoo You! Boo Hoo You! No Refund!" echoed throughout the store.
I'm nowhere near figuring out this problem but I now have two bracelets and a necklace if anyone is needing to add some simple wooden jewellry to their collection.
Working for the day Fast Forward was no longer needed
If you used a flashy, neon colored transparent blank tape like the Memorex DBS, you could look forward to a "Aww! That's SOOOO NICE!" followed by a hug, which was fantastic because their boobs were starting to become more prominent thus they were WANTING TO BE TOUCHING YOU...with their BOOBS.
If you used a high-end tape like the Maxell XL II Gold or the Sony Metal XR, with the uber-cool looking ROUNDED case, not rectangular with square corners but ROUNDED corners, with the minimalist sticker labels and the DOUBLE sided insert for COMPLETE song title AND artist listing, all on their own line and never bunched up in one long run-on sentence with italicised divider lines like this:
TinSoldier:Martika/WalkTheDinosaur:WasNotWas/TarzanBoy:
Baltimora/TooShy:Kajagoogoo/Animal:Dalbello/DamnIWishIWasYour
Lover:SophieB.Hawkins/Who'sJohnny?:ElDebarge/Let'sGoAllTheWay:SlyFox
then your chances of getting a handjob increased dramatically. No they didn't actually, well maybe, but who knew for sure and OH MY GOD SHE'S SQUEEZING HER BOOBS INTO ME...do I go for the ass grab? Better not, she might get mad and the she would HER FREAKING BOOBS ARE TOUCHING ME!!! YES!
That is taking into consideration the fact, of course, that you used a 120 min. or at the least, a 90 min. tape. If you used a 60 min. tape, wellllll then...what the fuck were you thinking!?
The difference between a good mixtape and a bad mixtape is the same difference between a good lover and a bad lover. EXPERIENCE.
Nowadays, making a mix cd requires no effort during the creation process and yet still provides a great sounding finished product thus severely diminishing the need for appreciation that could and should be bestowed upon you.
Making a mixtape wasn't about compiling music in an easily portable format. It was about getting the perfect blend of music, matching tempos and song keys, matching moods with just the right amount of mood change-up without being too drastic or shocking and above all, finding the right combination of songs that would fit PERFECTLY on both sides of the tape WITHOUT running out of tape mid-song and WITHOUT leaving a minute and a half of silence to be played before having to flip the tape over.
Unless you were cutting edge and had a deck with auto-reverse, then you had the joy of sitting down while waiting. But if the wrong combination of songs was recorded, then yes, even YOU were stuck listening to nothing until the ol' automatic switcheroo took place.
With the advent of technology, we have blistering fast burners, programs that compile playlists according to whichever preferences we may have as well as a recordable format that is ridiculously inexpensive to buy in bulk, making the entire process effortless.
And there, as the Bard once wrote, lies the rub.
The proper mixtape was ALL ABOUT effort. Every aspect of the mixtape involved effort; the conceptualization of the theme, the TITLE of the collection, song selection, gathering the various lp's, cassettes and maybe cd's needed, the writing of the song titles/artists on the insert card and/or the CREATION of an artistic insert, usually a picture cut out from a magazine taped over the insert card.
We're talking about karmic values here people. If you took the time and made the effort to put together a well thought out product then chances were good you would find yourself on the receiving end of joyful accolades and BOOBS, while your musical genius earned you the distinction of having YOUR tape being constantly played.
If you chose not to be bothered whatsoever, then chances were good you would find your gift on the floor in the BACKSEAT of their car, OUTSIDE of its case, scattered with other random tapes, window scrapers and late night drive-thru garbage.
Point being, it wasn't an effort, it was a labour of love. And with the satisfaction of knowing you made something that someone would truly cherish and look forward to enjoying, made it seem less than work...it was worth it. Well...that and the BOOBS.
Guilt sticks to your ribs like oatmeal but is it as filling?
There will always be moments when you stop and ponder over whether or not you have made a mistake. And along with those moments follows the assuring adage "well, you learn from your mistakes", which poo-poos the prior hesitation and allows for the rest of day to be a Disney sing-a-long musical number in all of its Technicolor animated bliss.
but...
as you're zippity-do-dahing down the road with Mr. Bluebird on your shoulder...
blam.
It hits you. Striking through the skin, brain and heart, right smack dab to the center of your being, your core, your center...
your soul.
Puncturing with honest shards, jagged with edges of truth, is the realization that there is no reason to ponder over whether or not you may or may not have made a mistake.
Simply because you didn't. Make a simple mistake, that is. No, we're far past the meek gaffe, the naive error and it's older sibling, the uh oh.
No, what is violently fleshing you away is a totally whole and utterly complete sinking feeling of epic proportion with damning and potentially fatal consequence.
You made a HUGE mistake. Colossal. Quite big, in fact.
uh oh...
Pearl S. Buck wrote " Every great mistake has a halfway moment, a split second when it can be recalled and perhaps remedied."
The bitch of the bunch is clamoring back to that moment despite the fact that it's already too late to do anything anyway. Shall we slip into something more suffocating? Perhaps wrap ourself, no, enshroud ourself in regret? Stands to reason.
I think not however.
Regret, though somewhat inevitable, isn't certain. Sociopaths have this particular talent nailed, lucky-substance abusing-blame-shifting-emotionally catatonic-motherfuckers that they are. Sure, you can wile away the days with should haves, could haves, why did I's and what the fucks? but it still isn't the most life depleting aspect of the situation.
The entire moment of realization is the offending thorn in the side of your conscience. Make a mistake? Could be good, could be bad. NEVER KNOWING you made a mistake? Free of nagging thoughts making you stop and reflect...hmmm. I suppose if you have a conscience, then you would it expect it to kick in. But taking a lesson from our sociopathic friends, not ever having a simple sniff as to what has or has not occured, unable to reflect upon prior action with an ounce of accountability...never suffering from one single solitary pang of guilt.
Is that to be envied?
You be the judge. For the time being, I'm going to flip a coin to determine how I should be feeling as I write this.
Heads I win...tails I lose.
And the only thing I'll have to regret is reaching in my pocket.
You shouldn't Beat It when looking at the Man In The Mirror...
My mother always told me that if you take away someone's dreams, you have left them nothing to live for...words of wisdom that provided the necessary nurturing while growing up. However, what was omitted from this proverb ( or my mother was a real hard ass teacher..."tough love, my son...") was what one should live WITH while pursuing what they live for.
See the dilemma??
Things are challenging and discouraging enough as it is and that's just getting groceries at Superstore, never mind going off on the personal journey for self-satisfaction...oh and while you're preparing for your journey, I suggest you hit the bulk section at Superstore. They have 8 varieties of trail mix, so you can change it up while journeying...candied mangoes AND papaya...mmmmmm. Yet another healthy way to stave off boredom.
Another thing I strongly suggest is adding humility to your daily diet. Granola for the hole, humbleness for the soul. Nothing sharpens your focus and puts realism into your perception of your environment quite like being humbled. Things are NOT all rosy when you're standing in a tulip garden...
A great influence and role model of mine is fond of saying "create your reality" to me, however, I've been finding it difficult to convince my neighbours that Velcro walls are practical and Michael Jackson was framed...just release the new album Mikey and we'll both prove them all wrong as I moonwalk whilst centering your poster in my living room with a RRRRRRIP and regrip.
Having been humbled quite a bit lately, I suppose the risk of becoming insecure and/or depressed exists but it actually hasn't dawned on me to get down in the dumps. So what's the secret, you may ask? Go on...it's okay. You can ask. Sighhh...I'll just continue as if you did.
Inspirational and motivational tools help, sure, ("she says I am the one...but the kid is not my son...SHA-MAUN...EEE-HEE...OOH!...") but more importantly, I've felt comforted with having things put in place for me. Instead of feeling worthless, I am actually able to know just how worthwhile my thoughts and feeling are thus knowing my own worth.
Pretty nifty huh? A sort of "take that frown and turn it upside down" approach granted, but by refraining from quoting a cute saying, it doesn't make people want to toss their cookies or punch me in my mouth with a shovel. It's like a friend of mine always says whenever he finds himself in a situation (getting fired) that requires a new approach (and getting dumped)..."When they're running you out of town, run to the front of the crowd and act like it's a parade."
Ahhhh...being humble. It makes one more settled and keeps the stomachs of those around you
that way as well. And there was peace in the valley once again...
See the dilemma??
Things are challenging and discouraging enough as it is and that's just getting groceries at Superstore, never mind going off on the personal journey for self-satisfaction...oh and while you're preparing for your journey, I suggest you hit the bulk section at Superstore. They have 8 varieties of trail mix, so you can change it up while journeying...candied mangoes AND papaya...mmmmmm. Yet another healthy way to stave off boredom.
Another thing I strongly suggest is adding humility to your daily diet. Granola for the hole, humbleness for the soul. Nothing sharpens your focus and puts realism into your perception of your environment quite like being humbled. Things are NOT all rosy when you're standing in a tulip garden...
A great influence and role model of mine is fond of saying "create your reality" to me, however, I've been finding it difficult to convince my neighbours that Velcro walls are practical and Michael Jackson was framed...just release the new album Mikey and we'll both prove them all wrong as I moonwalk whilst centering your poster in my living room with a RRRRRRIP and regrip.
Having been humbled quite a bit lately, I suppose the risk of becoming insecure and/or depressed exists but it actually hasn't dawned on me to get down in the dumps. So what's the secret, you may ask? Go on...it's okay. You can ask. Sighhh...I'll just continue as if you did.
Inspirational and motivational tools help, sure, ("she says I am the one...but the kid is not my son...SHA-MAUN...EEE-HEE...OOH!...") but more importantly, I've felt comforted with having things put in place for me. Instead of feeling worthless, I am actually able to know just how worthwhile my thoughts and feeling are thus knowing my own worth.
Pretty nifty huh? A sort of "take that frown and turn it upside down" approach granted, but by refraining from quoting a cute saying, it doesn't make people want to toss their cookies or punch me in my mouth with a shovel. It's like a friend of mine always says whenever he finds himself in a situation (getting fired) that requires a new approach (and getting dumped)..."When they're running you out of town, run to the front of the crowd and act like it's a parade."
Ahhhh...being humble. It makes one more settled and keeps the stomachs of those around you
that way as well. And there was peace in the valley once again...
The wages suck but the benefits with a labor of love are out of control...
As I sail off into the evening aboard a boat that offers very little in comfort or sophistication, I once again recite the morning muttered words that have become a mantra to me...
"YOU can do this".
A self-imposed and self-administered pep talk with which I relocate that place that once again attempts to scale up from the depths of my stomach and summit somewhere in my mind, a peak from which it can look down upon my optimism. This part of the world to which I am now living in offers space and natural beauty and beautiful condos and opportunity galore.
My bank account offers $000.81. Opportunity shall have to wait another day, it would seem.
"YOU were born to do this..."
I take pride and comfort in knowing that I have rid myself of the vices I once imbibed in, especially in a time such as this, and that it is indeed good fortune for me to no longer feel the need to practice them. However, I am not without fault, for there is still one vice I maintain with a junkie's fervor and depending on the circumstance, it can be the most dangerous of them all to dabble with.
And that vice is faith. Faith in one's own dream. I am unable to afford such a habit...having a dream to chase after is quite a costly affair, after all. Being unable to afford relationships, be they familial, platonic or romantic. Having a few pints with the lads at the pub or making love to a woman for an entire lazy weekend afternoon, having a cigarette with a coffee and a newspaper...all unattainable, all unappealing and all distracting.
"YOU'RE going to do this..."
It's back. THAT place. It appears that I am revisiting the tremulous place again where the fears and worries lurk about, thrashing about in a fevered and hungry frenzy, waiting to pounce and devour any and or all hope I hold on to as solace. Determination and resolve take their daily beating at this time of night, as the doubts and what-ifs butt into the queue just ahead of the pleasant thoughts and hopeful dreams, so they can be first to traipse into my subconscious.
"YOU can do this..."
Sacrifice is a mere pittance. It isn't what you give up that's costly, it's what you find yourself all of a sudden being able to place a value on that taxes you the most. Appraising the company of a friend, devaluing intimacy with a lover, determining the worth of a person...equations that can be figured out on the fly without the aid of a portfolio manager or investment advisor.
I am subsisting on borrowed time, time which isn't so much dwindling away as it is being taken back by those that proffered their arms, their homes, their larders and in some cases, their wallets, in gestures of goodwill and generosity. However, dreams rarely meet deadlines, follow itineraries or planned agendas and they most certainly do not obey the protocol of benevolence.
"you've GOT to do this..."
Every night I submit my confidence to a self-induced and rather thorough thrashing and every morning I stretch painfully and stiffly to rise up once again to receive criticism and praise, support and disdain, reassurance and scoffs. And then I leave the bedroom while muttering once again to myself and myself alone.
But first coffee and the daily horoscope...
It's a bitter brew that no amount of sugar will tame and the stars guidance for the day states "You may be cautious by nature but the planets are urging you to take the kind of risks that make things happen. Have faith in your own abilities and act as if there is a higher power guiding your actions. Never doubt that you are on the right path."
"YOU'VE had worse", I think as I raise the cup and wince down another sip, proving for yet another day, that although there may be an awful taste left behind, I can still stomach whatever may and will be coming my way.
"you HAVE to do this..."
When asked why he was running across Canada, Terry Fox replied "I'm not a dreamer but I believe in miracles. I have to."
From time to time, don't we all?
"YOU can do this".
A self-imposed and self-administered pep talk with which I relocate that place that once again attempts to scale up from the depths of my stomach and summit somewhere in my mind, a peak from which it can look down upon my optimism. This part of the world to which I am now living in offers space and natural beauty and beautiful condos and opportunity galore.
My bank account offers $000.81. Opportunity shall have to wait another day, it would seem.
"YOU were born to do this..."
I take pride and comfort in knowing that I have rid myself of the vices I once imbibed in, especially in a time such as this, and that it is indeed good fortune for me to no longer feel the need to practice them. However, I am not without fault, for there is still one vice I maintain with a junkie's fervor and depending on the circumstance, it can be the most dangerous of them all to dabble with.
And that vice is faith. Faith in one's own dream. I am unable to afford such a habit...having a dream to chase after is quite a costly affair, after all. Being unable to afford relationships, be they familial, platonic or romantic. Having a few pints with the lads at the pub or making love to a woman for an entire lazy weekend afternoon, having a cigarette with a coffee and a newspaper...all unattainable, all unappealing and all distracting.
"YOU'RE going to do this..."
It's back. THAT place. It appears that I am revisiting the tremulous place again where the fears and worries lurk about, thrashing about in a fevered and hungry frenzy, waiting to pounce and devour any and or all hope I hold on to as solace. Determination and resolve take their daily beating at this time of night, as the doubts and what-ifs butt into the queue just ahead of the pleasant thoughts and hopeful dreams, so they can be first to traipse into my subconscious.
"YOU can do this..."
Sacrifice is a mere pittance. It isn't what you give up that's costly, it's what you find yourself all of a sudden being able to place a value on that taxes you the most. Appraising the company of a friend, devaluing intimacy with a lover, determining the worth of a person...equations that can be figured out on the fly without the aid of a portfolio manager or investment advisor.
I am subsisting on borrowed time, time which isn't so much dwindling away as it is being taken back by those that proffered their arms, their homes, their larders and in some cases, their wallets, in gestures of goodwill and generosity. However, dreams rarely meet deadlines, follow itineraries or planned agendas and they most certainly do not obey the protocol of benevolence.
"you've GOT to do this..."
Every night I submit my confidence to a self-induced and rather thorough thrashing and every morning I stretch painfully and stiffly to rise up once again to receive criticism and praise, support and disdain, reassurance and scoffs. And then I leave the bedroom while muttering once again to myself and myself alone.
But first coffee and the daily horoscope...
It's a bitter brew that no amount of sugar will tame and the stars guidance for the day states "You may be cautious by nature but the planets are urging you to take the kind of risks that make things happen. Have faith in your own abilities and act as if there is a higher power guiding your actions. Never doubt that you are on the right path."
"YOU'VE had worse", I think as I raise the cup and wince down another sip, proving for yet another day, that although there may be an awful taste left behind, I can still stomach whatever may and will be coming my way.
"you HAVE to do this..."
When asked why he was running across Canada, Terry Fox replied "I'm not a dreamer but I believe in miracles. I have to."
From time to time, don't we all?
The Secret should have been a pop-up book...
The Law of Attraction...we've all heard it, read it, quoted it and bought it...and been victim to it as well as from it.
Social Psychology says that interpersonal attraction is a person's qualities appealing to another person's desires and to determine such attraction, personality and situation must be taken into account.
So if you're charming and in a crowded room...watch your ass.
Science aside, the metaphysicists or New Thinkers (one has a degree as opposed to a #1 bestseller...) feel that a person's conscious and unconscious thoughts, beliefs and emotions can cause change in the physical world that attracts positive or negative experiences that jive with said thoughts, beliefs and emotions, with or without the person taking action to cause such experiences.
So by doing nothing, you potentially could be doing the best/worst thing possible.
Hmmm...nice odds.
And to think I was sure we talking monkeys were on the cusp of a breakthrough.
Having no doctorate in Social Psychology nor 20 years experience of chewing cactus roots in the desert...well, a couple of summers but it was a beach and it wasn't cactus although after a period of time, I thought hard enough to TURN IT INTO cactus root on a few occasions...provides me with very little to present to the intellecuals and scholars in the form of credentials.
However...
I have been the refrigerator as well as being the magnet, I have had the fabric of my universe torn asunder, I have climbed inside a black hole and I've had my porridge too hot, too cold and just right.
Hhmph. What I've yet to figure out is the protocol to follow. The RULES.
A simple thing like attraction cannot be so simple, as to throw caution to the wind and say "Hey! Guess What? I'm not gonna do nuthin' and ya know what? It's all gonna happen anyway! HAHA SUCKERS!"
At the same time, something so complex as attraction cannot be THAT complex now, can it? Do I need my emotional calculator, my mental abacus and my spiritual tape measure in order to draw up a hunch? A what if? A maybe?
And then there is possibility. What is the possibility of your physical world, which according to one way of thought you can change; the same world in which everyone you know and have around you inhabits as well, bringing up the question of "just whose physical world is it, really?", just might have fallen under the wishes of someone else?
Have we discovered the land of stalkers? The infatuated? The uninterested? The future spouse?
Just where are we Toto?
Makes dressing up and going out on the town to meet people seem really freaky all of a sudden. Or a complete and utter waste of time. Rather a pity, wouldn't you say? Hopes and wishes stymied by others, whose hopes and wishes you are prey to without a clue.
As well as the unconscious guilt you will never deal with, stemming from wrecking someone's night you don't even know.
People like people, people want to be with people. People don't like people and people don't want to be with people. Absolutely exhilarating or certainly nothing reassuring, depending on what side of the cake your icing rests.
And as far as this magnet is concerned, I may know where North is but that doesn't mean
I know where I am going without a map to consult.
Social Psychology says that interpersonal attraction is a person's qualities appealing to another person's desires and to determine such attraction, personality and situation must be taken into account.
So if you're charming and in a crowded room...watch your ass.
Science aside, the metaphysicists or New Thinkers (one has a degree as opposed to a #1 bestseller...) feel that a person's conscious and unconscious thoughts, beliefs and emotions can cause change in the physical world that attracts positive or negative experiences that jive with said thoughts, beliefs and emotions, with or without the person taking action to cause such experiences.
So by doing nothing, you potentially could be doing the best/worst thing possible.
Hmmm...nice odds.
And to think I was sure we talking monkeys were on the cusp of a breakthrough.
Having no doctorate in Social Psychology nor 20 years experience of chewing cactus roots in the desert...well, a couple of summers but it was a beach and it wasn't cactus although after a period of time, I thought hard enough to TURN IT INTO cactus root on a few occasions...provides me with very little to present to the intellecuals and scholars in the form of credentials.
However...
I have been the refrigerator as well as being the magnet, I have had the fabric of my universe torn asunder, I have climbed inside a black hole and I've had my porridge too hot, too cold and just right.
Hhmph. What I've yet to figure out is the protocol to follow. The RULES.
A simple thing like attraction cannot be so simple, as to throw caution to the wind and say "Hey! Guess What? I'm not gonna do nuthin' and ya know what? It's all gonna happen anyway! HAHA SUCKERS!"
At the same time, something so complex as attraction cannot be THAT complex now, can it? Do I need my emotional calculator, my mental abacus and my spiritual tape measure in order to draw up a hunch? A what if? A maybe?
And then there is possibility. What is the possibility of your physical world, which according to one way of thought you can change; the same world in which everyone you know and have around you inhabits as well, bringing up the question of "just whose physical world is it, really?", just might have fallen under the wishes of someone else?
Have we discovered the land of stalkers? The infatuated? The uninterested? The future spouse?
Just where are we Toto?
Makes dressing up and going out on the town to meet people seem really freaky all of a sudden. Or a complete and utter waste of time. Rather a pity, wouldn't you say? Hopes and wishes stymied by others, whose hopes and wishes you are prey to without a clue.
As well as the unconscious guilt you will never deal with, stemming from wrecking someone's night you don't even know.
People like people, people want to be with people. People don't like people and people don't want to be with people. Absolutely exhilarating or certainly nothing reassuring, depending on what side of the cake your icing rests.
And as far as this magnet is concerned, I may know where North is but that doesn't mean
I know where I am going without a map to consult.
Go on and dip your toe in, it's not THAT cold...
The interesting thing about living on an island is that no matter which direction you choose to travel, you'll eventually reach the point where you can go no further. Unless a miracle occurs and then you find yourself walking on top rather than sinking below. Last time I checked, miracles were few and far in between unless I missed Oprah being cancelled...
Islands...riiiight.
So, the trick to living on an island is making sure you picked the right one, for if you have not, it doesn't matter where you go, you're not going to get very far, regardless of goals or determination. And if you do decide to brave the waters, then you have an awfully daunting task ahead...you can only swim for so long, then you're treading water. Spend too long getting nowhere and you'll find yourself sinking soon enough.
Thoreau wrote " Fools stand on their island opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land, there is no other life but this."
Keep in mind that Thoreau once lived on an island and his dying last words were "Now comes good sailing..."
He also wrote "If one advances confidently in the direction of one's dreams, and endeavors to live the life which one has imagined, one will meet with a success unexpected in common hours."
phew...
Landlocked or not, if you're not braving the currents, one always runs the risk of being pulled under by the undertow of apathy, indecision or worse;
standing still...treading water...
You need not be an Olympic caliber swimmer to move forward nor do you need to take swimming lessons, after all, we're all born knowing how to swim, hell, we spent 9 months submerged.
Better to dogpaddle slowly than to stand on shore looking out.
If only they would make water wings that go with my shoes...
now THAT, is true confidence, my little fishies.
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