I was sitting in the coffee shop yesterday morning. Yes, the one where I am surrounded by antiques and great people... who are also antiques... including old DM. I don't have a cane of my own... yet... so avoid cussing the other old fuckers out. They could joust Lancelot of a mighty steed given the chance.
A brief respite and a book seem to help when there is stress... especially if that book is steamy porn. While there reading and trying my best to not to levitate the table with a stiffy, I was glancing at the antique signs on the walls. I thought of myself getting a wee bit older. The annual birth reminder is coming up soon and I get to add another number to my odometer.
As usual in my world, it has me a bit freaked out. Have I mentioned I am not particularly fussed about my birthday? No one else's birthday bothers me as I rather enjoy in Hentai games them with a stick but mine just fucks me over every year...
Mostly 'cause I'm being poked with a stick.
As I was leaving the coffee shop, I saw a man across the street clearly beaten up by life. You know who I mean. They are those men and women who have fallen through the cracks of our carefully woven societal matrix. What led them to lose their way? What dreams did they have in school that were cast aside with a metallic thud into the great green refuse bin of their minds? How did they get here from there?
Was it a catastrophic event or a slow, imperceptible slide that caused them to lose their dreams?
With apologies to Martin Luther King Jr., I think we all have a dream. It is that which keeps us going. It's that thing that has been keeping me awake these last nights... not attaining what is my personalized version of idealism.
I think we have to keep an eye on our dreams. Call them goals if you like although I prefer to think that goals are the steps leading to the dream in hentai games. Either way, it's a marker to aim for in the far off, hazy distance like a purplish mountain across a lush green jungle filled valley.
As I've been going through my days recently, I've been asking myself if what I am doing is getting me closer or further from my dream. Have I become turned around in the immediate, lush lure of the jungle on the valley floor? Having a focal point seems to be comforting. Asking myself if what I am doing or saying is drawing me closer to that dream ensures I keep on track.
Some activities that do not move me forward may be necessary for survival and in those instances I complete them as quickly as possible. If they aren't necessary for continued existence and they don't move me toward my dreams and goals, then they need to be cast aside as useless fodder. They aren't worthy of my time.
For the record, hanging out with people just for shits and giggles has tremendous value (inclusive of reading smut at the coffee shop and flashing the cover at free hentai games... which is just a fucking hoot for its own sake). Mental vacations are as necessary for survival as food, water and shelter, particularly in our world of overly abundant stressors. People and socialising are never included in the category of useless fodder.
So as my Natal Sabbath approaches and I consider; a) how my dreams have changed over the years (downgraded slightly from the delusion of being the next Messiah) and, b) how I seem to have gotten misdirected a bit, I can't help thinking I'm another year toward an ever imposing century mark and haven't attained that dream.
Perhaps that's the point. If I attain that perfect dream, I have nothing else to strive for... and will wind up pulling a Brian Wilson refusing to get out of bed for anything more than a pee break, a crap and a box of saltines with peanut butter... and to feel the ocean breeze caress my face.
It's either all of that or Sadie Hawkins Day has me a bit freaked out. (That's today... apparently.)