Tuesday, February 07, 2006

The Dream...

Since I apparently can't rely on my pets anymore to wake me up, I set my alarm last night. For 4:30 a.m. Of course, last night I didn't get to bed at a decent hour due to the necessity of helping to set up our new furniture -- well, not exactly the furniture, but the stuff inside.

We got a new entertainment center.

What is it about men that they must have eighteen different components to their "home theater" (I use that term loosely, because everything we own that's electronic up there is at least three years old - most of it's more than a decade old. The DirectTV guy snickered at our TV set.)? If it was only up to me, we'd have: A TV, TiVo, and A VCR/DVD combo. Uh... that's it.

Nope, we have all of the above, plus a stereo system with five components and four speakers. Four. Why?

In any case, it took about two hours to sort out all the cords and get stuff together so that it worked.

Back to the point of my story...

This morning, my alarm went off (softly, because I'm a very light sleeper, but don't want to wake hubby up). I stayed there, eyes closed, grumbling to myself that I didn't wanna get up... wah.

And then "The River" came on the radio.

You know a dream is like a river
Ever changin' as it flows
And a dreamer's just a vessel
That must follow where it goes
Trying to learn from what's behind you
And never knowing what's in store
Makes each day a constant battle
Just to stay between the shores

I love this song, it never ceases to inspire me. Yesterday, I was determined to finish my outline and get going on my edit of Liv, but was continually interrupted. Got. Nothing. Done. It was very discouraging.

And I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry
Like a bird upon the wind
These waters are my sky
I'll never reach my destination
If I never try
So I will sail my vessel
'Til the river runs dry

I was feeling pretty low the other day about writing. Wondered if there was even a point to it. After all, I managed to stop writing for five or six years. And they say that writers can't not write. Well, I "not" wrote for awhile.

But I keep coming back.

Too many times we stand aside
And let the waters slip away
'Til what we put off 'til tomorrow
It has now become today
So don't you sit upon the shoreline
And say you're satisfied
Choose to chance the rapids
And dare to dance that tide

So I guess it's time to hop into my boat and hope it's seaworthy.

I'm going to go dance the tide.

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