Monday, July 11, 2011

I Wish

It's been easily two or three years since I've written anything from my heart on this blog page. Whether it's unwelcome or overdue doesn't matter to me, 'cause here it comes anyway.

When asked what they'd wish for, a lot of people come up with the impossible. Some say they'd wish for unlimited riches, movie star fame, or ridiculously beautiful appearance. Others would wish they had a magic "undo" button that would let them back up every time they made a mistake, or for superpowers like the ability to fly or become invisible.

My wishes, on the other hand, aren't impossible. Given enough time spent, effort expended, hours studied, etc., any number of my wishes could actually come true. But at age 44, I realize it's likely that not one of them actually will. I'm too scattered, my attention divided between too many things. Too much water under the bridge, too much respect lost, too many mistakes made. Boundaries too tight, opportunities too limited, motivation too scarce, education too expensive, time too short.

So here's a random selection of wishes from my list of possible - yet highly unlikely - wishes:

- I wish I could draw human figures in action like John Buscema could. Just flowing from my brain through a pencil and onto the paper. To make a few lines suddenly just come alive.

- I wish I had a wide vocal range. Being a low tenor with a four-octave range like Bruce Dickinson would let me sing just about anything I could imagine.

- I wish I was one of those instantly likable guys. Outgoing, big smile, the sort of person that's popular simply because he's a nice guy that makes you feel good to be around him.

- I wish I made more money. Not a ton more - just like 20k more a year. Not to change my class, or to get a bigger or better anything. I've never needed stuff or status. I just want to not fear things like needing new tires for the cars soon, and to feel like I'm being paid for the quality and intelligence I bring to my job every day.

- I wish I enjoyed weightlifting and running. I know I feel better as a result of doing these things, but I'd just like to not dread and hate every minute of them.

- I wish I had close friends close by. I hate that even after living here for five years, there is almost literally no one I can call and say, "Hey, let's grill steaks tonight," or "What fun thing are we doing this weekend?"

- I wish I was perceived as a problem solver striving for excellence in everything. I think my intolerance for ineptitude and desire to see people do their best is usually seen as ranting or complaining. Why are the lazy popular? Why are the clueless elevated? Why are the intelligent incredulous? Bah, enough said about that.

- I wish I was a real musician. Not the one I've been pretending to be for the last thirty years, but someone with a thorough knowledge of theory, the ability to improvise, to harmonize, to sit down at a piano and play the music on the sheet in front of me.

- I wish I fit in somewhere. I'm not nerdy enough for the nerd crowd, not artsy enough for the artists' scene, and not musical enough for the musicians. I'm too transparent for the Christian crowd, and have too much religious history for the metalheads. I'm too fat for the popular folks, too temperate for the drinkers, and too old for the people I seem to relate to most. Too quick-witted for the dullards, but too slow for the improv. Too low on the totem pole for managers, too uneducated for the university grads, too ugly for the beautiful, too poor for the upper crust. Too liberal for the right, too conservative for the left, too opinionated for the center.

- And lastly, I wish I didn't stay up past midnight thinking about all the things I wish I could do, wish I could learn, and wish I was.

Tuesday, July 05, 2011

Some Pages Get More Attention Than Others...

You may wonder if I post more than two things a year on this blog anymore. I'm not certain myself. But one thing that DOES get updated five or six times per week is the Pastor Ron Daniel page on Facebook. You can check it out here.



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