Dreams

Dreams come in all sizes and shapes, and just about everyone has them. I believe if you have dreams and imagination, you have hope. With hope comes possibility. These are some very powerful words: Dreams - Imagination - Hope - Possibility.

When you have them in your life they can bring change. I suppose through it all, I've been a hopeful person. And though my dreams have changed continuously, sometimes daily, I've also had the ability to dream. I've imagination and creativity to spare. What I've had a hard time doing is grasping possibility. Making those dreams, imaginings, and hopes come to reality. The possibility that I can make my dreams come true, can bring forth my imaginings, seems to be just beyond grasp.

Sometimes it's because I'm torn in so many directions -- I often envision myself as one of those avid tennis watchers with my head swinging this way and that unable to alight upon one single goal with enough enthusiasm to make the thought, idea, hope, dream a reality before I get sucked down the next train of thought.

Sometimes, and perhaps most often it's fear. Like most folks, I fear the unknown, the out of my realm. I'm always much more comfortable with knowing the exact steps and procedures of whatever is before me. Some of that comes out of having a chaotic childhood, and some of that is personality, some just basic human nature.

Although I love the wild side of life, I find it overwhelming when it is the primary aspect of my life. I need, and cherish some stability, so creating change, pushing forth on dreams, and hopes, and imaginings, can be off putting. I could list a million hopes, wishes, dreams, and ideas I've had over the years, but I think it is time to start focusing on my current dreams.

Even if they change every day!

What for?

What for?

So, I'm sitting here wondering why I started a blog. What do I have to say? What is the grand purpose behind my impulsive reach into the blog world?

Maybe I do have a point and maybe I'll get the chance to explore the point. Or perhaps, like most impulses, this to will subside into just another thing I've dabbled in.

Mostly what I figure what I'll post here will be thoughts on things going on in my life, or around my life. But possibly, I'll actually get some stories posted. Maybe some crafty things :)

At least that's my current thought. You'll be clued into what happens if you check in periodically. Until then, ponder this -- what for?

There She Was

Heavy, over-packed suitcases in hand, barely ten dollars to her name, no phone numbers to call, no idea really on how to get there, other than that from the train she had to take a ferry and then a bus which required figuring out how to get to the ferry from the train.

Excited, fueled by nerves and the knowledge that she was free -- maybe not truly free -- but for the first time in her life, not responsible for anyone but herself. She plunged forward, working toward her goal with purpose, her main purpose - just to get there. Once there she'd be safe she thought. Safe and free. It never occurred to her she couldn't do it, wouldn't get there. She had no doubts, just a bit of nervousness.

Edgy, like someone who'd had too much caffeine, though she hadn't, she asked the conductor which subway line would take her to the Staten Island Ferry. Boldly pushing forward she lugged the heavy bags upstairs, downstairs, across streets, and finally through the ferry turnstile. A break, she thought, this will be a break from the heavy luggage, a moment to sit down and enjoy the beautiful sight of New York City.

She'd been drawn there ever since she could remember. She couldn't explain why she felt more energized than she ever had before in her 17 years of life, why she felt this tiniest brush with the City was the start of her life, the spark to her beginning. All she knew was, when she breathed deep, it was exactly like coming home and being set on fire all at the same time.

As the ferry landed, she asked yet another helpful person which bus, and where to catch it. Stepping on to the bus she looked longingly out towards the city again. Knowing that though she wouldn't be right in the City she would be close enough to touch it, smell it,feel it.

She got off where the bus driver directed her, and realized she was at the bottom of a very large hill. Dismayed she looked around at the other disembarking passengers and noted a man who was headed her direction. She asked him if he knew of another way to get up the hill, and he offered to give her a lift. Somewhat naively she said yes, feeling comfortable enough not to be afraid, and let him drive her up the hill. He went up the hill telling her all about her new home. She said that she really had no idea what she was doing and she hoped people would still be awake when she finally got there.

She told him how long it had taken her to get there and how arduous the trip had been, and how excited and amazed she was with herself for doing it, getting there. He took her in to the building she indicated, went directly to the RA and signed her in, he stayed and made sure she was okay, and he never once was anything other than an amazingly nice stranger. Although 20 years later, she shudders to think of her innocence, such as it was.

And there she was, finally at college. Free and safe and excited for her life to begin.