every time i blink i have a tiny dream

You know that scene in High Fidelity where Rob comes home to find Laura at the kitchen table reading his list of "Top 5 Dream Jobs" where qualifications and time and history and salary were no object? Number five was Architect, which he said he wasn't even really sure if he'd want to be, so asking him if he'd rather own a record store than be an architect, she crosses it out, saying "There you go then. Dream job number five: record store owner" and smiles.

I think we all have such lists; perhaps not pertaining to careers, or top five records to listen to on a Monday morning, and maybe they aren't written out, or are merely abstract thoughts, but somewhere folded up in the corners of our minds don't we list out our aspirations? Maybe not, but I know I do, and I think sometimes I'm guilty of being like Rob Gordon - squeezing in unnegotiated settlements, number fives that don't quite match, fillers, really, that bump reality out of position. What is it that makes the past and the future sometimes seem more appealing than the present? Eh...who knows.
I've never been much of a carpe diem kind of guy, but I'm thinking lately that there is a time and a place for that kind of attitude. Don't get me wrong here... dreams/aspirations are essential, and I will be clutching onto my own with reckless ambition until they either come true or dissolve, but in the meantime, let's cross out our number fives and write in something here and now, what do you say? After all, you have to make room for surprises, because life is going to throw them at you either way.

In other news I'm finally reading 'Raise High The Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour an Introduction' by JD Salinger. I've been putting it off for so long because I don't want it to be finished. Why did he stop writing for publication? It angers me that he's still alive and has probably been writing some crazy masterpiece during the past forty-some-odd years he's been in seclusion, and he's crazy enough to burn it before he dies. At any rate, I feel a little bit like Desmond with his Dicken's novel, except there was no heartfelt letter from Penny hidden inside mine. (Yes, sometimes I talk like Lost characters are real people... what of it?)


PS - Happy Birthday, Janice.