I have perfected an annoying art form of attempting to prove the unprovable.
For me, trying to do something – anything – in order to prove a point I have neither been asked nor have any reality-based need to prove is like trying to force an elephant through the exhaust of a mini-cooper. I might actually be able to get it to fit, but I would have to chop up the entire beast into small pieces, stick it in a blender until liquefied and then let it boil into a gaseous state. By that time, there is nothing left of the originally magnificent creature I so desperately wanted to prove I am of kindred benevolence.
I know this because I have metaphorically killed more magnanimous creations than I am admittedly capable of calculating. I will either make half-failed (or half-successful, depending on your optimism vs. pessimism tendencies) efforts to do it myself, actually do it myself with varying levels of success (or failure), or sit paralyzed in fear of not doing it perfectly thereby not doing it. The only way I won’t do it is to let someone else do it for me. I have some switch inside that pulls the choke out at the slightest indication that I may feel left out of whatever wondrous triumph is about to occur. Unfortunately, I pull so hard that I open up too much and inevitably stall out creating a self made vacuum bag full of words never shared, works of almost art, plays produced in my head, and songs never sung outside my car.
Want proof?
Hollis and Jolleen – a children’s book about two best friends and their adventures through a knot-hole in a tree to the world below filled with talking frogs, daisies and a mole. Partially written with a TYPEWRITER.
A Way Home – a play I began writing while living in NYC and had a staged reading of in like 2003. It still needs final edits. (PS – I lived in NYC from early 1995 to early 1997…;o|)
Bhogobaan ekane ache – a written account of my spiritual journey – first written in 2003 with minor updates over the years. Sent to some publishers and a monologue from it got me cast in Ochen Chotto Schpiel (see next point).
One Woman’s Voice – a compilation of about 40 poems of mine up until about 2004. Sent it to a few publishers but figured work got in the way. And my playwright’s revival in Ochen Chotto Schpiel (which did generate quite a bulk of very short plays that now reside only in my memories – both cranial and hard disk.)
Dreaming Tales of This and That and a Splashing Humpback – another compilation of over 30 poems for kids of all ages. 24 are done, the rest almost – but I need to illustrate it, although I don’t really draw very well.
Numerous visual arts – paintings, fabric, mixed media – that I have more supplies for than actual completed pieces.
Very brief foray into the possibility of an artistic tye-dye business.
This blog which I almost started for years and now only update periodically.
And, oh yeah, I have a Bachelor’s Degree in Drama – emphasis Acting.
Whew! That’s a lot of almosts to cram into one old four-drawer metal filing cabinet stuck in my home office! And it doesn’t even include the lists of aspirations I swallow deep down underneath rolls of Tums and diet coke – dancer, singer, cellist, elected official, world news anchor, race car driver, motivational speaker, smoking hot babe with perfect cha-chas, covert spy and mime extraordinaire.
Okay – really sounds like I’m headed towards the typical mid-life crisis, doesn’t it? Yipes.
Katie – Bar the door. No, seriously – bar it, lock it, nail it shut – goodness knows where this line of opening up and spreading my mid-life cheer will send me!
P.P.S. Truly just kidding about the mime part.
P.P.P.S. See my point?
MKat Reclamations 
Cellist? That caused me to turn around and look at the cello that’s hanging on the wall opposite my desk. I bought it many (many) years ago…shortly after hearing Bach’s cello suites for the first time (played by Pablo Casals). Someday, I knew, I’d learn to play them. Not like he, of course, but well enough for me.
From year to year that desire’s been forwarded to the next.
It was only after seeing “All the Mornings of the World” (Tous les matins du monde – 1993) that I thought (at last!) I’d certainly (soon!) tighten the strings and begin to play. Before it was too late.
But I didn’t. And perhaps never will. But then again, maybe, some day. Along with countless other things.
All of which to say:
Aspirations form the hills
that ’round our further view;
without which what would we
see to climb, and further do?
P.S. I wouldn’t be dribbling this stuff on your posts if they weren’t such a pleasure to read.
I enjoy your posts, too – both here and on your pages. “Two birds” and “One of those Days” – Nice. Love the imagery.
“Some dreams…” – Interesting start to something larger? At first I was wondering how you got in my dream because I am always dreaming I am a bit taller, a bit thinner and a bit more attractive…;o)
“Interesting start to something larger? …I was wondering how you got in my dream…”
A start, yes. Unfortunately the ending has so far eluded my ability to “word” it. You, on the other hand–knowing her so well, and equipped with skills far superior to mine–could do it beautifully in an eye blink. Wanna try?