Winter is anew
Sunshine blotted out
Ready for a cold nap
The New Horizon
Winter is anew
Sunshine blotted out
Ready for a cold nap
The New Horizon
What’s one piece of great advice you’ve read recently? Or what’s the best bit of wisdom you’ve ever received?
“Always follow your dreams” – a message I saw on a billboard the other day while going down the notorious 1-94 in Michigan. Dreams are there to act upon. If you don’t wake up and start doing something about them, they will never come true. The dreamer is a hopeless soul; the doer is the one with most success in life. Dreamers believe but never achieve; Doers believe and go right ahead getting done what needs to be done. They don’t worry about the results – they learn to look at the bigger picture and see what they can do better.
If you ask some of the greatest chefs in the world what they did to get to their level of mastery in the culinary world, they would say they had to start right at the bottom and work their way to the top. They would say they didn’t have a shortage of days where they just failed miserable and were critiqued badly, and where they kept hearing about the famous chefs above them opening 5-star restaurants and wondering if they were silly for thinking they could possibly do the same thing. But they kept fighting and kept their head above water, continuing to learn and grow and eventually get to their current spot in life
I want to be a doer but the dreamer side of me is still quite fascinated by the mythical thing known as success. A couple of times I’ve tried to act out these dreams of mine only to realize the tough reality: achieving them takes so much effort and a lot of luck. Much of achieving your dreams requires actually having other people around you to help, to collaborate and pitch in their own creative ideas. But when your people skills are not very good, going it alone always feels like the best choice, even if it would be extremely hard to achieve what you want to do.
My piece of advice, based on my previous experiences, is to not let the negativity get to you. Shut out the voices that say you’re not good enough or not talented enough for your dream profession, whatever it is. Most of all, block out the haters that try to destroy your confidence and keep you from continuing on your path. Or leverage all of the negative talk and use it to make yourself the best ever. The grass is always greener on the other side – look to the alternatives to see what could be better.
Aerosmith tells us to “Dream on…dream until your dreams come true” but the song should really be “Wake up…wake up and make your make your dreams come true”. Your dreams are hopeless without a plan set in motion. Like building a skyscraper, it always starts with a solid foundation.
If you’re like most of us, you need to earn money by working for a living. Describe your ultimate job. If you’re in your dream job, tell us all about it — what is it that you love? What fulfills you? If you’re not in your dream job, describe for us what your ultimate job would be.
My ultimate job would be making videos on YouTube and earning money off of them, enough to make a good living. I have been making videos for sometime now (since 2009 when I was in my senior year) but have never made any significant amount of cash, about a dollar most likely, and have never gotten into any sort of rhythm, It has always been a passion of mine but I never really harnessed it. The thrill of putting a video together in my editing software (currently Corel VideoStudio X8) is intoxicating. I get into a creative zone and end up blocking everything and everyone else out. There are always new ideas for me to explore, even if previous ones did nothing with my viewers. My skills keep on improving each time. Before I started this blog, I was really into making videos but now that this is a priority, I can’t spend too much time on them.
YouTube just turned 11 years old yesterday and the site just keep on growing exponentially. There’s no telling where it will be in the next four years, when the 15th anniversary is held, but I boldly predict that it will be on the level of television eventually. I don’t always watch videos on YouTube but when I do…I end up spending an entire night going on an epic video journey (he is the Most Interesting Man In the World).
I’m not saying this will likely be all I do for a living because I’d definitely need another job to make enough money. I currently give plasma two times a week now, a tedious and annoying process, and being able to find something to replace it would be great.
Writing is definitely a passion of mine as well and I would love to get a full time job on some website writing articles, whatever topic they may be about. Writing (and reading) has a way of making me feel rather comfortable and content. It is a way to unwind from an eventful day or when I am stressed out. If I could somehow earn money from blogging (an even more difficult task than YouTube I suspect), I would really harness its full potential.
That quote I provided by Steve Jobs sums up my passion fairly well. I don’t want to spend my whole life trying to figure out what I want to be doing, wasting my time on something that is full of fruitless efforts. If Option A doesn’t pan out, then it be best to move to Option B, and perhaps C.
“Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”
― Oscar Wilde,
Shucks, I can’t remember what it was I thought about before waking up this on this plain Jane morning. I know I was dreaming about something, but I can’t remember what exactly the dream was about; it was very vivid and deep, I must say, and I didn’t want to wake up just yet because of the story getting really dark and gritty but it started to fade as my morning mind took over, along with my uncle reminding me it was a plasma day. I vaguely remember the dream having something to do with the Pokerap that has been stuck in my head all day, after I featured it in my Throwback Thursday post yesterday, or all the entertaining YouTube videos I ended up watching after the original video was over, all within my blog. It started with Vsauce, a really entertaining channel of science, facts, and humor, and then trailed off into “the guy of a kajillion voices” and some 107 random facts about popular cartoons.
Of course, I thought of my blog, like on most days, contemplating what the Daily Prompt assignment is going to be about, wondering if I’ll finally publish a post around the same time that the “core” of super bloggers do (not today either). I’m talking about the bloggers I frequently see publishing posts in the morning to early afternoon; one of those I’m following is nearly always first because of his typical short witty responses. I’m always late to the party, choosing my own time. It’s this resentment, as well as my tiredness, to following along with this daily “sheep fest” that has me riding off the rails and wanting to do my own thing, for better or worse.
Explaining the title, one of the more humorous and strange things to happen today was my dad wearing a black masquerade “Batman” mask while driving down the highway on the way to the second of our weekly plasma donations, to a couple of concerned stares. He wore the mask into the plasma center as well, trying to seek attention but which wasn’t happening, to his disappointment and sulking later on. The screening booth attendant told him to take it off and he complained. Seriously, what were you thinking? He was the only one wearing a mask, looking rather silly. It’s not even Halloween yet – don’t embarrass yourself.
Speaking of Halloween and masks, my costume this year will be a hasty redo of a previous year’s edition. I’ll likely don my Darth Vader mask again along with a black t-shirt, pants, and shoes – minus the plastic lightsaber, that would be too much – and head off to the “haunted” Halloween party just around the corner in the community clubhouse. I’m hoping I’m not the only 20-something there amidst a bunch of children, which I very much doubt, but will still enjoy myself with donuts, cider, and the many cliches of Halloween strung and laid all around.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Comedy of Errors (and bonus assignment!).”
Do you keep a notebook next to your bed? Good. Today, jot down the first thought you have upon waking, whether or not it’s coherent.
I used to keep a notebook next to my bed, when I was jotting down my dreams, but I got tired of that and lost interest. So, sorry to disappoint you, WordPress monkeys. Maybe next time you’ll have luck making a “good” assumption about me.
Recently, I’ve been thinking about writing a post about things I would like to accomplish in life before it expires someday. It has come to my attention that there is so much I have never done yet, so much of this world to explore for me. I have created a rough, pending bucket list of the different sights, sounds, and activities I wish to witness. Some are within my grasp, while some might require some blood, sweat, and tears (and money) to complete. Hopefully I’m not about to kick the actual bucket like Morgan Freeman and Jack Nicholson when these come into play.
My dream list, in no particular order:
Most of these were thought off the top of my head, while some were inspired by ones featured on bucketlist.org. I may be crazy to think all, if any, of these will be possible, but it’s better to dream big than to not dream at all. I believe the thing to creating a bucket list is to fantasize enough but keep realism in check, going with ideas in your head that you know are the most sensible. Probably the most important one on here is winning the lottery, followed closely by Times Square, visiting all 50 states, and skydiving.
Feel free to comment if you have something worth discussing on your personal bucket list.
I don’t have a lot of nightmares. Lots of unusual, incomprehensible dreams but not nightmares where I could actually feel a sense of dread. There’s just not enough nightmare fuel for anything creepy to popup or it might be that I’m quite immune to these things. Not even Five Nights At Freddy’s could turn my slumber hours into an REM horror.
I think the last real nightmare I had consisted of my dad lying on a raft sinking into a dark swamp and being quickly covered in a bunch of rats (weird, I know). The worst part is when I simply walked ahead onto solid land just before a spooky forest of trees, looked back at my dad being swallowed by the swamp, and muttered, “He wasn’t worth it anyway.” He was lying face up on the makeshift raft in a way akin to one lying in their deathbed. I could sense a sort of sadness and despair, could slightly hear an eerie orchestra playing as a deep regrettable sorrow washed over me. I would miss him, but at the same time was glad to see him go.
I think this nightmare may stem from the fact that I haven’t always seen eye to eye with my father. He’s always tried to control my life, program me into doing everything his way but I’ve always had a free-spirited, independent mind to not be swayed the way his father did to him. I guess because there was a long stretch in my life where I only saw him maybe two times a week that I sort of drifted apart, became my own person instead of a chip off the old block, like they always say. I see him a lot more today than the times just after the divorce and he tends to want to help me with life, but there’s still this gap between us, this valley of differences; he’s living as he did maybe twenty years ago with the same haircut, clothes, and dry sense of humor while I’ve been a little more varied in my looks and tastes in just about everything.
I remember a version of this prompt being used a few months ago, my response to it being an assortment of dreams I had in the past and blended into a twisting story of fear and the supernatural.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Nightmares.”
Describe the last nightmare you remember having. What do you think it meant?
I tend to dream
About many things in general,
From past schoolmates to teachers,
To the first time I played Nintendo
They are usually short lapses and happen in a flash,
Like the one time I dreamed of having Jimmy Kimmel teach class
Sometimes it’s nightmares and other crazy stuff,
As when my father was on a raft and rats were eating him up
I’ve been sent to scary castles and tested the waters,
Even got a job at Tuxler’s and saw my five future daughters
There was the gothic girl in the locker,
And a bloody sliced throat,
Me riding my bike,
And some reptile on a boat
I sat down with Kimye at a table one day,
And a guy was wearing a watch and someone said, “Are you gay?”
Ran through the store, hip-hopped through cement,
Had a gun pointed at me and used a toy to defend
I don’t know why I dream
These deliriously daffy dreams,
But it seems as if they come about
In response to not just one thing
And as the TV went missing,
And creepy Karl Childers came abrupt (mmm…taters),
I realized dreams are
Quite messed up
Stirring in my sleep. A chainsaw maniac chasing me through the woods, the cliché scene. I trip over a tree root – “CRUNCH!” – landing hard on my palms, tasting the soft earth. The sound of deadly weapon getting closer, lunatic footsteps crunching the twigs. Heart racing a mile a minute, struggling to free myself from the root, but shoestring seems to be snagged. The chainman is suddenly there, silhouetted against the faint light of the hazy moon. Frantically kicking at this reverse deus ex machina, tears rolling down my face. I look up; he has a mask on, like Jason, starts to lower the frightening buzzing weapon – “Please, NO!” My legs seem to give out. I stare at the madman and for just a second seem to see a glint in his eyes behind the mask, before it is extinguished like a smoldering fire. Everything in my head goes silent…and then…just then I’m on a makeshift raft with my dad in a dark swamp with trees on both sides. The sky above is starry, full of cosmic display. I stand up in this marsh and peer at the eerie forest before me and then look back at my dad. He seems to be sinking into the swamp, and what looks like rats are crawling over him, burying him alive, completely unaware, just sleeping away. My head pounds with anxiety. I stare at the horrific scene for a moment before the words that inadvertently come from my mouth are “He wasn’t worth it anyway,” and continue toward the forest, leaving my father to sink beneath the mucky depths of this mysterious wetland.
The nightmare shifts to me running through a labyrinth of houses, still at night, the sound of police sirens chasing after me, hunting me down. Heart pounding, I race through numerous alleyways and gated squares of closely packed homes, zigzagging this way and that. I keep running until the sound of the sirens are no more, not wanting to be found or face my downfall, and then the scene disappears and I am in a bright room lit by a hanging chandelier. The walls are wood paneled, the floor vanilla colored. There is nothing in this room except three wooden doors on the far wall facing me. And then a man at least 6″5 dressed in a casual dinner suit steps through the closed center door, steps straight through it like a ghost. He reminds me of someone I’ve seen before, but his face is blurry. This broad lad walks forward and stops just before me, seeming to grow a foot taller as I stare up at him.
“You know you have to pick a door,” he says in a loud booming voice filling the entire room. He stands to my right so I can see the three doors before me.
“Which one will it be, door 1, door 2, or door 3?”, the voice of Wayne Brady appears from somewhere.
The doors seem to rush towards me or I towards them and suddenly the room changes completely, gets smaller. I am now facing the three doors in what looks like a small prison cell. There is a large pool of blood in front of me and is seeping through the small floor crack of door 2. I definitely wouldn’t choose that door, would I? The other doors seem perfectly fine: one is a bolted metal variety, the kind seen in strong ship holds, and the other has wood of mahogany and cherry, expensive looking. But I am rooted on that center door, the blood reaching my bare feet, chilling my toes. I want to open that door, see what happened, the curiosity is tempting. Door 1 and Door 3 just don’t speak anything to me. But Door 3 says it all, even if there’s most likely not a good message on the other side. I touch the door and it simply swings inward, a flash of bright light and then…
I’m in a maze-like video game or movie, going through different rooms, and end up in a large bathroom/locker room of a gym perhaps. A little bit of creative thinking to solve the challenge, riddle here. Not so obvious. I start off entering the place through a door in a dark corner. Tiled floors. The sections of the locker room quiet and eerie. Up ahead is a lit area near a wall. I walk towards it and see a foggy mirror, cracked. Cobwebs hanging from the brick wall. Dust particles floating in the shining light. I turn to the left and see a lit passageway. Objects, such as a vanity set, are against both walls. In the distance is an opening to a dark chamber with the silhouette of a large menacing structure with curved sides and a sloping roof standing. Maybe there are steps on the sides. Probably enemies will be waiting for me there. They can likely sense my presence. I’d better stay away from that place. Going around the shadowy locker room looking for clues. Finally go into a section further away from the lit wall. Then a little girl appears, says “I just want to go home” in a creepy voice. She appears to be crawling on the ground and has an eerie horror look about her, one of those Gothic, depressed, lonely orphaned children. Blackest eyes of the night, pale face like pastry flour. The sequence ends and I go through a basement door, stepping into the darkness.
And just as I witness the chainsaw maniac again, his freakish figure appearing in a greenish fog, I suddenly wake up, sweat drops on my forehead, breathes coming in cold hard gasps. It’s 6:00 in the morning. I quickly grab a pen and paper and begin to recall what just happened in this nightmare.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: Just a Dream
You’ve been given a key that can open one building, room, locker, or box to which you don’t normally have access. How do you use it, and why?
My life would be so much easier
if I could drive a car
and sail off into the sunset
and leave this life afar.
But sadly, that is not a reality
and I am stuck here in neutral,
unable to advance ahead
and be one with the people.
The jobs abound, out there are rich and plentiful,
while in my current position, the buffet table is very lentil.
Creativity unleashed, new places to explore.
I could do it all
if that key would open the door.
Random musings on life, society, and politics.
Enter the dreamscape but beware of what you find
Mental wanderings amongst stardust
The World's leading success industry
All posts copyright 2013–2020 by Mark Aldrich
By Tony Single
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