I wish...

I was nicer
it didn't depend on how others treated me
I felt good enough for that to be enough
my roof didn't leak
my yard never needed mowing
I had unlimited time to show my kids how much I adore them
I exhibited more grace... and less confusion
There was such thing as time travel
And that I wouldn't screw it up, if there were
there was time to sew everyone who was cold a nice, warm quilt
no one was plagued by fear
everyone had enough to eat
shoes were free
shopping for bras didn't cause aneurisms
Mulder and Scully never "hooked up"
there was no such thing as (you fill this one in)

But if wishes were horses... we'd all be knee deep in crap (thank you, Romano)

I'm sitting here at (checks clock) 2:26am, wishing there was no such thing as writer's block coupled with deadlines. Sometimes, the words just won't come. I'm currently in training to write on demand, although it's more speechwriting than actual "writing" writing. Once a week I have to prepare a speech of sorts, and I write the script beforehand. I like the structure of the script, although I really need to get away from that because it's usually so stale by the time it's delivered. And stale don't move people.

I think the difficulty (I use the term loosely -- not many of us truly have "difficult" lives...) of my task is compounded by the recent speed reading I applied to a nifty little book entitled Leadership and Self-Deception Getting out of the Box. What a great book --but it's pretty profound, and it's temporarily vice-gripped my mind. Can't stop thinking about it. I highly recommend it to anyone. Period. Anything you do in life can be positively influenced by the principles contained in this slim yet impactful book. (Yeah, "impactful" doesn't sound like a word to me either but what do you expect --it's after 2am)

That was the end of this evening's PSA

Here's a modern day tale: Once upon a time, there was a person who wanted more than anything to be a writer. But deadlines caused performance anxiety, which led to the crippling fear that nothing would issue forth from the fingertips, which became a self-fulfilling prophecy for the Writer to Be, and the WtB changed courses... embarking on a mad voyage down the paths of least resistance. WtB realized years later what could have been but fought indecision and fear in enbarking on the long forgotten dream of the past. Caught up in the inertia of self-doubt, the WtB felt powerless to change the patterns of the past.

Moral? Don't be like WtB. Wishes may be exercises in futility...or they can be the bridge to something greater than you've ever imagined. Never stop wishing.

Peace; and good night.