paisleypiper's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- a mighty goal While we were on vacation I got a birthday card from my father. In the card were two printed digital pictures of the trio � my father, his wife and her son. These days they are eating beans every other day, living in the desert, waiting for a business deal to come through which will make them all rich. Stepbrother is turning, I believe, 40 this year. He has lived with them almost since the beginning of their marriage � 1993�and has not had a job or a date during this nine-year stint at home. My father is incredibly smart and has a balance of left-brain and right-brain function. He has degrees and is a talented musician. He is also a great developer and builder of houses, which is what he has been doing. But he is driven to keep going after something really big, really incredible, really�. This is what the paternal side of my family is like. They are fully vested in the spirit of being over-achievers. And not just in business, but also culturally. We may not have had our own bathroom until I was 3, but we had paperback copies of the Greek tragedies. We may not have been able to eat every day, but we went to the museum on free day, regularly. It is just the way of my family � a big bunch of stoic, frustrated creative souls trying to live up to the family name. This half of my family I call the DieHards. When I was three, I remember being in our living room and making a mental note of what it looked like. We had a long church pew instead of a couch. Next to the pew was a mission style rocking chair. Across the room was a group of wooden ladder-backed chairs. A large painting that consisted of the word �POW� hung over brick and board bookshelves. On the top level was the stereo � amplifier, turntable, reel-to-reel tape deck. We had just moved to the city and were enjoying our own, aforementioned bathroom. And I made a friend who lived down the street. It was the first time I remember thinking about our living room as compared to my little girl friend�s living room. They had a couch. I thought only grandmas had a couch and stuffed chairs. People did not sit around in circles on their living room floor. There were no beaded curtains hanging in doorways or big brass floor-standing candlesticks. I came to the conclusion that her parents were really old and our church pew was really hard. I am not as willing as my father to live uncomfortably and put everything on the line for a big idea of mine. The first problem is that I get big ideas all the time.... The second problem is that I do not have the confidence to invest in my ideas and continue to invest in them when times get lean, filled with meals that consist only of beans and rice every other day. At the same time, I struggle with a bit of a depression and a bad feeling about myself because I am not out there, investing myself in something that matters to me... really matters to me. I feel like I could be operating on another level, getting more done, maximizing my time and duties so that I have more time to acheive whatever it is I need to acheive. And should I ever know what it is, then I might have some internal peace. To be less conflicted over everything, willing to just be here now, as the saying goes.... A mighty goal? 9:47 p.m. - 2002-07-18 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
||||||