Of cakes, and eating

I really want to have my cake and eat it too. And I have no idea what that all means. Just like I have no idea who James May and the hamster really are. I mean, where have they come from? Even Clarkson, why the heck is he the guy on Top Gear? What did he do to get there? Write, race, speak in loud tones?

Anyway, that’s all random rubbish. Truth is, I sat down to write some journal and discovered this cool ‘connect straight to my blog’ thing in Word 2007… so decided I wanted to write something.

Right now, I’m thinking; Write now, I’m thinking!

So what do you want to do in life? What lights your candle and floats your boat? It’s a pretty-cool experience when you discover that thing, or, if you’re really lucky*, those things. What-say you lost your job tomorrow, and on your way home from work and old friend gave you a call and said he’d come into a massive amount of money and he wanted to give you some? Enough for a couple of years of doing whatever you pleased? No need to work, no need to pay the bills either, what would it be?

I know it’s an often-asked question, and a little pie-in-the-sky stuff (and another saying I have no idea about). But, what?

For me it certainly isn’t what I am doing now. Well, actually, it is what I am doing right now. But it’s not what I am doing on Monday morning. And it’s a fairly innocuous question. The scary part, however, is when you think you have an answer. That’s the problem. It’s actually a much easier, safer place to not have a dream, even a calling, sitting there reminding you that your nine-to-five is simply the wrong place to be. And this is where the cake comes in.

I’m in a donut shop and all I want is cake. My suspicion, to add insult to injury (there’s another one) is that I don’t think this cake can be bought. It has to be made. So I’m on the hunt for a recipe. I suspect the ingredients will come along in time. But, first I need recipe. This is assuming, of course, that I’m in charge of the kitchen.

But I know that this donut shop is not the right place, so the taste of donuts, good as it has been for quite some time, is beginning to go a bit stale. I need something fresher. Sweeter.

I just need some cake.

*And there’s no such thing as luck.

Prove

Prove

These times so often begin with questioning

These thoughts have been leading and pleading and testing me

Whispering doubts about the things that I know

Whispering caution about the ways I could go

Opening the door was just the start

Walking through and onto the path

To the place where the dream might be

 

I know it’s real, I know it’s begun

But why do these questions always come?

 

Why is it I feel there is always something to prove

To everyone else

To myself

Or maybe just to you

 

Why is it I feel I need to be reminding

Everyone else

Or myself

Or maybe just you

 

Of who I am

Of what I am

What have I got to prove?

 

(I just want to make sure

I just want to be sure I’m living the real life)

 

This is who I am and it’s what I’ve been told

But I spend so much time talking at the side of the road

Talking about the journey in front of me

Talking about these so called bigger dreams

Opening the gate on this picket fence mentality

Walking out past the day to day reality

To the place where things might be

 

I have to begin, I have to take a step

But why is it I feel like I cant take it yet

 

Why is it I feel there is always something to prove

To everyone else

To myself

Or maybe just to you

 

Why is it I feel I need to be reminding

Everyone else

Or myself

Or maybe just you

 

Of who I am

Of what I am

What have I got to prove?

 

(I just want to make sure I’m more than just living

I just want to be sure I’m living the real life)

 

20 June 2007

Easter Monday 1986

I did a little net-search (like research, but more efficient) today as I wanted to confirm what ‘date’ Easter Monday was back in 1986. And thanks to this website I now have a new anniversary to remember:

31 March 2006 will mark the 20 year, yes, 20 year (!!) anniversary of my call. Otherwise known as the day I ‘became’ a Christian, it was certainly the day that the becoming began.

And it still goes on. Quite a trip it’s turned out to be too.

Ask me about it sometime, go on.