New Year's Eve, Part I

I decided to start the new year with a clean bedroom. It's not something I've seen for a while. I must admit my artist temperament sometimes transfers to my cleaning skills. My mind is constantly moving on to the next thing, so sometimes I don't always take the time to hang up my clothes or put my shoes back in the closet. One night I was going to bed and I thought about how much my bedroom looked like my thought life. So, new year, clean slate.

I started with hanging up all my clothes. Then I started sorting through all the papers I had accumulated over the year. There were little craps of papers with lots and lots of writings ideas. Articles, novels, poetry, all stacked in piles and piles of paper. As I read through them, I felt like I was in a dream graveyard, my dream graveyard. There were some great ideas and compete plot lines buried under my bad housekeeping skills.

I also found my college transcripts and a outline of the classes I needed to get my degree in visual communications. I also had a college catalog. More dreams buried. After about 30 minutes of that, I was thoroughly depressed. So many dreams, so little time. I have a nasty little habit of dreaming big. The problem with big dreams is big risks. I'm a risk taker, but I realized I don't know how to put the dream into practice. I need to get from dream to manifestation.

I notice that when I get to this point, I throw the baby out with the bath water. Meaning, I feel like my whole life is a waste. It's hard to put it into words, but I wonder if anything I do makes a difference. In the back of my mind, I know it's not true. One of my dreams is to change the world, even a little bit. How can I change the world when all my dreams are written on little slips of paper?