"Problem"

I have a problem. 

I love stories.

No, seriously. I really love stories.

Mainly stories about people's lives.

About what they've done. 

Or heard. 

Or said. 

Or wish they hadn't.

Or about what they dream of doing one day.

Just ask the people I work with! It's quite common for me out of the blue to say, "Tell me a
story." To which I usually get a very blank stare and a tentative, "What… kind… of story??"
(This is when it gets exciting- they haven't walked away yet!)
And I over enthusiastically reply, "Anything! Just a story!" 

That approach works when you're with people.
But it becomes harder when you are sitting by yourself at a table in a dark kitchen.
And to make matters worse the clock on the wall just keeps saying, "tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk"
over and over to mock how much time you are wasting wishing for a story.

So I've found a semi-solution. 

Right after blocking out the priggish clock. 

I read blogs. (Completely. Like all the entries.)

Totally random blogs from people I have never met and never will meet.

I argue with them.

And laugh with them.

And get choked up with them.

And then I remember my problem.

I have a test tomorrow.

Field of Dreams

Life is just a field of dreams 

that I'm running past.

Chasing purpose day by day-

nothing seems to last.

Will I be a vapor?

Or even a memory?

Does it even matter?

Is this all futility?

And I said to myself

A, a, a.

And I said

Oh, oh, oh.

And I said to myself

A, a, a.

Just nonsense

Oh, oh, oh.

Laying in this field of dreams,

people racing past.

Missing every moment just

focussed on the next.

Always seeking more and more.

They'll never be content.

Bitter from years of keeping score

and then they end up dead.

And I said to myself

A, a, a.

And I said

Oh, oh, oh.

And I said to myself

A, a, a.

Just nonsense

Oh, oh, oh.

Choosing from my field of dreams

this one seemed the best.

Let it be all consuming-

fill my emptiness.

And though I give it everything

it soon loses all appeal.

Just when I thought I'd found it all,

now the search begins anew.

And I said to myself

A, a, a.

And I said

Oh, oh, oh.

And I said to myself

A, a, a.

Just nonsense

Oh, oh, oh.

Just a field of hollow dreams.

Still my chasm looms within.

Work and money don't satisfy-

futile chasing of the wind.

Life can soon be meaningless

each day becomes a test

The only way to make it count

is in another's life invest.

And He said to me,

"This is my Way.

and in it

you must follow.

You have joined a mission of

love today:

so the world

My Son may know."

A life beyond a field of dreams.