3 men who made a difference to me in 2009

If I live my life differently from this general time onward, the credit should be shared with three men whom I encountered for the first time in 2009, one in person and two via their writings and podcasts.

Barry McGuire is the one I met in person, and technically I "encountered" him for the first time years ago, but it was meeting him that turned my mind and life around. His tale of teetering on the eve of destruction and finding his way to a new place is inspiring; he's the one who pointed me toward the book The Sacrament of the Present Moment; and listening to and speaking with him ignited a creative spark whose fruits I will be sharing with the rest of the world in 2010 and beyond.

Dan Miller is the author of 48 Days to the Work You Love, a terrific guide to discovering the job/work you want to do and how to go about getting it.

Dave Ramsey is the author of Financial Peace and The Total Money Makeover and host of a daily radio program that is condensed into a podcast five days a week. I think I understood his principles years ago, but he made me finally pay attention. Or perhaps I was finally ready to act on the principle that debt is dumb.

I heartily recommend all three men's body of work to anyone and everyone. To the extent that my body of work is more focused and productive in 2010, I owe it to their influence.

Happy New Year, all!

Messages from God

Last summer I wrote:

When you set your mind on a vision that fires up your dreams, it's as if the forces of the universe align to make it happen. Try not to think too hard about why that's true, but understand it is true. Maybe it's simply that people sense your enthusiasm and are drawn to help. Maybe it's that catching the fire of your inner passion generates an energy that makes you do what's necessary. Maybe it's God; yep, that's how I envision it, but if you have issues with the idea of supernatural power, don't dwell on it. The important thing is overcoming the illusion that you might fail.

Last month I wrote:

Refuse To Be Afraid, a book based on the themes of this blog, and The Imaginary Revolution, a novel that embraces the Zero Aggression Principle as its theme, are the creations that will scream "This is what I believe. This is how I try to live my life." As such, I have embued them with too much significance; I have been reluctant to pull them together, for the same primal fear we all share: What if we were to say "This is true and important," and the vast mass of folks out there sniffed at it and said, "No, it's not. You're a lunatic. Worse: You're irrelevant."

Maybe I am. But you know, books that are never published touch no one. So I plow ahead.

Sunday, my pastor preached on the theme "refuse to be afraid." This morning, I find on Sunni's blog a dialogue that contains insights into the themes I'm exploring with The Imaginary Revolution. The conversation spins from a beautiful insight from Bill St. Clair.

The forces of the universe aligning to assist my work and encourage me? Messages from God to help me now that I'm on the right track?

Who cares? I am grateful for the insights and plow ahead.

The first hour

From Dan Miller's 48 Days to the Work You Love:

Be very careful how you start your morning. You are planting the seeds for what the day will hold. If you get up late, grab a cup of coffee and a cigarette, fume at the idiots in traffic in your rush to work, and drop down exhausted at your desk at 8:10, you have set the tone for the day. Everything will feel like pressure, and your best efforts will be greatly diluted.

Miller writes about getting a good night's sleep, spending the first 30 minutes of the day on reading and reflection, then working out while listening to an audio book that involves "mental input and expansion." "I carefully protect that first hour of the day, making sure that all input is positive, creative and inspirational. Many of my most creative ideas have come from this protected hour of the day, often when I am in a full sweat."

You may have a different way to clear the day out in your mind and get started. But get the first hour down, when the mind is newly clear and a blank slate, and the rest of the day will flow more smoothly.

You are where you are

It's not at all unusual for people to have a sense of dissatisfaction about their circumstances. "I really don't have a peace that I'm where God wants me to be." Or: "This is not where I envisioned being at this stage in my life." Or worse: "I don't know what I want to do with my life, but I know it's not this."

I think the question to ask is: What can you do where you are, while you're there?

A small bit that is good news and bad news: I suspect every life ends with something left unfinished. If you're living life to the fullest, you'll always be doing something until you can't anymore. So if you have a nagging feeling or a firm conviction that your life's mission is something else, don't fret too much about it, just start working on getting to that something (or somewhere) else. And if you're not too sure what your purpose is, well, start thinking (and, if you're so inclined, praying) — with a little self-examination, you'll find that mission, or you may discover you're already doing it.

And for better or for worse, you are where you are now. See what's possible under these circumstances because, for the moment, this is what you have to work with.

What I'm saying is not the old cliché "Bloom where you're planted." You have a huge advantage over a plant: You're mobile. You don't stay planted. You're on a journey. Not only are you not required to stay in one place, that's completely opposite of who and what you are.

To a huge extent the journey is the reward. The downside is if you don't know where you're going, any road will get you there. OK, those are both clichés, but they're better clichés and more to the point than "Bloom where you're planted."

And even more to the point, you won't make any progress if you spend too much time moping about being at this particular spot on your journey. Much is made in Christian theology about how Jesus worked with people where they were — he mingled with people his society despised, even (gasp!) tax collectors. If he worked miracles with those folks in their circumstances, he can work miracles with you in yours.

You are where you are. What can you accomplish while you're there? And if you're dissatisfied with where you are, what can you do — now — to get where you'd rather be? There's enough time in every day to do what you're doing and work on the things that will get you elsewhere, even if you can only find time for just one tiny step.

If you're sure you want to be somewhere else, taking those steps will make you feel better. And even if you're not sure, taking steps in one direction will help you clarify if it is, indeed, the direction you want to go. Sometimes exploration reveals you actually are where you were "meant" to be. More likely the uneasiness is a signal to get moving.

But you are where you are. This is what you have to work with. "What next?" is a decent question. A better question: What now?

Suggested reading: 48 Days to the Work You Love, Dan Miller; Do It! Let's Get Off Our Buts, Peter McWilliams.

Resolving a contradiction that isn’t

An old friend perusing these thoughts the other day admitted to some confusion about what appear to be some contradictions in my recent writings about consciousness.

On the one hand, I wrote about keeping your mind focused in the moment, because you certainly can’t control what happened yesterday and tomorrow literally doesn’t exist and never will. At any given moment there’s only now.

Then a few days later I wrote about asking what you would do if you knew you could not fail, and then I added guess what, you can’t fail — move on accordingly.

If we should live in the moment with no thought of a future goal, he asked, what’s the point of a to-do list or dreams or goals or the other stuff I’ve been writing about lately?

Good question; the hiccup is in coupling “live in the moment” with “no thought of a future goal.” (P.S. I think he grokked this, as his e-mail was titled “I’m confused...not really.”) Making a conscious attempt to stay in the moment is not the same as “going willynilly all over the place,” as he colorfully put it elsewhere.

In fact, staying in the moment can be a cure for willynilly syndrome. Often the moment has several demands — a conscious, constant attention to priorities can keep the mind focused. This electronic toy full of bells and whistles, on which I’m typing these thoughts, is a great example.

While I’ve been composing, it’s been playing the great album John B. Sebastian, and my mind has wandered to a variety of places that could have sent me to the search engine. (Whatever happened to the young lady who shared my passion for Sebastian and accompanied me to a couple of his concerts when we both were in high school? What was the story again of how the album was released on both MGM and Reprise records? Where did I put my Woodstock album anyway?) Meanwhile, my e-mail dinged; there’s a new message waiting.

But the current goal is to finish these thoughts. The needs of the moment were for me to stay on this page, typing. Staying in the moment is not incompatible with having a goal. I have started developing specific goals for where I hope to be in six months, a year, five years — but life is still what happens to you, moment by moment, while you’re busy making other plans.

My friend concluded with some great advice: “... if you are consciously trying to live in the moment, it is taking your mind away from its natural course, wandering, picking up, sorting and filing other ethereal information it meets in its travels.”

I agree that a little mind-wandering is necessary to maintain one’s sanity. A sense of direction helps prevent the wandering from being out-of-control willynilly; a sense of the moment helps the goals from being so rigid that we miss a sudden or subtle shift in priorities.

All of this navel-gazing boils down to this, however: I am here in this place now, and I control only my actions and reactions now. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I just heard a sound coming from the puppy’s direction that may need my attention ...

Life is either ...

“Security is mostly a superstition.

"It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it.

"Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure.

"Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.”

Helen Keller

In the beginning ...

When I started this blog, I thought that with a name like "Montag" and a subtitle like "and the clocks were striking thirteen," I should make a minimum commitment of posting every Monday at 1 p.m. It's not 1 p.m. yet - oh, sure it is. It's always the 1300 hour somewhere.

In my introductory note, I mentioned libertarian themes and lists of pop culture stuff, so I'd already set the parameters.

I find a good way to introduce myself to people is to give them lists ... my favorite books, favorite movies, favorite TV shows, favorite musicians.

Of course, if a mind is engaged those "favorites" tend to shift and change. Billions of people live here, and millions have made books, movies, TV shows and music. Funny, though, a person keeps going back to the old and familiar.

Radio once gave music lovers a way to explore new territory. Now I'm finding Internet streamers are where the adventure is. I recently found Folk Alley, and I have their stream going as I type this. Mark O'Connor is playing "October Impressions." Very tasty. Highly recommended.

No, I'm not reflecting on the beginning as a way of saying this is the end. Au contraire. It's a bit of a renewal. Glückicher Montag.

Now I'm better

Thanks to Wally for the shout-out. He's been on folks' mind of late — notice that Uncle Warren gave him a shout-out for recommending the fun B-movie Nick Fury Agent of SHIELD with its immortal exchange:

"Thank God, I thought you were dead!"

"I was — but now I'm better."

These past 2-3 years I have made "refuse to be afraid" my personal coda, my rallying cry, along with its corollaries: Free yourself. Dream. From time to time, however, I neglect to take my own advice. My Sunday night post was my little way of declaring, I thought I was dead, but now I'm better.

As someone with more money and influence than I once said, in our present crisis, government is not the solution to our problem — government is the problem. The struggle in this world does not really boil down to liberal versus conservative, Democrat versus Republican, capitalist versus socialist — it's about the state versus the individual, or if you will, any collective versus the individual.

I would expand the definition beyond simply "the state" to "any collective" because joining any group — or viewing other human beings in terms of groups — tends to suppress the power of the individual. The whole purpose of the state, or the corporation, or any larger organization, eventually becomes to collectivize thought and behavior, which relieves members of the responsibility to think or act for themselves. The whole purpose of lumping people into groups is to relieve one's self of the responsibility to see individuals for themselves.

It's much easier to believe "That's just the way white people act" or "Those damn liberals, they're all like that" or "Women!" — but you miss so much by adopting prejudices (pre-judgments). Even if every person in a particular category has thought and acted a certain way, the next individual who qualifies for that category could be completely different and wildly better (or worse) than you've ever experienced from other members of that group. Draw no preconceived conclusions and you'll catch a lot more of the wide variety that individuals can contribute to your life — even the occasional government employee, fer cryin out loud.

I'm not sure at one what point a partnership, or an alliance of friends, or any small group of people cooperating becomes a collective. I suppose even a couple could qualify if one partner allows herself/himself to follow the other's lead mindlessly. The larger the organization, though, the more likely the individual will become less important and eventually lost. That's why Big Government, Big Business, Big Anything is anti-human.

The key to freedom is accepting my own autonomy as an individual, and respecting the autonomy of other individuals, with all of what that means — whatever that means.

Update: Edited to fix the "I'm not sure at one point" hiccup.

The State as speed bump

Now here is an interesting conversation over at Sunni's blog, as anarcho-libertarians discuss the questions that "given that we live in a world dominated by states, at what point does interacting with them 'cross the line' and become immoral? How is the line determined?"

My light-bulb-flash moment came as "galacticmonk" mused:

my evolution started with attraction to free markets & liberty. from there i became active, getting angry (reacting emotionally) at the constant barrage of noise that conflicted with my ideal (at the time) libertarian paradise.

soon i started to realize that the perpetual stream of things that go against my current understanding would eat away at my core. i had to re-evaluate what was important. and frankly the state ranked so far down the list that it became a non-factor.

as soon as living a meaningful life and finding joy in the day-to-day aspect of it became my reason for being here, the state was like a speed bump--annoying but something i really had no control over (unless i chose a different road of course).

So here's a guy, me, whose entire career has been in media/news, with news defined as observing and explaining the latest stuff that The State is doing. I'm all wrapped up in watching The State, and I hear that "living a meaningful life and finding joy in the day-to-day aspect of it" is probably best accomplished by not getting all wrapped up in watching The State. I know this instinctively, but haven't seen it verbalized quite this neatly for a while.

Should I seek a journalistic beat that doesn't involve itself so much in State News, or seek a completely different path that takes me out of my media/news comfort zone but into something a little more joyful because it does not expose me to The State every day? This is the question that's been driving me nuts for some time, in part because I haven't phrased the question so well before.

As for the answer ... Stay tuned. And remind me that I was talking to myself when I said "Stay tuned."

Treading water

Well.

Ahem.

You know that old cliché, "When God closes a door, he opens a window"? The doors and windows have been acting strangely lately.

As you probably know, there's this day job that keeps the FRNs coming into the house at a steady enough pace to keep the wolves from the door, and there are a variety of projects, some completed, many not, that I have undertaken in an effort to free myself from the day job eventually.

Lately, almost all that the closed windows and open doors have done is pull me deeper into the day job. You know, the one I've described as the wage-slave job. I don't hate it, I enjoy the people I slave away with, but it's not my first choice for spending most of my day. But, to be redundant again and repeat myself, those FRNs keep the wolves from the door.

There is this one window that's open a crack: An enthusiastic friend (no, not that one) has an idea for a book. If I try to creak that window open further, the other two book projects would creep farther behind. And of course, all three projects are hampered by the time commitment required to bring in the FRNs and keep the wolves out.

But that's the current picture: All of the doors and windows have been closed except the ones that involve working on someone else's ideas. On the other hand, a well-rewarded salesman often said, "You can have anything you want if you help enough other people get what they want." So maybe what I want has to wait.

It's the proverbial dilemma. But that's why I've been silent the past few days, and why this might be a silent or infrequently updated place for a while. I am open to other alternatives; my deepest desire is to fill in the blanks between the front and back covers of the projects I posted at the top of this page, but there seem not to be enough hours in a day. Tell me what I'm missing; how do I reorder the hours to get it all done?

Humble apologies for the intense navel-gazing and the downer tone on a site that I'd prefer to be encouraging to you. I wanted to post something new, though, and this was all I got.

OMG I killed the Yak

Back in May I posted a comment over at Yak Attack in which I said to lewlew, in part, "I think 'What do I want to be when I grow up?' has to be a constant question because once you stop growing, you’re dead. And I’m not ready for that phase yet. "

It was the last thing posted there for (ulp!) three months, and when she returned she said, "Hello, I haven't given up the ghost or deserted Yak Attack ... I’ve been exploring B.W.’s idea that if we stop growing we’re dead, spending time with family, reading books I normally wouldn’t pick up, doing yoga and remodeling."

It sounds like she's been having fun discovering life outside of cyberspace — a good lesson to learn! I've been spending those same three months at this keyboard wondering what I want to be when I grow up. Hmmmm ... I think you had the better idea, lewlew! Welcome back.

Where is Danny Federici?

PintofStout's call for a discussion of the soul has resulted in some interesting conversation, both at his site and elsewhere, like here and here. I'm not sure I have much to add, but I've been thinking.

Yesterday I mourned for Danny Federici, the musician, and any death raises the question: Now that his body isn't working anymore, where did "he" go? That is, the energy that inhabited his body, which we can assume was similar to the sentience we experience as we move about in our own bodies.

Having only experienced this plane of existence, as far as we know, most sentient beings seem to occasionally contemplate those two big questions: Where was this consciousness before it inhabited this body, and where will it go when this body is used up? It is hard to believe that this consciousness is simply a miracle of the chemical reactions in the brain of this body and will dissipate forever when the brain stops functioning.

We have devised a number of religions and philosophies to explain the fate of the soul. My faith says we only get one shot at this life, but the bottom line is we don't know how souls and consciousness work beyond this world. Having been born in the closing months of the Korean War, I have always wondered about one of the most vivid dreams I had as a very young child, the earliest dream I can recall — of being shot in the chest in what I vaguely recall as a chaotic situation. A lingering vision of the end of my consciousness' last stop? or simply a vivid dream?

Perhaps the essence of Danny Federici has migrated into a now-microscopic being inside someone's womb; perhaps it's in the next level of existence, heaven if you wish; perhaps the soul expires with the body and it's resting with Danny's body.

These are intriguing thoughts and fun to contemplate, because they involve the most intimate core of our being — but in the end, the answer is unknowable until we get there. I'm not necessarily in a hurry to find out, but as it's something we all must face someday, I'm curious.

Montag Morgen pep talk

A number of my friends and acquaintances are going through big changes of their own making. After much omphaloskepsis, they have finally concluded that the Nike adds are right: The solution to inertia is "Just do it." They're doing what they've been thinking of doing for some time.

One thing they have in common is they're partly scared to death. This is a normal reaction. They're out of their comfort zone. In his book that changed my outlook, Do It! Let's Get Off Our Buts, Peter McWilliams writes about converting the anxiety into enthusiasm. It's amazingly simple: Recognizing how normal the anxiety is sparks a recognition that you're finally doing something, which turns it into excitement: "I'm doing something! I've started the journey!"

These folks refuse to be afraid. Now wait a minute, I know I just said they're scared to death. But they refuse to let the fear control them, and they convert the out-of-the-comfort-zone fear (even terror) into a positive force.

To all who are making changes and starting journeys, I raise my cup of coffee (a little early for wine and champagne as I write this, but feel free to pour one for yourself) in a toast. It's a cliché to say "The journey is the reward," but dang it, clichés become clichés because they're true.

To all who are still stuck in "I want to do that someday" mode, what are you waiting for? Do one thing today to advance that dream — even a little thing along those lines will create a power surge that will inspire you to do another little thing tomorrow, and the next day, and the next thing you know, you're on your way.

One of my favorite stories is about the friend who thought about going to law school at age 58. He told a friend, "If I start today I'll be 61 years old when I get out." His wise friend replied, "Yeah, so? And how old will you be in three years if you don't start today?"

He got the degree. And you can do what you're thinking of doing. Start now.

If you want to sing out, sing out

This is a corollary to the concept of "refuse to be afraid." In looking back at the early days of this little blog, and feeling that sense of omphaloskepsis that's overtaken me in recent days, I find a reduced sense of enthusiasm in my musings of recent months. What's up with that?

Rather than mope about it and risk reader boredom, I did a quick search for this song and found an especially sweet version. See if you don't have the same sense of "Thanks, kids, I needed that" that I did.

Another lull in the action

Seems to me I read somewhere that somebody spent a bunch of our money and concluded that a lot of people spend Sunday night and the early Monday morning hours dreading to go back to the wage-slave job after a couple of days' rest. No foolin', Sherlock. And thanks for spending our money on another investigation of the obvious.

The last few days around here have been largely spent on omphaloskepsis and the editing of a couple of upcoming books I've told you about — but it doesn't hurt to remind you that The Adventures of Myke Phoenix should appear shortly and Wildflower Man a couple of weeks after that at this handy location. Tell all your friends and lovers — viral marketing is the only marketing I can afford at this stage in my career as an author and publishing mogul.

Once those are out of my way and (hopefully) in your hands, most of my free time will be devoted to preparing Refuse To Be Afraid for a July release, and that will involve a great deal of thoughts that likely will bring my mind back to the themes of this blog. I expect the posting will pick up as that work develops.

Dan Fogelberg 1951-2007

Well, damn. I just wasn't in the mood for this.

Dan Fogelberg, the singer and songwriter whose hits "Leader of the Band" and "Same Old Lang Syne" helped define the soft-rock era, died Sunday at his home in Maine after battling prostate cancer. He was 56.

Maybe it's because he's only slightly older than me, this death leaves me melancholy. I'm not that familiar with most of his music, but the songs I did hear him sing have a bittersweet quality and depth beyond most of the stuff that surrounded him on the radio. The two songs the reporter cited may be the best examples of that.

And then there's this one, which takes me back to another time and another place ...



We drank a toast to innocence
We drank a toast to now
And tried to reach beyond the emptiness
But neither one knew how.

Quotidian be damned

I come to rehabilitate the reputation of our commentator who goes by CK. From the beginning, I saw this person as someone who is on my side, who warned me that my burst of creative inspiration upon finishing The Fountainhead would probably be beaten down by the quotidian - which, after consulting my dictionary, I interpreted as a friendly reminder that the day-to-day drudgery of earning a living in the Job Culture would tug unceasingly at my desires. This was a small splash of cold water, but I took it as helpful advice - better to hear it from a friendly voice in advance than to be surprised by it later on.

Or, to affirm that I understood the original intention, as CK wrote in response to this weekend's musing: "I was not intending to throw cold water or subtly shiv your aspirations; I was just giving a warning of what to expect when you actually go for it and start to succeed." And, in that context, it was a successful warning! And I would not second-guess yourself, CK ("I probably should have just cheer-leaded for you"), because that alternative would not have been as thought-provoking and (back to the 60s) mind-expanding as your actual response was.

Now in response to the follow-up question ("So you have had two weeks at it, how goes the effort?") - Well, that rascally quotidian has indeed gummed up the works, and the New Novel is not much farther along than it was when I first wrote about it a couple of weeks ago.

But on the plus side, my thoughts have been refined and clarified and my confidence rebuilt to the point where I am thinking, not in terms of producing one new book by the end of 2008, but four. Three (including the currently delayed but ready-to-go print edition of The Imaginary Bomb) will be comprised largely of work I've produced over the years and allowed to lay dormant, and the fourth will be the aforementioned New Novel.

The idea has been my Christmas present to myself. The execution will be my yearlong New Year's gift.

First day of school

The conversation turned to the first day of college, and around the table a couple of folks talked about 1962, and 1970-something, and other times long ago and far, far away. I didn't contribute, but suddenly I was on a plane above the clouds thirtysomething years ago.

I remember looking out the window for most of that 1,000-mile flight. It was a cloudy day down below, which meant bright sunshine and interesting shapes and contours above the clouds. I was on my first solo adventure away from family, the first major step in my life that was almost completely my decision - my parents, bless them, had left it up to me which college to choose. It turned out to be a good choice, but of that day, I remember being enthralled by the flight, and by the bright blue sky when I landed - the clouds over my departure broke up at my destination, and I landed in a place with as much sunshine as I'd seen up above.

My reminiscence broke up with a sudden realization - that bursting feeling of freedom that day was exaltation. That day, with my life before me, at the beginning of a four-year solo adventure full of promise and hope and all that stuff, I felt as free as I ever did.

You wish you could bottle a feeling like that, so when you need it you just open the bottle and breathe and there it is again. For just a few moments at a conference table, I realized we do bottle those feelings and we can bring them back.

Freedom tastes so good. Why do we ever set it aside?

Sudsy setback

After my triumphant beginning Tuesday morning, a minor bump on the superhighway to literary fulfillment. The alarm went off at the same time this morning, I stumbled out of bed after an interesting dream the same way, staggered down to my play station (I shall refuse to call writing my Great Freedom Novel "work") and accomplished nothing in an hour or so.

Wha happened?

Reconstructing the previous 12 hours, I was struck by the fact that I spent three hours in front of the television set and consumed a greater amount of my favorite adult beverage than usual Tuesday night.

Moral of the story: If I spend that much time and effort shutting my brain down for the night, I should not be surprised if jumpstarting my brain is a major task in the morning.

Onward and upward.

Attack of the 50-Foot Quotidian

An interesting exchange - and a new word for me - followed my book report on Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead. I wrote about how the book had filled me with motivation to do my best and exercise my creative juices.

In case you don't follow the comments, CK wrote:

So many had that same feeling you have expressed after reading The Fountainhead or Atlas Shrugged; don't be alarmed, the feeling will pass.

After I replied, "CK, I hope when you said 'the feeling will pass' you didn't mean the feeling where I said 'It makes me want to go write another Great American Novel, compose a symphony or two, and otherwise exercise my muse to death,'" came the response:

That is exactly what I meant. The quotidian wins over the exalted.
In Fountainhead, Rand created archetypes; in Atlas Shrugged she fleshed them out. Finish A.S. and you will know the exaltation feeling again and a few weeks or months or years later and you re-read A.S. and wonder what happened to you in the interim. The symphony will not be finished, the Great Novel or Expose will remain inchoate; the world shaking business plan will have gathered dust in the face of the inevitable quotidian.

Quotidian: adj. (rhet.), daily, occurring every day. What a great word! What a depressing observation! And perhaps/probably true. From the launch of this blog, I have been occasionally writing about my hopes and dreams for the future, things I'm going to do someday when I break away from the, err, quotidian. The daily grind, the wage-slave job, keeps getting in the way.

Eight days after finishing The Fountainhead, I have tinkered around the edges of the dreams, set down a page full of notes about the novel, worked on a number of side projects - and worked the day job as usual, caught Sunday's ball game, Heroes and House - I don't think CK was trying to throw cold water as much as keep me grounded in reality, but I must say that without his/her little tweak, I may not even have tinkered around the edges.

That's the challenge of motivational moments - staying motivated. What I need is the fire in the belly that comes when you've lost your wage-slave job and have to find a new way to keep the lights on and put food on the table - and do it while maintaining the wage-slave job as a security blanket. Is that wanting to have my cake and eat it too? As the dreams glisten tantalizingly at the edge of my consciousness, I fear that I'll only launch the dreams by working up the guts to pursue them full time. What's that you say, B.W.? "Refuse to be afraid"? How dare I throw my own words up in my face ...

Hmmm ... ignore the cheerleader, save my world? Maybe the writer's strike will free up a few hours a week for the pursuit of happiness - or maybe I should shut up and dream.