Changing Goals

My goals have got to change. And they have all ready slightly changed as the time of this writing.  It is April 21st 2003. 

I wanted to compose a story with bits and pieces from a list I have compiled. That list is a list of classic children’s literature.  I wanted to include a tribute, a bite to different classics of classic children’s literature into the story I am now working on. I have tried this with other things in the past. Frankly it’s getting me nowhere. All I do is compose lists of things I want to do or keep track of and I never do anything on the list. Or if I do, it’s not worth doing. I have a list of Sci-Fi Authors I want to collect. I want to collect at least one of their works in print. I have got quite a collection. But at what price. I never have read any of the books I have collected and yet I want to complete the collection. I must bandwagon this idea. This and the other one I was talking about. If I think hard I can make a list of things I should abandon. Sometimes by making the lists I feel a completion. Somehow that I have completed something even though I have not.

So these thoughts are incomplete. That’s ok. It’s time to move on. I will let myself complete the list someday of Sci-Fi Authors. When I’ve read what I have. I will complete a story with tribute’s to other literature after I have read some more of the literature I want to include. That will take time and I will probably not do it all. I have other important goals to do and work on.

I need to find a better job. I need to find a carrier. I need to plan a trip down to visit my friend Marshall. Sometimes this isolation of obsessive compulsive collecting and list making prevents me from doing things like keeping in touch with my friends as effectively as I could. I even have neglected my family at times. I wanted to make these thoughts into a major essay, but I think a journal entry describing my feelings will do. Sci-fi authors another time. Stories collected into one story another time. I perhaps should put the one short story composed of things from a Picture Book List on Hiatus for now. All though I hate to leave something incomplete. Or it’s as complete as I should make it for the time being. I have the other story I can work on. Can I be a writer? Am I meant to be a writer? I have so many other things to start working on. I  must realize that I may never do have the things I dream of. I must start thinking about dreaming and then dream and do instead of just thinking about ideas. This writing is a start. May it not be the finish.