I don't know what to write on my blog anymore. It feels like I am at a dead end, walking the same path day after day. Cramming my head full of feminist theory and "post modern" ideologies--all for a grade? Where are the golden wheat fields of my imagination, the comfortable little cottage that stood on the cross roads of my day dreams? The neighbors coming and going on their platinum hover cycles, bringing word of the warrior prince in the hill countries to the east? The deep purple sunsets, the pale crimson mist of mornings walking my make believe golden retriever? Where is Old Yeller...and tree forts? They used to be there when I closed my eyes. Now only contracts for food and rent, a deed on my body, my mind, for minimum wage. I had a dream once in which I set out to climb a tall snowy mountain shrouded in black storm clouds. I thought I would have reached the summit by now, whistling merrily, walking leisurely down the other side, into the rich prairie plains to build a castle and tend an an orchard of apples. Fishing and drinking steins of thick red beer. A castle. No mot necessary. And flags. Flags waving with my family crest stitched in silver on a green field of felt. Is it still ok for a man to dream about his castle, about family and friends, and sword fighting on the holodeck? Tomorrow I am going to wear a cape to work and shoot laser beams from my eyes. Kings do not keep inns. Super hero's do not wear sanitary rubber gloves. Drip coffee and slippers, like any Sunday morning, prasing God in the barn chapel, smelling cooked yams simmering in the kettle. Tomorrow I will wake up and put on my boots, stir the fire and grab my walking stick. I have to traverse tomorrow but the path looks so steep.
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