I sat on the deck this evening touching up a story that's due on Monday. The sun had already dropped down below the trees but shafts of lingering light painted the clouds a subtle tint of rose. I wish I knew how to describe the sky at dusk, because I'm sure it would come in handy in future writings. A silent jet slid off toward the southeast and I stopped writing for a moment to watch. It looked as if it would fly into the yawning mouth of the quarter moon, but it missed.
I looked back at the screen of my laptop and I realized that I'm finally doing what I've dreamed of doing for years. I'm one of those people who spent a big chunk of their life working for the money. That's not necessarily a bad thing because had I not done that early on, I might not be in a position to do what I want to do now. But during the commutes to work, during mindless meetings and conference calls, I painted pictures in my mind. And in those pictures, I was interviewing interesting people and writing about their lives. I also saw myself playing music and traveling.
After what seems like an eternity, I'm now doing the things that I imagined. I'm meeting and interview incredible people now. And next week, Jilda and I are performing at the Frank Brown International Songwriter's Festival in Gulf Shores.
There's an old saying about advice that I should probably apply here - Advice be very mindful of giving it because wise men don't need it, and fools won't heed it - but still, I feel obligated to those who on a whim might listen.
Do what you have to do to survive, but NEVER give up on your dreams.
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