Coming
Kevin Costner was fortunate in Field of Dreams to hear the voice of James Earl Jones, giving him direction with his destiny. A few simple words, whispered over the waves of gold, inspiring him to do something with his life.
If you build it, they will come...
Now, not many have a Hollywood version of destiny. We don't have the booming timbre of Darth Vader to gently force us to live our lives. This is reality. And, with reality, you have to build many fields before something happens.
Although, it's not only about fields.
How many bad dates do you have to go on before you find the love of your life? How many times do you have to purge before you can fit into that pair of pants for your friend's party on the weekend? How many times do you have to fuck your boss to get to the middle? How many? How many?
You keep on thinking it's going to come, but it doesn't. Then, you think it's going to come again, but it doesn't. Over and over. A repetitious and vicious cycle of ups and downs.
And, when it does come, it's short and rather anticlimactic. No fireworks. No cigarette.
Countless times I've come over the past several years. So many times that I have no juice left. Parched. Dehydrated. Powder.
It's exhausting.
Still, my fields get razed and rebuilt, time and time again, hoping that my time will come. There will be no waiting by the waves of gold, expecting a voice to whisper my destiny to me.
And, when my times does come, I'm coming hard.
If you build it, they will come...
Now, not many have a Hollywood version of destiny. We don't have the booming timbre of Darth Vader to gently force us to live our lives. This is reality. And, with reality, you have to build many fields before something happens.
Although, it's not only about fields.
How many bad dates do you have to go on before you find the love of your life? How many times do you have to purge before you can fit into that pair of pants for your friend's party on the weekend? How many times do you have to fuck your boss to get to the middle? How many? How many?
You keep on thinking it's going to come, but it doesn't. Then, you think it's going to come again, but it doesn't. Over and over. A repetitious and vicious cycle of ups and downs.
And, when it does come, it's short and rather anticlimactic. No fireworks. No cigarette.
Countless times I've come over the past several years. So many times that I have no juice left. Parched. Dehydrated. Powder.
It's exhausting.
Still, my fields get razed and rebuilt, time and time again, hoping that my time will come. There will be no waiting by the waves of gold, expecting a voice to whisper my destiny to me.
And, when my times does come, I'm coming hard.
2 Comments:
Awesome post. I couldn't agree with you more.
Cheers,
ken
Now, see, I was going to go the whole "anticipation of coming events" is more than half the climax route. or something
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