The First Hundred the light of eternity. "Life's a tough proposition, and the first hundred years are the hardest." Wilson Mizner

Tuesday, November 29, 2005


I really need to start keeping a notebook and pen on my bedside table, to write down random night thoughts and those fleeting dreams that sometimes wake me in the night. The details of last night's dream are a bit hazy, but I do know the moral of the story.

It was an important event, a large room was filled with many tables. The guests were seated, and I was to take the microphone, along with a "friend" (I don't know who she was, or who she represented). We had come to share something with the crowd; were to read our parts (I think it was poetry) from a single sheet of paper. My friend began; then, all she could do was stare at the paper, blink, and stammer. I couldn't believe she was having so much trouble reading a simple part, as she looked at me with, "What do I do now?" written all over her face. How could she be having so much trouble? It had gone smoothly in practice. Impatiently, I snatched the paper from her hands; poised to read the whole thing by myself. I was incredulous to see that the writing had turned to scribbles on the page.

Sometime between 10pm and midnight, I had a lesson in humility.


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