Tuesday, November 08, 2011

I need a montage.

I wish I could be in a montage. I really need one right now.

You know, when you’re backed up against the ropes, everything is a mess, there doesn’t seem to be a way out and all you have is a small group of friends and a crazy idea that will only work if you get the timing just right.  But the only way to get from point A to point B is if that really encouraging music starts playing.   I feel like it should start to play any minute now.

What encouraging music?   You know..the montage music.  As soon as it starts to play, me and my friends will kick it into high gear.  Yep, we’ll work together to build stuff, we’ll exercise, someone will do some welding, we’ll have some minor set backs and maybe even a few laughs.  But by the end of that awesome song, we’ll have it pretty much figured out.   It only takes one song to lose weight, get in shape for the big fight, figure out the main problem or build that thing that’s going to (with a little luck) get the job done.  Heck, with the right song, we might even could build a house!

I just need to figure out how to get it to play. In the meantime, I’ll just sit here.  Geez, I hope that music starts soon.   I could use a good montage about now.

Or maybe...

A PSALM OF LIFE by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

WHAT THE HEART OF THE YOUNG MAN SAID TO THE PSALMIST

Tell me not, in mournful numbers, Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead that slumbers, And things are not what they seem.

Life is real ! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow, Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each to-morrow Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting, And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle, In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle! Be a hero in the strife!

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant! Let the dead Past bury its dead!
Act,— act in the living Present! Heart within, and God o'erhead!

Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time;

Footprints, that perhaps another, Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother, Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate;
Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.