Pursue your Dreams

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Your dreams lie in your heart, the pursuit can be delayed, but not forever. Here is a little story about a woman who decides it is time to Pursue your Dreams.

Brad, you touch my ass again and I will knock you out with your own beer bottle.” This produced some laughter at Brad’s table and also a little tension. Some of his friends didn’t like it when Brad did that type of shit. But it was always a negotiation in their minds; whether to say something and risk his wrath, or to shut up and pray for a decent outcome.

Luckily Shelley knew how to handle herself, she had been working at the Goodtime Bar and Grill for seven years and had dealt with Brad’s night in and night out. Brad’s face turned red from the heat of embarrassment, but he mumbled a sarcastic apology to save face, after that he became a quiet drunk for the rest of the night.

pursue-your-dreams-by-jennyShelley liked Brad well enough, he was hard working and very shy when not drinking. But get a few whiskeys and some beer in him and he started displaying what she learned in her sociology class was male privilege.  Bruce also had a baseball bat behind the bar in case things got rough, which  rarely happened.

Shelley was born and raised in Rarington and liked the town. She also enjoyed working at the Goodtime, money was good, she had lots of friends and she loved singing karaoke on the weekends. She loved old country best Tammy Wynett, Loretta Lynn, and Dolly Parton. But when she turned twenty-five some anxiety moved in and she wondered if maybe she wasn’t spinning her wheels a little bit.

Long dark hair, big brown eyes and a body full of curves, Shelley was quite the looker, and when not dealing with the likes of Brad, was fairly sweet and good at reading people. She was aware she had broken a  lot of hearts at the Goodtime and it bothered her a little. She did not like to see people hurting, but she also wasn’t going to change herself to make anyone happy.

Lots of guys wanted her based on looks alone, and they always approached with a lot of charm or a lot of aggression, like Brad. But many a shy man was drawn to her sensitivity, this type barely said a word, but she would often see them staring at her with all sorts of longing in their eyes. They would move back to their beers if she even glanced at them. She often wondered about this type of man, why they never made a move or said a word, yet made it very plain of their interest.

Independently was how she liked to live; lots of time to herself, to read, write, listen to music and dream. She had a heroine junky not boyfriend who was kind, he stopped by to see her once in a while and that was enough for her.

Her voice was sweet and a little raspy, people whooped and hollered whenever she stepped to the microphone, she oozed sensuality. Trouble was she couldn’t even think about singing in front of people unless she had quite a bit of whiskey  in her. Folks were always asking her to sing at weddings and funerals but the idea terrified her and she always said no.

However her favorite uncle had recently died and she finally broke down and told her dad she would sing at the funeral. The anxiety it was creating may have been why her voice had some extra juice in it when she was telling off Brad. The morning of the funeral she drove to the church by herself. The Spring air was sweet and clear and the sun was shining, all the windows were down and she sang softly to herself.

When Shelley walked in and saw how packed the church was she scurried off to the bathroom, sat down on the toilet, pulled a small flask out of her boot and took a couple of small snorts, which did slow her racing heart some. She said a few prayers to Jesus, wild pleas actually, just hoping she wouldn’t blow it.

When it was time to sing, she rose a little shaky, closed her eyes and waited for her cousin Gene to start playing the piano. Walking After Midnight, it was her uncles favorite song. Hearing the familiar notes calmed her some and she began to sing. She had no idea how she sounded , but when she opened her eyes at the end she noticed she was crying a little and so were a lot of other folks. She had done alright.

Over the next couple of weeks Shelley’s anxiety level rose and fell dramatically depending on what she had decided. She was thinking about taking a risk. She had several notebooks of ramblings, poems and songs, and a bunch of money in the bank. Finally one morning she asked herself what was the worst think that could happen, and all she could come up with was that her feelings may get hurt a little, which had happened before.

Shelley quietly put some things together stopped by to say goodbye to her parents and a few close friends. Shelley had prepared herself for her mother who said, “Who the hell do you think you are, one song at one funeral and you think you are the Queen of the rodeo,” then walked into the bedroom, her anger hiding her tears. It was tougher with her dad, because he was kind. All’s he said was, “This is so rushed Shelley, but I support you.” Her sister Jennifer, agreed to take over Shelley’s apartment, she had been living at home and wanted some room to stretch out a little.

That evening she was on the road to Nashville. The plan was to land a bar job, and well she didn’t really have a plan after that, but she had seen herself several times in dreams soaking up the applause on the stage at the Grand Ole’ Opry. Why not me she thought. Why not indeed.

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About Author

Hobo John

Hobo John here, I am a fifty year old man currently living in a small town in Idaho, this is also where I grew up. Like any Idaho boy I love the outdoors, and am a sports enthusiast. But I also love the arts and paint a little myself. In Proverbs it says, "A man's pursuit is his kindness, " and that is my only true mission in life. I like to write about just about anything; songs , children's stories, politics, short stories, however, I have not attempted a novel yet. I also consider myself a bit of a philosopher, after seven years of living the homeless life I actually started to enjoy it. I started writing little phrases that I hope contain some wisdom. I call them Hobo Metaphysics. "Gentle beats the shit out of aggressive," being one of my favorites. Peace to you folks, "I love you with everything that I have." That is my motto and the truth of things.

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