rafting metaphor: in a pond

I am certainly unfastened to any good rafts, instead I chose to make my own. Ah, my raft. My real Zora. That pretty golden jewel-machine, which has rusted (even the prettiest of rafts seem to go out of style). So where the hell am I now?
In a green rusted raft, riding the same river. But there's more.
Steamboats were passing me by not too long ago and now they're gone too. Steamboats! loaded with my friends! For goodness' sake, those steamboats threw me off, rocked my boat away with their wakes of speed. me, in my copper old raft without a rutter..

oh yeah, that's another thing. the rutter's broken, most completely broke off for no reason, so I was forced to toss the rest of it overboard. Geez at least you can steer a rusted raft when it has a rutter.
And then what happened? the flow stopped. That's right. Downstream became upstream because the freakin flow haulted! Don't get me wrong, I can appreciate serenity, just not when you've got a lunch stop to rendezvous with.
So here I sit, in a pond too pretty to appreciate with no river's flow to move me on by, in a rusted raft without a rutter and no more steamboats even to rock me away. Nothing but a couple of empty shores and a frictionless flow on one bright sunny afternoon. Gosh, how strange. I never expected this.
No current in a floating ugly raft. whoda thunk

I do however have a paddle and a book. I'm not frantic yet, at least there's these two things. Well the book I have read a good few times now, and marked all up. During my prior ride, pages were torn out, words scribbled over..still its the same old story no matter what page I turn to. And my paddle? Its a single, so the going is rough. You scoop water on the left side, then switch to scoop water on right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Right. Left.
"All Forward! Hard Hard, dig it in! annnnd...STOP!"
Ok ok , pretending to be a river guide in a rusted raft on an empty dead river gets you nowhere.
You know what I dream about? that someone pushes me. Gosh I'm sick of doing this on my own. Anyone, hop on please. I promise I'll make it a kickbutt of a ride, we'll hit all the rapids the wrong way and then thirst ourselves to death with droning conversations about nature and people. Anyone? Poop.

Paddle, book, raft, sun, shores, river water, solidarity... what a weird equation. Am I missing something? Is there something my eyes just don't see, something from another dimension haunting over like a supernatural Being, waiting for the right moment to appear? I mean, at this point it's just me and my paddle. That's all I've got.

Someone told me tonight that I have no family trade or business to fall back into. They were right, there nothing. I guess except for the few trades I've made for myself. Theatre, blah. Rafting jobs, yeah. Pizza Delivery, oh woo hoo. Education, sure. Food service, whatever. Snowboarding, I wish. Flight school? Justin that was seriously a bright idea.

God what else? Nada? seriously? Is all I've got a college degree with straight A's, a flexible body and my mini brain that works on overtime all the time? You know, I'll take anything you throw at me at this point, I'll commit to anything, so long as it allows me to love like I always love, but freely again.
A paddle and a book are not enough equipment for handling this heavy raft. Somebody with freaking fingers, please, POINT!
this raft metaphor is driving me crazy
I'll keep you updated.



here we are, on the river again.