To Play For Keeps or Dreams

Dedicated to P.B. Thank you for the education and the inspiration. 

The imagination is a convenient mechanism for amusement. I use my imagination all the time. For instance, I imagine myself living the life of a nefarious criminal, like a bank robber or a pirate queen. Its called Escapism and I do this when life gets me down, when there's nothing good on TV, or whenever I take the time to mentally prepare for the circumstance of being stranded on a desert island without a young Jeff Goldblum. Escapism is how psychologists explain Dreams.

I can assure you, I'm not a Crazy person, and I can guarantee you that everyone participates in this activity at one time or another. **Note: I did not write Psychopath. The Crazy I'm reffering to here is the cut-loose, uber-adventurous, slightly alcoholic Crazy that we all wanted to hang out with in college, but couldn't count on to show up.**

It would be awesome to be Crazy. To really let loose and do whatever, whenever, with no consideration for the consequences, and no care in the world for what anyone thinks of you. Crazy is impulsive and extreme. Crazy is wild and unihibited. But Crazy does not come with a retirement plan.

Crazy is a dream. A dream like being a famous actress is a dream. Attainable, but to make such a dream a reality takes a serious gamble. You have to put your trust in the hands of fate. Or marry someone rich. You have to have a certain abandon. You have to have a f%$k ton of faith in your talent and your rightness at being in the right place at the right time. You have to be ok with having nothing.

I went after The Dream. I had the rich guys and the nothingness. I abandoned reality. At one time, I actually tried out being The Crazy Face in the crowd. The I got a toothache. Crazy doesn't come with dental either.

So, since I've been there and done that, I'm back to square one with a stack of stories under my bum and the awareness of one adamant truth: I am a total wuss.

A wuss with a champagne taste, but no longer amused with her beer budget. More importantly though, I know now that I want stability. Maybe not stability in the form of a white picket fence and a minivan, but definitely a nice fluffy cushion.

And so I've adapted. My dream has changed. My real dream. The one of the MLK variety. I want comfort and security, and I want the independence that comes from earning it for yourself. I want to be able to afford generosity, and spontaneous travel, and aging. I want a job that satisfies me. Something stimulating, interesting. And well-paid. (To much to ask? What can I say?! I'm dreaming here!)

Life may be a game of chance, but I'm not in the mood to gamble. This round is for keeps.

Hunting Season

It would seem that everyone is getting married these days. It's the age, I suppose. People are pairing off so they can start monograming towels and buying supper sets on discount. Really, marriage is  a Magical Mystery, a Wonder of the Universe. But from where I'm sitting, marriage is a Mind-Rattle. It baffles me how two individuals are able to come together from such warped, bi-polar mindsets and figure out that being together beats living the alternative.

The other day, I heard tell of a young lady who bought her wedding dress a full two months before her boyfriend proposed. She just KNEW he was going to ask her and so one day she thought to herself, "I'll go out and spend a few grand on a white princess dress because I just KNOW its going to come of use later this wedding season." And then she went off skipping through a field of posies and talked to her animal friends. Seriously though, he proposed yesterday and they're Very Excited.

Meanwhile, back in reality, hundreds of thousands of guys are off trolling bars and clubs looking for the next "shorty" they'll refer to later as "junk" after they "banged that broad." (Phrases in quotations are excerpts from a fascinating conversation I heard at the gym recently.) One of my guy friends actually told me that although he was in a relationship with the girl he plans to marry,  he was living 4 hours away from her, and spending his weekends at local bars meeting... new friends. I asked him why he wasn't spending quality time with the future Mrs. and he said, "Why would I do that?!"

Umm.... ?

There lies the twist. That poor girl is off somewhere just knowing she and this guy will go off and live happily ever after, but has no promise from him, has no guarantee that this will happen, and feels like a total slut every time she hooks up with someone else in the meantime.  She has probably been obsessing about this since her first Disney movie, and that ante was upped when she learned about Bridal Registries. She wants it to happen yesterday, and he's hoping it won't happen 'til juuuuuust before his Mr. Jolly turns to jelly.

And yet, people are still getting married while they're young enough to have children.... This is why babies are called Miracles.