Pipe Dreams

I think we all know what we really want, or at least some little part of us does. That little truth is so often buried under the fears, the “shoulds”, the years of life that teach us that wanting is not having. I have been looking for my desire, digging through the rubble of the years in search of this tiny gem. I don’t deny that what we truly want changes and evolves over the years, but even as it comes into focus, we often brush it aside like a scam e-mail in our inbox.

Me, well it took me years to even figure out how to finish the sentence “I want….” Even then, I compromised. See, disappointment has traditionally been something I don’t do well with. I suppose to avoid looking like a young fool I found ways to find realistic versions of my dreams. If this seems like an oxymoron, it’s because it is. Dreams are meant to set you free, to let passion have its moment of unbridled glory.

This year I started excavating again. Still, when people asked me what I do, or what I wanted to do, I answered with some half-baked sentiment. Should I go to law school? (Then people will know how smart I am, I could make a difference, I could make enough money to do anything I wanted!) Should I go to journalism school? (I wouldn’t make any money, but then I could be a real writer! I don’t want to do actual journalistic work, but hey, it is close enough, right?) Should I do the stupid thing; go to NYU for a useless degree in food studies? (Ha! Wow, now that would be a good idea, spend more money on yet another degree I will never be able to use!) Well, shit, let’s hedge our bets and apply to all three, let life take care of the rest.

Dig, dig, dig. I love many things, but I have found one thing that has lasted the true test of time. The free time test! I love food. I like to read about it, talk about it, write about it, cook it, eat it, and travel for it. Before the rejection letters even started coming in, I knew which program I wanted to attend. Again, I compromised though. When people asked me what I wanted to do with the degree, I vaguely spoke of food marketing, a good fit because of my advertising background. I spoke about the FDA, as I am already a federal employee. I did not dare say what I could not even admit to myself. I could not say what I truly wanted. See, I don’t want to be thought of as silly. I don’t want people to laugh at my pipe-dreams.
Oddly enough, no one ever laughs, they even suggest those things I want so badly for myself. It is in fact me who brushes them aside. I laugh and say what a nice fantasy that would be. I often accuse those around me of standing in their own ways. Who knew I was the one most guilty of this very thing.

A few years ago a book called “The Secret” was all the rage. It encouraged you to visualize the life you wanted into existence. One tool for this “envisioning” was to take images of your desires and make a vision board, or poster of them. I thought, and still think, much of the principles are nonsense, but it is a good exercise to put together such positive ideas. Being lazy, I created PowerPoint collogues for myself. Even in these “dream boards” I cautiously included plan b’s.

Today I was feeling a bit blasé, so I decided to try to think of things that would make me happy. I made a brand new board. I created slides in the form of a futuristic timeline. Pictures of the classes I am teaching this spring, the events I will organize, the comforts that will get me through the winter. Summer was easy; full of little adventures, my best friend and vintage models in bathing suits. Fall was dominated by my joyous emersion into the NYU Masters program. The next slide was filled with pictures of my future travels, blogs and dinner parties. The final slide was a picture of where I want to end-up. The one I have never really made. It has pictures of my beautiful West Village apartment, decorated with mid-century modern furniture, it pictures a happy, exhausted couple from the 1950’s cleaning up after a dinner party, it pictures friends laughing, it pictures me cooking, it pictures me smiling one of my most beautiful smiles while leaning back into the arms of a smiling man, and it pictures me gleefully holding my first book. I began listening to Andy Williams’ “Moon River” and watching the slideshow of my future. It has been right in front of me all along.

I want to be a writer, open a restaurant, be beautiful, classic and vibrant, live in New York and surround myself with amazing people who make me laugh. I want to be in love, in love with my co-host, in love with my biggest fan and best friend. I want our love to be easy and happy and filled with laughter and endless awe and respect for one another. I want share my passion with people, follow my heart to the ends of the earth, I want to live a simple, complicated, joyful life. This is my pipe dream; this is what I sheepishly brush under the rug.

You know what? Sitting here alone, two days before my 26th Birthday, I uncovered my dirty little secret desire. It made me smile and it brought me back. I found an amazing woman this year. She is confident and charismatic, endlessly excited and alive, full of fearless love and passion. It has been her absence this last month that has made me feel so hollow. I looked for her in the mirror and saw only her shell staring back. Today, basking in the glow of my horizon, she walked back in my door. I feel as though she put me on like a suit of flesh and smiled with my lips as we began to melt back into one being.

I am not the girl I once was; I never have to be her again. Even when I feel myself slipping back into the gray past, I need only look for the light in my heart, flickering bravely and guiding the woman I have become back home. As far as my dreams, who knows, maybe they will prove to be the most realistic fantasy of all.