As you’ve probably guessed by now, I’m a dreamer. I have had lots of dreams about the different directions my life could go. One of my dreams is to buy a plot of land somewhere down South or out West and live off the land with a vegetable garden, some cows, a goat, and some chickens. Another dream is to buy an RV camper and drive around the country, and maybe Mexico and Canada. Another dream is to teach English in another country, like South Korea. Of course a man is involved in each of these off-the-grid scenarios. This man would go with me and do the same, and we’d live in our own cocoon of joyful love.

My new “dream” was just to embrace life as it is, go back into marketing, be a single career woman, live in a high-rise in the city, and just make a lot of money so I can do the things I like: get a personal trainer, take rock-climbing lessons, take jewelry-making classes, get regular massages, go on vacations with my single girl friends, eventually meet someone whose life is on a similar trajectory, and enjoy spending our riches together. This plan involves lots of mad cash that we basically shower in, with designer clothes, a luxury apartment with a steam shower, a maid, and a personal assistant who’ll organize our closets and check our mail, and a personal shopper, because shopping is a pain in the ass, and if I’m going to sell my soul then I better get a lot of fucking money for it. It may not sound like a spiritual path, but for that I’d go to Buddhist dharma talks and meditate regularly to try to get some serenity and accept life on life’s terms. I’d be like, Poor me, I have so much money and I hate my job, but then I’d learn to like my job because I’d promote something I believed in, and someone would eventually hire me to do what I’m good at, and I’d gain confidence in giving presentations to VPs and CEOs, and I’d become a VP myself, and I’d mentor younger women and tell them to find what they like to do (…because that’s what I’ve done? — Because that’s NOT what I’ve done.) and the money will come. I don’t know how all this will happen but I hope that whatever happens I can embrace it without wanting to commit suicide or feel like it’s all a big fucking lie.

If this all sounds delusional to you, well it sounds that way to me too, now that I’m articulating my plans into words. So I feel like I’m back to square one in that I have no fucking idea what to do. All I know to do at this point is just to keep doing what I’ve learned to do, which is what’s in front of me, and to try not to project out so far into the future with all these plans and ideas of what it will look like. Honestly though, I don’t even know what’s in front of me.

One thing I did today was tell the CEO’s right-hand man that I have years of marketing experience and would love to do marketing for the grocery store. Do I really believe that I could do a good job at it? Not entirely, but this marketing is my only experience and I can’t be a grocery store worker forever.

One of my co-workers is studying to become an acupuncturist, and two others are studying to become nutritionists. I’d considered nutrition myself but decided against it because I didn’t want to borrow more money, but now I’m going back for an MBA which will require a student loan, so it doesn’t really make sense that I’m doing this. I’m only doing it because it seems the path of least resistance. What I really want is to write an award-winning memoir that becomes a critically-acclaimed mini-series, but I have no idea how to do that. It may sound like a child’s delusional fantasy, but if other people have done it, then why not me? If my fellow classmate from Queens can write a memoir that got endorsed by Oprah, and in my humble opinion I’m just as talented as her, then why not me?


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s