I always dreamed of being an author. A photographer. A world-traveler. A champion. A musician. An adventurer. A creator. And a long and oddly disconnected assortment of other ambitious and far-reaching versions of my imaginative perfection.
If I were to be the best that I might be, I would be the kind of woman who never gives up on the world, nor tires of chinking bit by bit to make it better. I would be a person who continues, despite what hits the fan, to spy and snatch the best. I would be someone who doesn’t give up, who squashes fear with aplomb, who rips off the dress covering the nakedness and ends up standing, whole and proud, looking (naturally) quite good.
In my vision, I would take the sum of my experiences, subtract the misgivings and doubts, multiply a few delusions of grandeur and then divide by the hardest lessons learned. With that, magically, my dreams would gel, my eclectic way of becoming the best and perfect me, that dream I’ve long-held, would equate.
What I do here is connect back to the equation inside, the mishmash of things I like, combining what brings me meaning with slices of what I do or do not understand. Deep as I make it sound, it’s really just my way to keep dreaming. You, reader of my blog, keep the idea of being an author, photographer, traveler, champion, musician, adventurer, creator and all other such dream stints alive. Thanks be to you.