|
Chelley's Inner Monologue
|
|
| |
|
|
| Monday, November 12, 2007
|
|
A Person should get what she wants... |
A Person should get what she wants. It's a sentiment expressed on last night's "Private Practice" and it got me thinking. What do I want? And why can't I have it? Our entire lives are spent wanting, hoping. Do we ever get what we truly want? And if we do, is it still what we want? Or have we moved onto something else when we get it? Sometimes I feel like the tortoise with the Hare on its back dangling a carrot in front of its face, always reaching for something new, never content with. But I still want, I still hope.
But what do I want? I want to write... for a living. I want to create stories that people can wrap themselves in, stories you fall into. I want to write stories that make you forget the wanting, or stories that you make you want more. I want to see those stories come to life... on TV, in the movies. I want my dialogue spoken with such conviction and compassion that you can reach out and touch it. I want to make the audience laugh, cry, despair, love,... feel the whole of human emotions.
But what do I want? I want a man... a man who loves me for who I am neurosis and all. I want him to never want me to change but push me when I need to. I want him to make me laugh. I want him to make me think. I want him to... love me the way I've never been loved before. I want him to get goose bumps when he sees me. I want his breath taken away when I kiss him years and years after we've been together. And I want the same thing for him. The pessimist in me says this can't be, that this is just a fairy tale. But that small little voice in my head, far in the back amongst the cobwebs wrapped around Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny says... maybe.
But what do I want? I want some semblance of control in my life. I want to reach out for that control and not feel like it's slipping through my fingers like smoke rising above my head, only leaving small, un-seeable traces. I want to feel as if I'm not dangling from the edge of a skyscraper with only the tips of my fingers grasping, trying to pull myself up only to find that with every move I'm falling further and further until there's no more ledge, just the pavement below beckoning. I want to feel that something in my life is right. I want to feel like I belong... somewhere, that there's a place I can go and not wear the mask I display for the world. I want to knock down the walls I've built to protect myself from heartbreak, from being me.
But what do I want? I want New York. I want to stride down the streets of New York City knowing that it's okay not to know everybody, that it's okay to hide among a crowd. I want Yankee stadium, and Little Italy, and Brooklyn, and subways, and taxicabs with drivers who barely speak english. I want an autumn in Central Park where all the colors of fall float around my shoulders to the ground where they crunch beneath my feet. I want sweaters and coats... coats, not jackets. I want snow in my hair, on my eyelashes. I want a coffee shop or a bar where my friends and I are known as regulars, where the waiter asks "Your usual?" I want a usual.
But what do I want? I want to be thin but still eat what I want to. I want to exercise without thinking "yuck." I want a fabulous apartment that reflects my personality without being uncomfortable. I want to wash dishes as soon as I'm finished with them. I want it to be okay that a cabinet is left open. I want to make my bed every morning without thinking "It's just going to be unmade tonight." I want to get off my ass and watch less TV. I want to watch more TV. (I'm complicated. What can I say.) I want to spend an entire day watching movies at a movie theater... for free.
But what I need... I need my hands to stop hurting.
What do you want? |
|
posted by Chelley 3:47 PM
 |
| |
|
|
|
|
|
<
|
|
|
|
|
Interesting to know.