Overdrawn

I've always been a girl who dreamt big. After all, it's free. I like anything at a discount. I make the most of free. So, my dreams are epic. Limitless. But they do come with a bit of a cost.

While I am a dreamer, I'm not a fantasist. My dreams are reality based. I don't expect to meet an exotic (and truly handsome) prince from a little known European monarchy who will whisk me away, make me his queen and we'll live in the well-heated castle (replete with a moat) in a happily-ever-after manner. No. But I have often said I intend to be William's Wallace Simpson. Oh, come on. Stranger things have happened.

I'd like to win the lottery. But I only play the $50,000 jackpot. Better odds. Name kept out of the paper. And my real goal is to just pay off my bills. I don't need a McMansion.

The dream I have for my life is a simple one. I get to live on my own terms. Make a decent living doing what I love. Have a great guy to share it with. Sure, there are additional perks I'd indulge in, like multiple homes. But, even in my dreams, they are modest. A place in LA near the water (which I have now with rent control). Perhaps a pied-á-terre in Manhattan. A flat in Dublin. Something quaint in Tuscany. I'd rent those out when I'm not there, of course. Like I said, reality based. Rental income is nothing to sniff at.

I don't want a big, fancy car. I love my Ghetta. She'll soon be nine. I think if I got another car it would be a Jetta or a Rabbit or a Mini. Although, the Audi turbo wagon is kind of nice. My dream wardrobe just consists of the basics. Something comfortable and right for every occasion. But I wouldn't mind having Grace Kelly's wardrobe from "Rear Window". We need an Edith Head revival. I wonder if the Gap could pull that off?

A simple life for me would truly be a dream. Funnily enough, getting to that simplicity has been a challenge. While I'm living life mostly on my own terms, there is a price to that. The stubbornness grows with time. I don't hold myself open to a "Plan B". I've invested too much in my aspirations to turn back now. I find myself mentally pacing, holding breath, gritting my teeth as I wait for an answer. What I've long ago planted and nurtured is due to finally bloom. However, I've been waiting an awfully, awfully long time for that. When one gets close to seeing something come to fruition, one's patience is spent. Overdrawn, in fact. Optimism turns into bullheaded agitation. Irritation sets it. Then a pit in one's stomach grows. Please, don't tell me we are back to square one. Not again.

These aren't failures or set backs, just par for the course in a creative field. A path that doesn't come with a map or signposts to let you know you are nearing your destination. Because, when it happens, it really does come overnight. Or, after lunch. Years and years of work culminate into a moment of success. Perhaps a mention in a trade. A blurb on the internet. A Twitter post (or five, since they are small). Until then, there are merely blips and hope and opportunities that come one's way. Blip. Blip. Blip.

So I sit in a patience deficit. Blue from holding breath. Cramped from crossing fingers. Blind from staring at the BlackBerry. Waiting for the call or email to come so I know, one way or another, what move to make next. It's not the end of the line. Not a brick wall or hurdle, just another step. Whether it's forward or back or lateral has yet to be determined. I need the BlackBerry to vibrate in order to know that. One thing is for certain, though: At the end of the day I can always count on my friends. Their love and support and patience comes in surplus.