“I wish finding likable people with whom I could socialize and build history wasn’t such a Cyclopean feat. That’s right, I said Cyclopean.”
You might be thinking, what does that horse picture have to do with this post? Nothing. It’s just a cheap ploy to get your attention, as often my illustrations are in fact.
Some days, amazingly, I don’t really feel like externalizing my vibrant inner monologue. On these days I just want to blend into the desert scenery, become a part of the landscape, disappear into a gerbil hole. But I am not a cactus or a gerbil, so I resign myself to eating tons of candy (has anyone seen those giant M&M’s called Megas? Incredible) and making lists. Here goes.
I wish my hair would quit growing, cutting it really puts me out.
I wish I could understand the attraction of Twitter & Instagram, but I fear I am falling behind and modernity is no longer in my purview.
I wish I could write plot as well as I can write emotion and dialogue, then I could identify myself as a writer & not just a writer type. But no such luck.
I wish I could mourn less those moments passing or passed, and celebrate more the moments yet to come.
I wish the hint of sadness which resides perennially in my heart would vacate its chambers, and move, preferably out of the country. I hear France is nice this time of year.
I wish people didn’t assume my boobs were fake, it really bothers me, because I really can’t stand breast implants and women who get them. Sorry women, not sorry.
I wish pointed words made themselves readily available when I need them, and not 3 hours later when I don’t.
I wish memory was a trustier, less precarious component of my intellect.
I wish Santa Clause was real and cancer wasn’t. I know that’s a bit reductionist. The heart wants what it wants.
I wish desiring and possessing weren’t mutually exclusive.
I wish finding likable people with whom I could socialize and build history wasn’t such a Cyclopean feat. That’s right, I said Cyclopean.
I wish syrup was a constant table side accompaniment like salt or pepper.
I wish once a month my uterus didn’t have to undergo such tremendous discomfort.