My Norman Rockwell, I Suppose

It's a bad week for me, and I wish I could say otherwise, because I wanted so badly for everything to work out Okay ... I'm just fine with Okay. One little mishap after another, and I feel so tiny. It's not so bad I suppose - in the grand scheme of things, that is.

I wish to be someone else this week. Someone thin and perhaps a redhead, someone with two parents and a brother and sister who are closer in age. My mother's mother will live at home with us. My brother will be a third year in college on a full athletic scholarship and my sister will be out of college for two years, working for a major internet company. They will be wildly successful for their ages, and their future will be one of great promise and integrity.

I will have a different career, one that will allow me to utilize my organic math and science skills - I will be a criminologist or a patholigist. I will have cat and a bird. I will wear sneakers, often. I will like modern decor. My hair will be stick straight, and I will whine at having to blow dry it every morning.

My father will be a plastic surgeon with a lucrative private practice. My mother will own a craft store and create seasonal wreaths and decorate Christmas trees for the affluent crowd. We will all still get together for a pasta dinner once a week.

This is only part of my alternate life. I could dream, but what is it really worth. And do I dislike who I really am? I don't believe that I do.