Beauty Blocker: Staring Out the Window
So many paths untaken, and choices made with no ‘returnable unworn with tags only’ receipt. Thinking of all the things you coulda woulda shoulda done is a great way to get depressed. And always staring out the window, dreaming what would be better than now, will only make now (and you) uglier.
Here’s a short list of my solo driving with great music on daydreams; things I wish I did or was capable of:
1. Piano or drum prodigy
2. Super sexy secret agent spy/assassin
3. Supermodel (I want a do-over)
4. Fluency in 5 languages. At least.
5. Author of amusing, heartbreaking novel that changes people’s lives
6. No wait, SECRET author who only becomes known when accepting the Nobel Prize
7. Dancer who travels on tour with major acts and takes really cool photographs of it all that’s published in a coffee table book
8. Of course I come up with the cure to AIDs while perfecting a new formula to make eyelashes grow longer and thicker.
9. A genius at something. I don’t care what- just something.
10. Lastly, a strong and pioneering social worker that rebuilds families and communities through teachings of kindness and tolerance. I’m featured on Oprah and she gifts me with an Audi and a pair of Louboutins.
No, none of these things did or will happen. I’ll probably have a baby and eventually learn to love American Idol. But, you know what? That’s ok. (Not the American Idol part.)
I hate those little plaques that say ‘laugh’ ‘love’ ‘live’ or some shit in a cutesy font and ‘old scroll’ edges. But that’s pretty much the point I’m getting at. There’s always that ex who might have been better if only such and such had been different, or that job opportunity turned down in favor of another. One of my favorite dad quotes ‘There’s no such thing as a no risk proposition’ sums up the idea that with each decision, in the series of decisions called life, there is a loss and that’s just that. So it goes. What are we going to do?
So let’s have a laugh at the expense of a loved one and live through it. It’s happy hour.

Or, there’s always Jesus
