THINGS TO DO AND THINGS TO DREAM OF DOING

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Life's a journey no matter if counted as such from major milestone or event like losing weight, fitting in new set of false teeth or just deciding on starting afresh. The before cannot be erased although the after is all that matters. I regularly start things over, odd habit it is to remain in an unsettling state yet carried forward like an expiring tin of beans. I just finished reading one of G. Orwell's novels - the one about a middle aged man who decides to escape to the world of his childhood, to the village he remembers as a rural haven of peace and tranquility. He's prettily convinced of the absurdity of this idea - no respectable husband, father and a citizen clears off all of a sudden in search for the world that no longer exists no matter how clear it can be seen in his mind. And when it's done, what was supposed to give answers and settle emotions has brought anxiety and proved him wrong. Embarrassment at obeying a silly dream...

I've had this feeling more often than I can admit openly - ideas that shouldn't possibly materialize are lived for and anticipated like Christmas morning. (Realistically we're all children in our hearts. Realistically we should embrace it and pursue every dream!) Heavy on the make-believe I suffer those moments daily - if looked at from a right perspective and especially not on an empty stomach - it's darn silly. Sparse on the reality, full on the entertainment. Held firmly on the hook of pure optimism. But I persist. Like a puppy that refuses to understand the order and gets away with it. I guess, you'll always get away with positive attitude, right? And an awkwardly glowed face and shiny eyes. Worked it to perfection. When it feels real but you can't still touch it, that's all that typically matters (on a clear day especially, you have to work it out more when the day is dark and cold and dreary). I love when it feels so real that I'm surprised when I still wake up in a loft apartment instead of staring at my own hydrangea garden. Try it, there's always a vacancy in happiness.

P. S. Mid-summer brings me plenty of thoughts of this kind. Imagine if it was hotter here!

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