A Punk Rock Dali Lama

I have so many things that I “want” to do. Be an actress, sing in a band, create audio documentaries, clean my house, plant a garden. But all I ever seem to do is get over whelmed by all the things I am NOT doing. God bless TV, sucks all the feelings right out. Depression becomes submission in less time than it takes the King of the Hill theme song to play.

For as long as I can remember I’ve wanted to be an actress. And for the same length of time I figured I never could be one because of my weight. Over time I’ve gotten more comfortable I guess. I mean, I am who I am. A smoking, drinking, loud talking chick who can run 3 miles, bike a century and shops at Lane Bryant. Never did fit the mould.

I was going to say that I’m of the age when introspection is natural. The mid age period where career changes are normal and most divorces happen. But truth be told I’ve never been content. If happy…why not sad? If I’m angry, why am I not accepting? I have never been good enough for me. I want to be the fucking punk rock Dali Lama. What the Hell?

Even as I bitch about this, I know somehow that it is this very dichotomy that is most profoundly me. It is the ability to be a fool and recognize it while continuing to act foolishly, that defines me. If I found a bottle with a genie, I would ask for fearlessness. The ability to answer the call of creativity without fear of failure or judgment is something I would be willing to sell my soul for.

But then perhaps living with out fear is just that. Soulless?