Here we go...

I am superwoman. I can fly. I’ve performed at the Grammy’s. I’ve been a spy. I am an angel. I am a rebel. I hang out with rock stars and do rock star things. I write for a living in my Parisian pied-a-terre. I do good things in the world. I am ambitious. I am smart. And beautiful. I have traveled the world and seen all that it has to offer. I can do anything. I am never afraid. I am confident. I never worry about what others think. When I speak, people listen. I have great posture. I have amazing friends. I never complain. (I have nothing to complain about). I have it all. I do whatever I want. Anytime I want to do it. And I sure as hell do it well.

Sometimes I float down from my daydreams as gently as a feather drifts to the ground. The warm halo of light around me quietly fades while the real world softly comes back into focus in front of me. I am aware. I am calm. I breathe. I smile.

Other times, reality smacks me hard across the cheek and then shoves me harshly back into my unsuspecting body. I manage to scowl back as the real world flips me the bird. I land hard on my ass and dab protectively at my smudged dreams with a crumbling tissue.

I am a dreamer. The world where I choose to spend most of my time is right up in my head.

The reality? I am average. I sing mainly in the shower and/or the car. I am a daughter, a sibling, a wife and a mother. I am often tired. I am self-deprecating. I worry. I am forgiving. I am sarcastic. I am impatient. I try not to judge people based on the contents of their grocery carts. I am thirty-five. I am open-minded. I am a paradox. I talk too much/I don’t talk enough. I am a middle-ground of awkward. I like to make things with my hands. I see two sides to a story. I like texture and layers in both people and things. I love libraries and bookstores and the smell of books. I swear too much. I get cranky when I need to eat. I am shorter than I’d like to be. I want to travel more. I am loyal. I prefer city sidewalks to nature trails. I’ve let a lot of dreams burn out. I proposed. I have too many freckles. I am good at spelling. I interrupt too much. I am pear-shaped. I think money was a horrible invention. I wonder what the future holds. My eyes are green. I like impractical shoes. I really like houses. And modern design. And food. Oh, and wine. I am unnaturally obsessed with NYC. I can’t do math. I like to knit. I learn things best when someone shows me. I wish on stars. I wonder why weekends are only two days long. I wish I could trust as easily as I used to. I am a really bad liar. I am stubborn. I am hard on myself. I am tolerant. I am indecisive. I am all of these things and more.

I am a dreamer.

And I have stories to tell…