"WRITTEN WORDS ON PAPER"
Friend of mine found herself in a fit of life's frustrations this past week, and ended up doing the coolest thing. She opened her mouth to say, "You know what I really want?" and continued on a pretty monologue's path, swearing and describing all the things she really wants out of life. I thought we should do the same thing here. Settle into the comments section, and write, "You know what I really want?" and let it rip.
3 comments:
I want to be understood and for others to understand without coloring every situation with their own judgments and fears. I want hearts to heal faster than they do. I want a world where people talk things out instead of fighting, hitting or killing one another.
I want no lies. I want fairness and justice. I want to someday have children who can grow up without fear. I want the hyper-sexualizing of adolescents to stop controlling all advertising and much of media (I'm not some super Christian, I'm kind of agnostic ... but that doesn't change the fact that I'm tired of chauvinism). I want nobody to ever have to be objectified in any way.
I want to be able to understand animals, like understand what they are thinking. I know that's impossible, unless you're maybe Snow White, but it would be cool all the same.
I want a free field full of flowers for every person on the planet, so they can run into it and be alone with nature whenever necessary. And wherever they go, it goes with them.
I want my family and boyfriend to get along.
I want my family and his family to get along.
I want everyone to get along.
I want to be able to feel fulfilled artistically, philosophically, socially, philanthropically, romantically and securely (in a financial way) all at the same time. And know that everyone else is also just as happy. But I know that is impossible.
Oh well, at least I have my health.
This is a great question!
You know what I really want? Palm trees planted between the lanes of my boulevards. The first place that I moved when I left my parents' home for good was along the Gulf coast of Florida, and the first week I was there I mapquested a mall that was in the next town over. I drove there, and the mall was just some big craptastic chain-store consumer orgy of a place, but the drive there was thirty five minutes of salty ocean air and there were palm trees with great big leaves casting shadows on the boulevard the whole way. I lived in one of those ill-concieved, pre-9/11 gated apartment communities that had a pool that was always open and a pond with ducks in it at the bottom of my stairs that I would feed every day when I got home from work.
I want to just once love a street in Chicago, any street, as much as I loved that big-ass four-lane boulevard with the palm trees.
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