Sometimes, I have these moments when I feel like I’ve got it all figured out.
I was browsing Craigslist, and came across an ad for freelance writers in Reston. After closer investigation, I learned that it was for an online news website that will launch in August and is in need of freelance writers for all kinds of stories.
Five hours later, Matt came over and opened the front door into what was “Angie’s Reality” and into the “Angie’s Land of Maximization Dreamworld” where I have it all figured out. I’m surprised he didn’t hear the swirly, shimmery music or notice the fog and glitter seeping out of the keyhole. I showed him the online ad, and patiently waited for his reasonable, practical reaction. Too late for reason; reason left on a glittered breeze four and a half hours ago.
“Just think! I could write concert reviews and maybe they’d even get us free tickets or press passes and we could go to restaurants for discounted prices and we’d be the hippest Reston couple out there because we’d be where all the action was happening and I’d get so much better at writing or at least faster at it and I could interview people for profile writing and maybe even do some travel writing – I could write about all the great road trips we’ve taken and how they’re easily accessible from Reston and then we could feel it out for our little adventure-planning business idea!!!”
<huge, dazzling smile sans breathing>
Matt smiles patiently, waiting for his turn to talk, knowing that it is not yet upon him.
And here was the eureka! moment:
“I mean, these people with these cool jobs out there that everyone is always so envious of? They have them because they simply figured out that they wanted them and asked for them.”
(Did you hear the trumpets? I’m pretty sure I heard trumpets.)
Matt gave his kind, plausible blessing of my enthusiasm, reminds me of the comforting fact that this job will not, in fact, be the sole means for putting food on the table, and braces himself for more animated babble.
“The worst that could happen is they say no,” I say. “Oh, but I would be so thrilled if they said yes! Maybe I could even write a weekly column, and…” Matt kisses me, perhaps the only way to get me to stop talking. It works, temporarily.
Two weeks later, I am a bit foggy on my interpretation of my royal declaration of life. According to yours truly, all we apparently have to do is ask for something and we get it. Sure, we have to be excited about it, but excitement apparently outweighs skills or preparation.
So the next question is, “What else have I asked for and received in life to prove that my mumbo-jumbo is true?”
I certainly don’t remember excitedly asking specifically for a wonderful guy to share my life with who consistently looks out for me and considerately collaborates on happiness. However, during my previous relationship, I do remember wishing and hoping with all my being that there was more out there to hope for, if I could be brave enough to consider it.
I do remember when I decided that the only job in the world with my name on it would be teaching elementary school music. Even though I went through a brief period of doubt in college, mostly a lower-confidence phase, I can classify it as an “I asked, and I got” experience.
Since I have not yet heard anything from the writing job prospect, I have moved on to other creatively patient distractions. I’m in search of some inspiring quotes to adorn a paintable mirror in my house, and I came across a Rumi poem that is currently the leading candidate:
“Let yourself be silently drawn by the stronger pull of what you really love.”
(I’m positive I heard trumpets. Four hundred of them, in three-octave harmony. Wait, it says “silently drawn”. Damn.)
So maybe it’s Rumi that has it all figured out. But I choose to think I was close.
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