Last night I dreamt that I was in a jazz choir directed by Top Chef Season 12 Finalist Dougie from Portland, who also happened to be dating my cousin Maria.
We were performing at a mall, on the second floor, right near the escalator. Unfortunately, the concert got off to a late start and the song I had a solo in—'You Make My Dreams Come True' by Hall & Oates—got cut at the last minute! I was LIVID, but I kept my cool.
And that's it! I woke up halfway through our set.
Fast forward to this evening, and you'll find me in the midst of a mild-to-medium existential crisis. It's a very privileged position to be in—contemplating the universe and my role in it. I should be grateful that I have enough of my immediate boxes ticked (✓Food ✓Water ✓Shelter ✓Candles ✓Reality TV) that my only remaining need is to understand the meaning of life.
Yet, this happens to me too much. At least once a month. The big questions flood my mind and before I know it I'm Googling flights to Thailand, eating kiwis with their peels on and seriously considering deleting my Facebook. Then I picture myself writing a wildly successful memoir about my year off the grid. It's all very indulgent.
Don't worry. This will pass. It always does. I'm not deleting my Facebook any time soon.
TTFN,
Margaret
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| Nose curl smize. |
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