Lately, I've felt dissatisfied, and today I discovered the reason why.
I want to be famous.
I don't need to be a movie star who makes millions of dollars, or a pop-star who shakes it Latin-fusion style on MTV while lip-syncing to songs she couldn't sing worth a damn in real life. But a little bit of notoriety would be nice.
Alright, I'm going to put myself out there and say it. I want to have talent like the girl whose blog I posted earlier today.
I want to be able to sing well enough so that people say, "Hey! She's pretty good. She should sing alone at church."
Maybe I become the "perfect" mom at my daughter's school. "Look at Beth," they would all say. "She really has it together. Did you see how she baked two dozen cookies and still managed to make it to the field trip today? And, she was strutting around in red high heels through the mud without tripping once."
Or maybe, just maybe, I actually write a good novel and a publisher picks it up on the first day. Also, I get a movie deal and they turn my book into a musical, in which I star because my singing makes them faint due to its awesomeness.
I'm not the only one to feel this way. My husband has a reoccurring dream in which he is at Redskins training camp, and an errant ball flies his way. He catches said ball, then throws it back to the coach, who is subsequently so impressed by my husband's throwing arm that he immediately offers him a multi-million dollar contract.
It's not too much to ask. Is it?
Famous dream - 0
Beth - 0
Inability for Beth to reach said dream - 1