Oh but how I want my life to be glittering and pretty like I see it in my head. What's that supposed to mean, you say? It means that I see things all glowing and essentially perfect in my future, but my day to day is not anything like that.
A few days ago I got an offer to start my own little practice of sorts. I could do some estate planning and it might make me a little cash. I then start into the fantasy. It goes something like this. Right away I get ten clients and make some wills and such, and then I have enough cash in a month so that I can open up a cute little office, with hardwood floors and a fluffy white rug whereupon sits my desk. And my desk, oh it is amazing, is a large piece of glass or maybe an old, retooled and antiqued door that sits on silver saw horses. My chair is a big, comfy, white leather high back, and it sits on rollers and rolls all around. Or maybe it is more traditional and just has four legs and big cushy arm rests. Behind me are my bookshelves, the square six-by-six kind from Ikea, and they come together at the corner. I think they are white, too. Yes, I think that is best. Oh, and did I tell you how the walls are exposed brick? Because they are, and I have lots and lots of really cool photos taken by Kevin Miller. They are bright and colorful and frameless. But most importantly, I have a Mac sitting on my desk because I'm a Mac, make no mistake about it.
I have about twenty clients on average a month, and I'm doing so well that soon I can afford a little apartment for myself, my car is paid off in six months, and I'm saving for a down payment on a house. And the wonder of it all...I still have time to write my novel. So when I'm done planning estates, I'm writing and writing. I slip off my shoes and curl up on the white leather sofa...the one that my heart has been longing for from Restoration Hardware...and pull out my lap top. I look up at my funky Ikea lighting and smile to myself at my clever taste in design, and I write to my little heart's content.
Yes that is my sparkly, shiny little day dream. When in reality I know that I'd have to go out and drum up business and really and truly I am no salesperson and not at all entrepreneurial. I mean, it could go off like gang busters, and I could find myself happily ensconced in my ideal little office. Maybe I could find a partner and an assistant so that I didn't get too lonely, and we'd have lunch and laugh and laugh about all sorts of things.
Why can't my life look like it does in my daydreams?
No comments:
Post a Comment