Hardened Hearts austins-apology  shadowed-secrets  guarding-greatness 
       

My Fantasy Life as a Writer

I have wanted to be a writer for I don't know how long. In junior high school, I remember sitting in my guidance counselor's office taking a career aptitude test. The results: journalist. In high school, I was on the school's paper; had all of my homework assignments kept by the creative writing teacher to be used as examples in other classes. Last week I took one of those "Perfect Career" tests on Facebook. I'm destined to be a writer... and Facebook never lies.

So, I guess really I never had much of a choice. I mean, I never wanted to be President, an astronaut, or veterinarian. I'm so not a girly-girl, so high heels and runways never held much of a hold on my heart. Storylines, characters, and plot outlines... that's what makes me dreamy eyed and tingly.

Imagine it – a life spent curled up with a shawl and a laptop, sitting in a lounge chair on the back porch of a seaside cabin, the sound of soft water pushing up on the beach, a glass of Moscato by my side... mmmmmm.

Ok, that was my fantasy.

In reality, I'm curled up on the couch, a dog farting at my feet, a bottle of beer next to the couch, my neighbor's rockabilly pool party in full swing, and the my kids (18 and 14) asking why I haven't made dinner yet a mere three hours after lunch... uugghh.

The place, setting, and sounds may not be the things my dreams were made of, but the contentment remains the same. It used to be such a plain word, contentment. But even when reality is such a far cry from the fantasy, contentment really is a perfect – my perfect – kind of peace.