Additional greatness features

August 22, 2006 at 12:37 am (Bloom Status: Sideways, Bloom Status: Upward)

11.  Foreign languages!  Oh, how I speak them.  I speak, in my dream of greatness: French, Italian, Spanish, Finnish, German and Russian.  Japanese, in my dream of greatness, is the language that I talk about learning one day.  For, dude, one cannot speak them all.

jeanne moreau     sophia loren

akira kurosawa's dreams

12.  I suppose I better learn how to ride a bike.  Naah.  That’s nowhere in my dream.  But swimming!  And running!  (I know how to run already.)  I have actual dream-dreams, like nighttime dreams, wherein I’m either an ultra-buoyant, swift, effortless motherfucker of a swimmer or I am a crazy-light-on-my-feet nearly-flying cheetah runner.  Whooooooosh, splaaaaaaash, whoooooooooooomp, whooooooooooomp.  Yes, so those are good for my dream of greatness.  Also, yoga.  Ba-doing!  I’m like a rooted bendy yoga arrow.

13.  Always a great haircut in my dream of greatness.

14.  My teeth are whiter, and I don’t have this one side of my front teeth that sort of aims outward.  I call them my friendly country horse teeth.  Nobody can see this problem but me, but it’s a hillbilly feeling that is totally gone in my dream of greatness.

15. I am a firm, calm demander of justice in my dream, in situations ranging from trivial to grave.  I am like H & R Block, in that when I speak, people listen.

16. I’m psychic in my dream of greatness, but it never scares me.  Meditation never scares me either.  My psychic information comes gently, like pouring watermelon juice out of a pitcher into a small nice glass.  The beginning of a meditation session feels like a visit to a purple-walled spa, and the middle is like riding a glass elevator up to the top floor of the Mall of the Gods, which is this blinding white sparkly light place that’s not blinding at all, wherein I can talk to Ganesha or Jesus or Buddha or the Divine Mother or Green Tara or whomever I find wandering around up there, or my higher self, or wait, I am my higher self up there, so I get to feel what that feels like.  Or it’s white but quiet, or dark purple and quiet, but a quiet that’s not frightening.  Not quiet that feels like some kind of ambushy boogieman is behind me ready to get me.  Quiet like the finest spa treatment of all, one that allows every old weird pain and constricting idea to fall out of me, fooop, and not readhere to me once I return to daily life.  Then it’s down through the purple-walled spa again for a spell, and then I’m back.

17.  I can use a sewing machine! I design clothes.  I design chic, folksy, flattering dresses that look like a cross between something French and something Scandinavian.  I just make them for myself, but then people start clamoring for them, so I make and sell a few which become these elusive, desirable items like Faberge eggs or somesuch.  Also I make modern, charming quilts, and I sell them, too.  And give a bazillion of them to people as gifts.

18.  I’m neat and tidy and organized in this INCREDIBLE PIPE DREAM* of greatness.  I don’t live in a world of weird, topply piles of books, cushions, unopened mail and used bibs.  You could pop by my house any time of day for a sudden photo shoot and I’d be like, oh, hello, come on in.  Not like now, wherein if you’re dropping by my house for five minutes to say hi, I would prefer a week’s notice.

* I like how it appears that this dream of neatness seems so much more far-fetched to me than the trip to the top floor of the Mall of the Gods, so much more far-fetched even than enlightenment.  Wow.  I must be one deeply sloppy bastard.

************

Today we took my son for his first shots.  HORRIBLE.  And the doctor looked at his eczema again, and suggested that I give up dairy and see if it helps.  So I’m suddenly sort of vegan.  Vegan except for eggs.  So, that solves my ice cream problem!  Except when I went grocery shopping after Finn’s appointment, I was like, I better buy a bunch of Soy Delicious and Tofutti Cuties.  I am constitutionally unable to visit deprivation upon myself.  It will never happen.  Deprivation, if it must be visited on me, must be visited on me by forces beyond my control.   Also, I bought myself crayons, markers and a small pad of paper, so I can start drawing my dream of greatness.  A-ha!  Ha HA!  I am bounding forward on my path like a nighttime dream cheetah!

Bloom Status: A skosh upwards, a little sideways. I only ate one Tofutti Cutie.  That can’t possibly merit a full-on downward.  Yeah, screw that.  Upwards and sideways.

green tara

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2 Comments

  1. la Ketch said,

    tina,
    i think you need to pick up the phone
    and call yourself
    and forgive yourself
    for eating that second toffuti cutie bar.
    because we all know you ate another one after you posted this entry.
    they are so little.
    dial number one baby!
    love,
    la ketch
    p.s. one woman show! one woman show! in english!

  2. Heidi said,

    Tofutti Cuties have no calories. Eat as many as you want really. Actually, please save one for me because I’M COMING OVER THERE! I can’t wait! I can’t freaking wait!

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