If I had to do it over again. . .

Hey, I just found this in my journal.  I remember writing it, but I don’t remember when.  Guess it’s time to set it free.  It’s a bit of Matrix thinking!

If I had it to do all over again, maybe I’d take the blue pill; I’d choose the illusion.

I’ll get a job in a fancy office where I could wear pencil thin skirts and silk blouses.  I won’t date artists or hang out with musicians.  When that ivy-leagued-educated homeless man knocks on my door, I won’t let him in.  I won’t stay at work after hours just to talk Buddhism with the custodian.  I’ll be a good girl and I’ll never miss mass.  I’ll join the Junior League and raise money for the Opera Guild.  I’ll wear high heeled shoes and beaded gowns to their fund raisers.  I’ll go to San Francisco to shop because the stores in the valley don’t have the latest designer fashions.  I’ll have 2.5 children and I’ll send them to be educated by the Jesuits.  And I won’t worry about anything.  Ever.

And then one day, maybe I’ll miss my appointment at the manicurist.  I’ll decide to grow my hair down to my waist.  I’ll stop shaving my legs, even during swimsuit season, and maybe I won’t even wear a swimsuit.  I’ll think about taking a needlepoint class, then decide to take a poetry writing class instead.  I’ll start writing on the backs of envelopes and grocery lists, and then I’ll go out and buy rolls of butcher paper to scribble on, and I’ll write and write and write and write, and I’ll wake up and realize I’ve been sleeping for too long, and I’ll write on the walls and the sidewalks and I’ll summon the dreamers and the crazy beautiful wounded companions who’ve been looking for me all along, sure they were supposed to meet me here, on this planet, on this date, at this hour, and when they see me they’ll say, “Oh, there you are.  You’re just in time.”