So this year in my English class, we’ve read Of Mice And Men by John Steinbeck and The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, two books that I really enjoyed. I figured I’d like Of Mice And Men because I had liked reading The Grapes Of Wrath, also by Steinbeck, the previous year, and I figured I’d like Gatsby because the movie was really great (Off topic, can you believe another year has passed without the phenomenal Leonardo DiCaprio winning an Oscar?!).
Both books have an underlying theme about the elusive American Dream, what it once was and what it has become. Which brings me to this post: what is my American Dream? Well for one, to be British. Okay, I’m kidding. (Mostly.)
But seriously, what do I want out of life? That’s a good question. To publish a book, for one example. An original book, that is. NOT fan fiction. Being a singer/actor/comedian, some form of entertainer, is another. Everyone tells me I’m going to be a professional singer or a Broadway actress someday, but…I have trouble actually believing them. I’m good, I’ll allow, but I’m no Idina Menzel. I could never reach that level of skill or fame.
And of course, I’d dearly like to have a loving husband/partner. (I already have one picked out, ha ha.) And maybe children, though I don’t know. I don’t think I’d make a very good mother. I’m too easily distracted. (I’m supposed to be writing an essay for aforementioned English class right now, actually.)
The boy. That’s what I want the most. More than fame or fortune, I want the boy. Is that strange? Probably. Or just typically adolescent.
So, to marry the man I love, and possibly be a rock star and/or acclaimed author. That’s about it. Oh, and of course my cat. Gotta have my Emma-boo! >^..^<
Love and success. That’s not wanting so much, right? I don’t know. Just needed to get this out of my system. Well, thank you for reading my random thoughts. Better get back to that essay now. Ciao for now!