What the fuck do you want to be?-not for halloween you dumbass

October 19, 2009 § Leave a comment

jesusI don’t know what is bringing this on to me, but I am significantly angrier towards life, but let’s call it being fierce because that sounds like I control the way things fly around here. But of course I do not.

I was asked today by a little girl, a lot of numbers below my age-and I won’t tell you how many-of what I wanted to be. Of course I stared at her, and then I had one of those moments where your soul sort of flies out of your body and stares back at you from the ceiling, and you look at yourself and your first reaction is always-wow, I look awful, then you continue to understand the moment where your soul started floating because if you actually have to tell this experience to your shrink [which you will] you have to analyze the words and the reactions correctly [or is that what you pay him to do?]. EITHER WAY, as my soul is floating I yell “whaddup soul” and am immediately surrounded by an intense urge to cry, but of course I didn’t because I didn’t think that this young girl needed a nervous breakdown from someone almost twice as old as she is.

The thing is that no one has asked me this question in a really really really long time, so I got really confused, I was almost prepared to read her the things that I wanted to be by the time I die, but I didn’t think that was very necessary-but it was because when I answered her question “I don’t want to be anything just yet” she was clearly confused. Obviously, someone like me has more than a million thoughts going on inside her head, so many that it has began to make its way into my head even when I’m dancing, and mostly when I’m dancing I only think “lallallalal this is awesome, I am so awesome lalalla” so you can imagine when the insecurities crawl in, it ain’t a pretty picture.

Actually little girl, first I want to make a dance-musical so people can admire me while I am on stage and dancing and being awesome, I want to write a script about living in Turkey, about the kids in Turkey and life in Turkey, then I want to make it an awesome motion picture and win a whole bunch of awards for it, then I want to write a book about that thing that happened to me that we call disappointment, but of course when poets write about themselves it is most vain and not particularly art-with that in mind, I shall transfer it to another level of vanity and rock a novel, probably get some Nobel prizes for that, then I want to write an awesome play-possibly with 5 people in it and make that shit the best thing that you watched live, in the meantime, I want to master tap dancing, as well as the piano and maybe tap dance WHILE playing the piano. I also want to fall in love about 15 more times-at least-[or pretend to fall in love], each love affair immediately after the other so there will hardly be room for me to breathe and mourn-as those can quite harm a person, as I go through my love affairs, I want to rock the canvas and produce some fucked up shit. I want you to see it and cry. Or piss your pants. Or both. I also want to take on a ridiculous role that is actually challenging-not like some Hollywood shit but hardcore, ya know?, and I definitely want to win some awards for my performance, I definitely want to sing on stage with a couple of awesome and ridiculously good looking people and have over-the-top, absurd love affairs with at least 3 celebrities-one of them DEFINITELY HAS TO BE Joseph Gordon-Levitt [even when he had long hair I thought, damn, and you know how I feel about short hair], I probably don’t want to actually physically get pregnant, but I can allow people to create more fabulous, fucked up human beings with my awesome eggs-so long as I don’t really have to be responsible for anything that happens to them-unless they’re really awesome, which they will be because hello?-then I guess I can think about it- I know I care a whole lot about architectural shoes, make up and sequins but I don’t HAVE TO have lots of them, so long as they are available to me and I can return them right after I wear them [except for a few fabulous pieces], if it is absolutely necessary [or if somehow I end up making money-which is definitely not my motivation, contrary to popular belief]  that I make money and lots of it, I will donate all of it after I die to people that want it-and that will be determined by a universally acclaimed competition because there are too many things that I want to help out with but my general disappointment with life is forcing me to cry instead, and finally I just want to be that friend that you call without me calling you first.

So if you know any way that I can accomplish all of these by 2012 [obvsly, because the world will end after than, or soon after] holler at me.


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