The Fantasy

Picture this:

You wake up and sit up in your bed and look around your studio apartment. It has that vintage-y feel but there are a few modern art pieces and furniture in the mix and it's a nice balance. The scent of freshly brewed coffee fills your nose and your eyes open a little wider. A growl erupts from your stomach and reminds you that you're hungry. After breakfast you stand in front of your giant window, steaming coffee cup in hand, and enjoy the view before you. Ahh, the beautiful, busy, gleaming city of New York. 

Okay, now picture this:

The sun streaming through your open window wakes you up some time in the mid-morning. A light breeze causes your white linen curtains to flutter. You rise from your bed and catch a whiff of the warm, salty air. It's going to be a good day, you know it already. Who needs to get changed? You're good in your shorts and tank top. A few minutes later you take your cup of coffee onto the deck where you lean against the railing and take in the view. The warm sun is on your face, the breeze gently ruffles your hair; everything is peaceful. You're spending the day on the beach, no doubt about it. It is California after all. 

(Oh and there's obviously a man in each fantasy because, umm, duh). 

And finally, this:

Oh, reality. Yeah I live in Canada. You know, the place that I once heard described in a movie as "a wasteland of frozen tundra." Which is wildly untrue, of course, unless it's winter.

Then I'd be inclined to agree because our winters are filled with mountainous piles of snow and movie-worthy ice storms. Don't flip out, I love Canada and I am proud to be Canadian. But the fantasy holds strong in my mind and in my heart. (That sounds borderline barfy, I know). 

And, true to my nature, my fantasies  contradict each other, are completely different life-style wise and both appeal to me equally. Such is my life. 

I'm happy with my life. I am. I love my family and my friends. I love my home and I wish it could be my home forever. But there's always that little nagging part of me that says I belong somewhere else. Not indefinitely but at least for a little bit. I have this thing where I wish I could just get up and go and live somewhere else for a while. Have crazy life experiences somewhere else in the world. Sometimes I'm overtaken by the feeling of wanting to go somewhere else. It's an intense yearning and it makes you feel like you're gonna burst but then it eventually goes away. 

I wish I could find a job that would take me there. I know I'd feel homesick and that I'd miss everyone so much but I really want to do it one day. And I know saying "one day" means it could never happen and that you have to make it happen. I really hope to. One day. Ha. 

I did go to New York this year and it was perfect. It was my second time going but I got more out of it this time. And it definitely quelled the yearning for a bit. I didn't spend nearly enough time there but it gave me my fill; for now. California is my next target. I want to see San Francisco, L.A. and Hollywood and the Viper Room where River Phoenix died. (Extreme sadness). And also the cemeteries where the famous people are buried. (It's not creepy, you pay your respects as a 'thanks for everything', you know?) Obviously I want to see the beaches and all that. It's something you always see in movies or hear about. I'd love to experience it. And plus side? I could totally get a movie studio job, hello!! 

This is also where my past life theory factors in. All right, calm down everyone opposed to reincarnation. I'm not saying I believe in it fully, it's just fun to entertain the idea. And I mean, it would explain a lot. So chill out and go with me on this. There has to be a reason why I have such a connection to these places. I figure that I was born in the late 1800s so that I was a newsie (Ha I know). I died of something rotten. Then I was a flapper lady in the '20s. And I got shot. Gangsters, you know? (Both of those I lived in NYC). Then I was born in 1945 and lived through all the good music of the '50s and '60s. Then I died somehow in the '70s. (Here was California). And then God or the Universe or whoever was like "Okay no more. You need to chill out for twenty years." Then in 1990 I was born in Canada and there you go. Too much? Probably. But so fun to imagine haha. 

Or maybe I was brainwashed by music and movies. No, seriously. Music, movies, books; they're all about transporting you to another place and living vicariously through the characters or the story or whatever. They make you yearn for things that you'e never experienced or places you've never been. I actually read something along those lines while reading about a certain musical group. The author said that their music was special in that it made other people who didn't live in their part of the country feel like they did. They lived vicariously. Same with movies. You see it and you want it. And I do. It's more plausible than the reincarnation theory is it not? 

It's on my bucket list to live in both New York and California for at least six months. I hope that one day I'll be able to do that. If not, I'd settle for month's vacation in each. I just wanna go....

I know that anything is possible if you believe it and that you can do anything you want if you put your mind to it. Bottom line, I have to make this happen. And I really will. And not one day either. I just will.