23 August 2010
Celebrate With Me. It's My Birthday!
I brought cake.
No, I will not reveal my age, but let's just say that I am far, far, far away from middle-aged. Of course, that midpoint moves further out every year, but we don't need to talk about that. (Hey, Cheryel, we're almost twins!)
When I was a kid, I didn't want to be a novelist.
No, I wanted to be the Bionic Woman. Or a Charlie's Angel. Or an angel with bionic powers.
As I got older, I wanted to be a singer like Olivia Newton John. Or maybe Anne Murray. Or my own twist of Olivia Newton Murray.
Around this time, I was looking to the movies. Wouldn't it be cool to be Princess Leia saving the universe with her choice of hunks--Luke or Hans? Oooh, or maybe a combo-dude like a Hans Skywalker.
A little while later, I enjoyed the stage--from drama to political office. Maybe I'd be a Diva President. Or the President of the Divas.
And now, let's call it a few years later, I am a novelist. I make up my own stories. I can be whomever I want to be, which, thinking on it, was what I was doing all along.
So here's to bionic angels with glorious voices, kick-butt attitudes, and hunky-hunks. I salute you with my icing-covered fork. Mmmm.
How about you? How do your childhood dreams compare with real life?