When I was 8, I wanted to be a published writer. I remember very distinctly. I had grand plans. I wanted to see my face in Barnes and Noble. I wanted to sit at a table for 3 hours and sign books all day and shake hands. As I grew up I knew that I would have a finished book written during Sophomore year of college and I would have it published in the summer between Sophomore and Junior year. Very specific.
So why don't I write a book?
"I'm not a good story teller," I sigh.
"Writing a book is hard," I moan.
"Nobody seems to read books anymore", says I.
And so my 8 year-old self would cry. So many big dreams dashed by, really, lack of effort. I didn't know I'd grow up to be so lazy.
But I have hope.
I've only gone through a year of college, so.... the rest of my life is my Sophomore year. I have all the time in the world to achieve this goal of mine.
What makes you forget to eat and poop?
Strange question, but I have an answer to that one. Reading.
I used to read while doing everything. One hand was forever occupied as a child. I'd eat with a book. I'd read instead of sleeping. I showered with a book. I couldn't poop without a book - I can tell you that for a fact. Felt like a waste of time. I fondly remember running around the house looking for the right book before I needed to poop. Dancing in front of the bookcase. Kind of reminds me of how my dog won't poop unless he finds the right smell to occupy himself with. As a kid, reading was everything to me. I used to read books while doing my homework and stash them in this roll-out drawer for a keyboard on my desk so that I could hide them if my mom ever came to check on me. When I had to practice piano competitions as a kid, I'd prop the book next to my music and practice one hand while using the other to keep the pages open.
There was some kind of magic in books to me, about being in another world, tied to these people and their lives... a void that TV tries to fill now, day in and day out. Not good. I love learning about people and places, how they live their lives, their emotions and their goals, their needs and dislikes. I love the human psyche, I get caught up in wondering what people want from their lives and how they go about fulfilling those needs. I'm my own psychological experiment, I suppose.
So I guess I have a passion for people, and helping them realize and reach their goals. Like a life coach?
If you knew you were going to die one year from today, what would you do and how would you want to be remembered?
I answered a question previously that touched upon my fear of death. I think it was something along the lines of, "What would you do if you knew you were never going to die?" I had answered: take more time to do things.
Well this is the opposite question, and creates that same environment of ease in me, because, if I knew when I was going to die, I could plan things accordingly. I would travel and meet people and write about food and culture and live an eclectic life of rich experiences.
If I had people gathered at my funeral, I'd want them to remember loving me. In life, I feel as though I want people to remember me as smart and pretty, but I realize these are not the things that set me apart, and are shallow things to be remembered by. I want to be remembered as accepting, loving, cheerful, helpful, cultured, clever and wise. I want them to have a connection to me in the way that people who understand life do. I want them to pray for my free spirit and feel my light burning in their lives brighter than ever. I want to touch people's lives and help them. I want to dance and pray and eat and love and build and sing and be adored by the people who know me for who I truly am.
Living in Los Angeles takes these visions of love and twists them into a weak goal of what I truly desire. I don't need to be famous, I don't need to have fans. I only wish to live in a large house full of memories of love and with those who share those memories with me.
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