|The nine Greek Muses. Wouldn’t it be divine to be a muse?|
Ed. Note: Welcome to the musings of my great friend, D. A., of The Daily Plate of Crazy. She is, without question, one of the most talented writers in the blogosphere. She also has a brilliantly fascinating mind that doesn’t necessarily follow straight lines. She’s too creative for the banal.
Ah, the theme of reinvention. It’s a good one, and we can relate, though my preference is for the term evolution. Whatever you may call it, surely dreaming is part of the process – leaning back (or settling in), and letting loose your imagination, bearing your more brazen visionary self (who wants out), and picturing your life as you’d design it if you could.
For some of us, this includes contemplating all the elements of what might come up next – including your dream job – if you dared to create it. You’re never too old to dream, right?
Recently, trying to refocus my goals and map out the next months, I took some time allowing my mind to wander – not forcing, not neatening, but permitting items to float in and out at will.
I thought it might be fun to share those day dreams, that exercise, those images – some serious and others silly, that remind me how I love to spend my time. And wouldn’t it be lovely if someone actually paid for that?
|Monsieur Louboutin’s signature red-soled shoes.|
The first visual I had? No surprise here. Monsieur Christian Louboutin’s personal muse! Eh oui, I could model his shoes. I would happily lend my tootsies to anything up to 4” in height, and proudly promenade in those stunningly soled treasures. Sadly – bonjour tristesse – M. Louboutin has yet to respond to my request for adoption that dates to a few years back. If he does not wish me to be an official member of the family, perhaps he would consider other options?
Might there be a French Shoe Board? You know. Like the Milk Board and the Cheese Board. No, not that kind of cheese board, offered to friends of an evening with a glorious selection of hard and soft delights for the palate. But some sort of National Council for Chaussure Arts. Wouldn’t I make the ideal marketing manager? Or couldn’t I at least tweet about feet? Offer Public Relations on High Heel Rotations?
Another idea that popped into my head was more of a surprise, at least to me. It was a factor rather than a set of tasks, and while the wanderlust that was a huge part of my life from my teens through my thirties has since abated – practicalities of children and all that – the idea of being on the move again was present.
I attribute this to a recent trip to one of my favorite cities to see my son graduate from college – Boston. It’s a gorgeous, bustling, and historic city. Not only did the change of scenery do me good, but when flights were cancelled and delays occurred, I found myself lodged for an extra night in a stunning suite, thanks to a kindly hotelier.
And who isn’t perked up immeasurably by kindness – and beautiful design?
What has this to do with a dream job?
I’ve been sitting on my derriere in one place for too long. A change of locale may not be out of the question, and this particular city is one I had ruled out long ago due to long winters and mega-mountains of snow. But perhaps I should be more open-minded about environments that suit – at least in my dreaming. Who would have dreamed I’d be staying in a suite for a night, mooning over every elegant detail and especially in love with the fireplace, the geometric fabrics, and my very own sliding door?
What else popped into my mind in this ongoing visioning exercise?
French patisserie and Belgian chocolate! Not the ordinary bakery or épicerie variety of either, but the specialized, sumptuous, seductive and seriously addictive crème-filled goodies of French folly and velveteen “pralines” of the sort I indulged in when I lived my more routinely European life.
Might I find my way to an offbeat path of just desserts? Some facility to add pastry and cakes and other sweets to my dream endeavors? Do I simply want to eat as much as I want and whatever I want – without gaining a pound (or developing diabetes), or does this momentary revelation indicate the need to open a café lined with books (of course), decorated with designer shoes (naturellement), featuring specialty desserts and a spot suitable for gatherings of writers and artists – or anyone who loves Prada, Vivier, Choo, and you-know-who-else?
Any angel investors in the crowd? I’ll dig up the artists and poets, if a few others can provide the fondant and funding.
By the way, have you ever actually worked the job of your dreams? If you’re ready for a change, would you close your eyes and see what comes to mind?
Another thought that bubbled up was children, in keeping with a desire to give back. I admit there is an element of the ridiculous in any such consideration, with a touch of the sublime. After all, it’s still quite recent that I was dragging through raising my sons onmy own. Don’t get me wrong – I adore my kids – but the last two years before my younger headed to college about knocked the stuffing out of me. Perhaps this is why I feel a need to fill up on éclairs, palmiers, and pralines?
Yet despite the last years, I’m energized by four and five-year olds, and equally – (am I masochistic?) – by teenagers. They keep us young with their wonder, their creativity, their innate appreciation. They keep us grounded and remind us what is truly important.
Might children or teens play into the job of my dreams?
As a writer – my passion since, well… always… perhaps my next undertaking should be a book on shoes? Or using these artful goodies-of-my-heart as a means to teach something? Life lessons encapsulated in a series of ballet flats and kitten heels and nose bleed platforms? Wait. Scratch the nose bleed platforms. You know I’m very picky about my pumps and peep-toes. I’ll take a graceful heel instead, from Kate Spade, from Stewart Weitzman, or the Maestro, Monsieur Louboutin.
Incidentally, not long after this exercise, my 21-year old had a few suggestions. They incorporate writing and high school kids. Can I make something of that – with or without my fashion accessories, or bribing them with baguettes and bon-bons?
These days – yes, as I evolve again – I’m searching for my “place” in the scheme of things, a woman’s place in a way, feeling all the confidence of my years and the constraining realities as well, still insistent on fighting the good fight and, where possible, eliminating obstacles. Not just for me, but in my own small way, through words, for all of us.
What I do with this latest transitional state, and specifically with these daydreams, I’m not entirely sure. But the mélange of past, present, and imaginary options – however silly or whimsical – remind me who I am, what I love, and how much remains ahead – for those delectable and creative next chapters.
As for the mille feuilles and tartes aux pommes and chocolate so heavenly as to make the gods weep? Well, I suspect I would nibble up all the profits. Maybe I’d best reconsider writing that book on shoes after all…
And what about you? How do you picture your dream life and your dream job?