Secret dream, secret dream, come true, come true, since I’ve told no one about you!
Okay, well, that little ditty is a lie now since I’m doing the opposite and am basically telling the whole internet about my “secret dream.” And depending on who you ask, some will tell you my dream is to become president, or a world-renowned chef, or the next Tolkien/Jordan/Martin-esque writer of the world.
It’s all a lie, like the cake and the secret cow levels! Okay, the writing one isn’t too far off, but it’s not a secret. I openly wave notebooks and sheets of papers with words on them to people and try to make them read what I wrote. “If you don’t read this poem, you’re a terrible person and I don’t want to be your friend anymore!” always works. I think, I wouldn’t know, I’m not that pushy!
Nope, my secret dream isn’t building a school and education system in that school that I feel should be implemented everywhere; it’s not drawing that comic book I’ve been planning (which is pretty cool, to be honest; I’ll have to talk about that sometime); it isn’t moving to Portland or to Hawaii; it isn’t wanting to get married to a great guy with a huge family and having six or seven kids to get into trouble all the time. Side note: Yes, I’d actually push six or seven or more kids out of my womanly parts if the universe be willing.
Nope, none of that is my secret dream. I’ll give you some hints. They all have something to do with it.
- Masquerading as a man with a reason; my charade is the event of the season; and if I pretend to be a wise man, it surely means that I don’t know
- Smoke on the water and fire in the sky
- Hold the line; love isn’t always on time
- She’ll promise heaven on earth; but don’t believe her
- Shot through the heart; and you’re to blame; darling, you give love a bad name
- I’ve got a black magic woman
Okay, okay, what do any of these song lyrics have to do with it (and if you couldn’t tell, Carry On My Wayward Son is one of my favorite songs)? Everything and nothing.
I’ve grown up to the sounds of many of these songs, most of the time I tried as hard as I could to not listen to this “old crap” my parents favored so much. Especially since my dad was always playing some song or another. Every once in a while, Sweet Home Alabama or Wanted Dead or Alive will come on the radio or my mp3, and I have to stop and think about why in the world someone else is singing my dad’s song. Then I place my palm on my face and say “Stupid, dad’s the one who’s been playing THEIR songs!”
My secret dream is that I want to beat on the drums or play the guitar someday in a band. Preferably to renditions of this “old crap” music that I hold so dearly to my heart nowadays. That would be amazing, and it’s songs like above that make me want to go bang on the drums. So to do something about it, I’m going to teach myself. I have a goal, and it’s gonna happen! Screw the universe, this is something I can actually do; my fertility rate may be crap, I don’t know. I’m not having kids at the moment.
(Also, should you be wondering why I’ve been posting so quickly this week, it’s because tomorrow, I leave for five days to go to camp. Just, ya know, if anyone cares!)