1.2 I want, I must, I can.

After giving it a lot of thought, I ended up with these 3 options:

·         What I want to do - the things I’ve always wanted to do but I never went for them or kept postponing.

·         What I must do - to cover my basic needs, which are my obligations or in other words the things that like it or not, I must do (Must: a despicable word indeed).

·         What I can do - Hmmm… Because there are plenty of things that I would love to do but what’s the point if I can’t do them!

Oh! At this point I should add my 4^th option – My midsummer night’s dreams, which includes all those little stuff that are going through my mind and I could easily cite one by one. For example, I’d love to become a violin virtuoso (the fact that I don’t even know how to hold the violin is a tiny insignificant detail). To become a famous ballerina and be invited by the New York City Ballet to perform as Odette in Swan Lake (and I can clearly hear the voices of the audience cheering ‘’Bravo! Amazing!’’- or maybe they’re just the voices in my head?). Another fantasy is winning the Lotto and travel around the world without having to worry about which is going to be the next excuse I have to find for delaying my rent (I think I’ve exhausted all reasonable excuses… next thing, I’m going to use Alzheimer’s decease as an excuse, pretending to forget I even rent an apartment… hm not bad at all, might have to consider that option). It would also be nice if in one of these trips I met Mr. Right. Yeah, the more I think about it, the more it’s growing on me. Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, in the depths of the desert, I can picture myself on a camel (I’ve always wanted to ride a camel, no idea why… I’m so attracted to the idea of sitting on it… is it its hump? Or maybe the spitting factor? Because you can’t actually call it a cute animal!). So, where was I? Right, on my camel, wearing a turban around my head ala Salma Hayek (am I a fashionista or what!), a one shoulder leopard top (sexy is my middle name), a pair of flowy pants and my Manolo Blahnik sandals (it’s my fantasy, I can wear whatever I choose), journeying with my caravan on our way to discover the mysteries of the desert, here he comes! Riding his black horse just like Indiana Jones! He’s dark, muscular, alluring but also dangerous at the same time. He suddenly halts in front of me, I can feel the blood rushing through my veins, my knees are weak, I can feel his stare burning with passion and desire. Alrighty. And then I woke up. The camel turns out to be my crashed little car, my shoulder is freezing and I wish I had put on a damn coat (stupid air-condition is broken again… how original!), my Manolos are actually by Mr. Manolis (the shoemaker around the corner who was kind enough to repair them for me) and of course the dark hunk is none other  than the Pakistani who’s winking at me offering to wash my windscreen for free, while I’ m waiting for the bloody traffic light to turn green and get the hell out of here! I think it’s time to slap myself and get back to reality. Right.

I want. I must. I can and let’s see what happens…