The holidays are upon us and the end of the year is fast approaching. I rarely take time to make resolutions because I know I am weak and will break them the first chance I get. I have decided instead to make wishes for the New Year. Like making resolutions, I rarely allow myself to dream … anymore.
Life has gotten in the way of wishful thinking. I don’t have time, and I just get depressed when I do make wishes. So feel my distress as I leave my comfort zone to write this wishlist for the new year. I’ll present them in no specific order, because order is also something that is elusive for me since having a child. My life is chaos, and nothing about my son’s adorable face will change that.
When I decided to become an English major in college, I wish someone would have smacked me and said, “No!” That isn’t my wish. My wish is that my student loans are forgiven for reasons of insanity (for spending too many years and too much money studying something that permanently relegates me to the status of “adjunct,” aka “person with no job security and no benefits”) and youthful drug use, because something had to cause me to ignore practicality and choose a career with a limited outcome.
Thanks to my degrees, I can dream of being a real writer like the majority of English professors. LEO aside, I do realize I am lazy and don’t spend enough time writing, so that if I were dreaming of being a writer, I’d have material to submit to a publisher.
Next, I wish for the return of the Republican Party to people who think and work for the country we live in. Not because I care about Republicans; I do not. I want Mitch McConnell sent packing to Fox News with the other willfully imbecilic members of his party. Yet, I feel that if we have to live in this two-party climate, I wish the one not of my own persuasion would at least be thoughtful and interested in a better life for its citizens.
More realistically, I wish for a new house. We live in a two-bedroom brownstone-style house. It was crowded with my husband and me living here with our book, movie and music collections, but adding a child with the trappings of babyhood and impending toddlerhood creates a clutter situation much like an episode of “Hoarders.” There are no more creative-space tricks that will make the house comfortable. Further, it would be nice if the kid had his own room; then my husband and I could do things that were more adult, like watch Netflix and sleep. The problem with this wish stems from wish No. 1.
My final two are lighthearted and perhaps less cynical.
After a new house, I wish I had permanent front-row seats to every concert that comes through town. Not because I need to be close to the performers. I do like to see a show close-up, but I want seats near the stage because often that means I won’t have to use the stairs, which gives me license to wear ridiculous and high heels.
I scored a free ticket to Justin Timberlake from my sister. To dinner before the show, I wore an insane pair of Dolce Vita wedges that in no way could I have worn and survived the standing, dancing or walking at the show. One rock, no matter how small, would have been the difference between a fun night and a trip to the ER. I know that front-row seats do not mean I won’t have to walk. Good seats would make wearing the crazy shoes worth it because … never mind. I’m trying to stretch the logic when all I want are good seats and crazy shoes — mostly crazy shoes.
Finally, I like my students until I begin to read papers. Then I realize they have heard nothing I’ve said and have done the exact opposite of what I’ve told them. A substitute grader would allow me to live in the fantasy that my students are always the witty, intelligent creatures filling the desks each day. I wish for someone else to grade. There. I said it.
I’m sure there are other wishes I might have — a car with less recalls, Beyonce’s figure and bank account — but for now, these will have to do. I’m excited 2014 will bring something new. I’m keeping my eyes peeled for greatness.