Being a bit of a dreamer makes me somewhat more susceptible to disappointment. I just can't help but imagine the best outcome for every situation and somehow, convince myself that it's the only possibility. On the other hand, I know there's also major positives to having the ability to dream big. For example if you don't know what you want most out of life, how can you expect to get it?
My first real disappointment came in June 2012 when I achieved my goal of visiting New York City. For years I wanted to experience the craziness and endless possibilities the city had to offer. So much so, that I became obsessed with shows like How I Met Your Mother and Gossip Girl. Epic fail bro.
Not only was I devastated to discover that McLaren's bar is actually called McGee's in real life, I completely forgot to expect that HIMYM was filmed in L.A. like almost everything else outside of Bollywood. After eventually discovering that basic piece of trivia, I set my sights on a real life Gossip Girl experience... don't hate me, I was a 20 year old girl. What more can you expect?
Eighteen months later I arrived at JFK and was greeted by many shady looking characters while I waited for my then-boyfriend to pick me up. I should clarify: I'm not one of those internet dating types, nor do I get involved with people in other countries. He was Australian and had flown over before me to see more of America with his friend. My point is, from the minute I stepped off the plane, things weren't as I had imagined.
Sorry but I have to interrupt this story to share a super awkward experience with you. As I'm writing this, I'm sitting on my balcony. In the apartment building next door, there's a group of people singing a terrible rendition of Pump up the Jam... you know, that old school 90s hit. There's quite a lot of shrieking involved. I feel really embarrassed for them. Anyway...
Going to New York with the expectation of having an experience similar to Serena van der Woodsen's life was obviously a very naive thing to do. Nevertheless, somehow I'd convinced myself I was stepping into a magical fairy tail when I was actually entering one of the scariest places a germophobe can visit in a first world country.
While I did enjoy my trip, the experience taught me that it was time to separate my dreaming from my real life, which I managed to do. Then this week I found myself living a life I had wanted but never thought possible: living in New Farm by myself, with a job I enjoy, driving an Alfa Romeo. Throw in my own TV show, a French boyfriend and a yacht off the coast of Cannes and that's my life complete.
Before reaching them, my aspirations of going to New York, living where I do and having one of my dream cars all seemed as ridiculous and impossible as the goals I'm yet to achieve. The scenario I'm currently living has convinced me to once again, aim for my wildest dreams.
Then I came across the very real possibility of encountering a hot French boy... My best friend just moved into a new place and according to the real estate agent, a hot, single French guy in his mid-twenties lives next door. I guess time will tell weather or not my dreaming is a help or hinderance.