I decided that I want to be discovered. I know. This sounds absolutely insane. But it is decided. That is what I want to with my life. I want to be discovered. I can go on Broadway and sing sad songs and learn how to dance and be told that I am wonderful. And after that I will become a famous playwright.
This implies so many tantalizing possibilities.
1- I don't have to hunt for a job! When your discovered, the job finds you. You just have to sit at some corner street cafe and look pretty. I can do that... Maybe.
2- I don't have to teach for the rest of my life.
3- I will have enough funds that I will never have to go to Wal-mart again. Enough said.
I explained this urge to David the other day. He attempted to satisfy me by making me stand next to a wall while he walked around the corner. Then he'd say, "You're perfect! You've been discovered." It made me smile.
Maybe I have had way too much Roadshow for the past month. That's the only way to explain this bizarre desire. If I am not thinking about student teaching, it's all about Roadshow. It's gotten to the point that yesterday at dinner I was talking about it yet again, and David said, "Do you remember that there was a time in our lives when we didn't talk about the Roadshow?" Sad. I can't remember.
I think I must have low self-esteem. I need other people to tell me that I am wonderful to feel valued.
This is a sad confession. I've always wanted to be a confidant, self-asserted individual. I don't want to have to rely on what other people say to feel good about myself. I just want to by myself. I probably wouldn't even like being a performer. The only thing I can play on a guitar is "Jet Plane" and the only play I've been in was Fiddler on the Roof. I was random mama Jew number 2.
So maybe being discovered isn't the answer. But it won't prevent me from sitting at a corner cafe for a few hours, just in case.