Dreaming softly

[bonny_kate]

Recently, Charis wrote about what she would do if she didn't worry at all about societal expectations. Now, I don't think I worry very much about what society thinks; I wear my hair curly to remind myself that I don't really care. I watch geeky shows like Buffy and Dr. Who, and generally embrace the geekiness. But in any case, Charis' post started me thinking. What would I do if I didn't care at all about societal expectations, if I had no obligations or debt?

I would fly my friends who I've never met out to California. No, better than that, I'd go on road trips to visit my friends I've never met.

I'd build a house in the green, green trees with little white blossoms in the spring, with a spiral staircase, and it would look like Lothlorien, not the Lothlorien of the movie, but the one that I see in my mind.

I'd dance every time it rained, and if it didn't rain enough, I'd turn on the sprinklers and dance on the grass.

I would sing every song whenever I felt like it, off key, and loud.

I'd plant my roof with wildflowers and grass, so it would wave gently in the breeze.

I'd fly to Greece and live there a year, and live on nothing, and take vacations to Italy.

I would wear costumes, Regency, Renaissance and whatnot just because I wanted to. I'd wear them grocery shopping, or to the movies, or to the mall.

I'd quit my job tomorrow, and leave my resignation on a Post-it.

I'd have a house with no closets, only wardrobes, and one would have a looking glass in the door.

I'd talk to trees as often as I saw one that looked friendly.

I would open up a little theater, and put on amateur Shakespeare and obscure little plays. It would have a real curtain, and an actual backstage.

I'd skip more.

I would have steampunk picnics in the park.

I'd build myself a little English cottage, with a little English garden, and roses rioting up the walls. It would be small, and cosy, and always full of light. It would overflow with books, not just in a little library, but spilling out into every room in optimistic, untidy heaps and strange piles on awkward shelves. I'd buy more books, for the shelves under the stairs (there would be stairs, and a bit of a tower), and for every room in the house.

Comments

[charismitaine.livejournal.com]

Ooh, I would happily leap into all of those things with you! (and join you on the road trip).

And for you:

For Emily, Wherever I May Find Her

7 o'clock news/Silent Night

A Hazy Shade of Winter

A Poem on the Underground Wall

Red Rubber Ball

A Church is Burning

You Don't Know Where Your Interest Lies

Comfort and Joy

Mrs. Robinson

Bookends

Overs

A Most Peculiar Man

Bye, Bye, Love

The Boxer

Why Don't You Write Me

So long, Frank Lloyd Wright

Song for the Asking

Cecilia

Bridge Over Troubled Water

The Only Living Boy in New York