simple things
Book in Hand: Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury
Song in Mind: We’ve Got Tonight
What I want are simple things. I just dream of finding a comfortable pad all my own. I may be old enough to get out of the house, you see. I would like to strike it on my own. A small place with just enough space for a cute kitchen where I can finally force myself to learn to cook, a cozy enough couch at one corner, modest TV set with cable connection. A small room to fit my bed and a writing desk and a beanbag. And the walls are of pure white to be decorated by shelves and shelves of books, from one wall to the other. I don’t care if it looks like a library. Nor if it’s one hell of a fire hazard. I want books to fill my life. Now that nothing else can take me away from here.
But leaving the house doesn’t mean out of my family’s life. I dream of a job that could get us through this financial slump we’ve been suffering for some years now. I want my Dad to have the luxury of not to work. My Mum the choice to run her own little nursery school with all the help she needs so she can keep herself busy but not get tired that much. They both dream of a modest farm somewhere far from the hubbub of the city. It wouldn’t be anything lavish. It’ll just be plants and stuff. And maybe one horse for my dad since he adores them. I want to be financially capable to help them live longer by funding their needed operations. My Dad’s still up for a triple bypass, you see. And my Mum needs constant check-up because she used to have cancer. I want to set-up a business for my sister, so she would have a place in this crazy world. God, I want to do everything I can to prevent them from going through this… this… challenges we face now. I would move heaven and I would move every mountain on earth if I could, just so they won’t have to be encumbered. But laboring is hard, and times aren’t fair.
And love? I don’t know. I don’t think I want that now. Makes you silly, that nonsense. But if I were to have someone, he doesn’t need to be brilliant anymore. I have had too much disappointments with people who are so talented, but just as self-consumed by the same gift I admire in them. Simple, honest and solid. Maybe that’s my best hope. I mean, we can’t all marry Prince William.
I used to dream of the wild dreams of passion and the extravagant rewards of fame and fortune. I am a child who dreamt of becoming a celebrated actress in Hollywood. Or a famous eccentric playwright and novelist. Or a well-paid artist whose paintings express the very soul of life and of death. I wished all those things. I wished them with all of my heart. But the very same heart is tired now. Am weary. All I wish for now is a moderate life. A complacency that is beyond this never-ending struggle.
Sad, they say, to hear it from someone so young. But young is not an excuse to dream anymore. Dreams, they must come at their own accord. They must be lived. And now, I am bereft of it, save for this. Let it be simple. Let it be true.
Song in Mind: We’ve Got Tonight
What I want are simple things. I just dream of finding a comfortable pad all my own. I may be old enough to get out of the house, you see. I would like to strike it on my own. A small place with just enough space for a cute kitchen where I can finally force myself to learn to cook, a cozy enough couch at one corner, modest TV set with cable connection. A small room to fit my bed and a writing desk and a beanbag. And the walls are of pure white to be decorated by shelves and shelves of books, from one wall to the other. I don’t care if it looks like a library. Nor if it’s one hell of a fire hazard. I want books to fill my life. Now that nothing else can take me away from here.
But leaving the house doesn’t mean out of my family’s life. I dream of a job that could get us through this financial slump we’ve been suffering for some years now. I want my Dad to have the luxury of not to work. My Mum the choice to run her own little nursery school with all the help she needs so she can keep herself busy but not get tired that much. They both dream of a modest farm somewhere far from the hubbub of the city. It wouldn’t be anything lavish. It’ll just be plants and stuff. And maybe one horse for my dad since he adores them. I want to be financially capable to help them live longer by funding their needed operations. My Dad’s still up for a triple bypass, you see. And my Mum needs constant check-up because she used to have cancer. I want to set-up a business for my sister, so she would have a place in this crazy world. God, I want to do everything I can to prevent them from going through this… this… challenges we face now. I would move heaven and I would move every mountain on earth if I could, just so they won’t have to be encumbered. But laboring is hard, and times aren’t fair.
And love? I don’t know. I don’t think I want that now. Makes you silly, that nonsense. But if I were to have someone, he doesn’t need to be brilliant anymore. I have had too much disappointments with people who are so talented, but just as self-consumed by the same gift I admire in them. Simple, honest and solid. Maybe that’s my best hope. I mean, we can’t all marry Prince William.
I used to dream of the wild dreams of passion and the extravagant rewards of fame and fortune. I am a child who dreamt of becoming a celebrated actress in Hollywood. Or a famous eccentric playwright and novelist. Or a well-paid artist whose paintings express the very soul of life and of death. I wished all those things. I wished them with all of my heart. But the very same heart is tired now. Am weary. All I wish for now is a moderate life. A complacency that is beyond this never-ending struggle.
Sad, they say, to hear it from someone so young. But young is not an excuse to dream anymore. Dreams, they must come at their own accord. They must be lived. And now, I am bereft of it, save for this. Let it be simple. Let it be true.
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