Only a Dream

"At the Half Note" is an online journal that does not paint a complete picture of my daily life or who I am. It's a collage that I piece together, that honestly expresses how I see the world, shares entertaining exchanges with my family and friends, and sometimes, though not often, reveals my pain and personal struggles. But regardless of how things may appear within the context of this sometimes carefully crafted collage, my life is very real. It is not a dream and I am certainly not a dream girl. I can’t be, because dream girls only live in dreams, and last time I checked, I was wide-awake.

A man can look at a picture of me posted here on the blog. He may decide that my eyes are saying something, revealing something, or holding something back. But in a picture, I am captured in a still moment. In a picture I do not speak my mind, or have an itch, or blow my nose. In a picture I am suspended in a space where a person looking at it can make up his own story about me, who he thinks I am, or rather, what he wishes me to be.

A man who doesn’t know me can look at the pictures on the blog and decide whatever he wants to about me. He may see that I love my child or that I listen to jazz. He may notice that politically I lean far to the left, or that I am inspired by travel. He can look at my picture and paint his own picture of me, but although it may resemble who I am, it won’t be an exact replica.

When I write on my blog I write the truth, but as my mother said, I write from the best part of myself. Most of the time I pick out the beautiful moments in my day, because frankly, I’m not interested in reliving my arguments with Annie, the months I was in pain after my horseback riding accident or the crappy plane ride back from Spain. When I sit down to write, I reflect on the funny moments with my child, the time I hiked in the Catskill Mountains after a big snow, or the peaceful plane ride to Spain when I watched the sunrise over Portugal and Lisbon.

Jazz and Greenwich Village do not make up my complete experience, but unless I can find an entertaining angle, I assure you, I’ll reflect little on Midtown and Muzak.

I paint a picture of my life here at The Half Note. It’s fresh coffee and clean dishes; it’s the wonder of a new country and the awesome beauty of a hawk in flight. It’s the dreams that are real, but it’s not all of it, it’s not all of me.

I am often impatient with my child and critical of strangers. My car is littered with Italian breadcrumbs and cardboard coffee cups.

It’s the reality in the dream, the dream that is this life that we all, in our own way, do our best to make sense of, enjoy and embrace.

I am not a dream girl, I am a very real woman. I have dirty dishes... I have a sink full.