A few days ago, I decided to go for a run for the first time in two months. Ugh, bad idea. Anyway, back to my point – as I was
running crawling up the hill, it occurred to me how much more bearable exercise in 30-degree heat would be if the people around me would just spontaneously start singing some motivational power ballad and erupt into perfectly-choreographed dance. Yes, there are times when I wish my life was a musical. Jazz hands and all.
Just to clarify, I’m not a fan of High School Musical, nor am I a closet Gleek; however, I sometimes catch myself wishing that my life had a soundtrack. Or even better, that my life was just one big, brassy, show-stopping musical. Not that my life is anywhere near as exciting as Velma Kelly’s or Jean Valjean’s.
I just wish that I could randomly burst into song at any given moment and would be instantly accompanied by an 80-piece orchestra and a chorus of insane vocal harmonies. I wish that I could deal with all of my issues just by singing about them. I wish that the Von Trapp children would miraculously drop out of the trees dressed in curtain-clothes singing ‘Do-Re-Mi’ and nobody would raise an eyebrow. I wish that I could solve a problem like Maria.
Unfortunately though, we don’t live in a world where happy endings, fairytale romance and Bollywood dance numbers are inevitable. Our world is much crueler and certainly not as fabulous. I don’t live on Avenue Q, nor am I the Demon Barber of Fleet Street. I don’t drive around in a Cadillac singing ‘Grease Lighting’ and Billy Flynn is not my lawyer. My best friends are not Timon and Pumba and Mufassa certainly isn’t my father. But it is fun to dream…
I must resist the temptation to quote ‘I Dreamed A Dream from Les Miserables.