My husband and I saw the movie “Julie & Julia” over the weekend and halfway through it I turned to him and said, “That’s me!” Now I’m blogging about how much I’m like Julie Powell and though I was inspired to cook up a few Julia Child recipes, I haven’t quite figured out the purpose of these blurbs.  I could only dream they will become a popular blog that becomes a book that becomes a movie, minus the marital trouble.

How does one invent a good blog? Right now it’s been a creative outlet for me and given something to do in my “free time.” I like turning the little thoughts I have during the day into a paragraph that actually goes from my head to the virtual highways of the internet. My little paragraphs may crash and burn, or more likely simply zoom by into the trash heap of the web, but at least they’ve travelled somewhere.

I miss growing up. It really is true that youth is wasted on the young. But I guess that’s the way it goes and we look forward to rebirth and new life. But then, no, I won’t let myself settle into this home of achy bones and tired skin! Resistance is futile says gravity, time, and bed.

One great regret I have is giving up gymnastics. I really had a talent for it and the body too; all compacted with muscles. It’s unbelievable the amount of strength and skill it takes to perform the tricks gymnasts do. And to think that I had all that skill over ten years ago when I was two-thirds my size and half my age (I haven’t grown much!). I sometimes reminisce about the possibilties, the opportunities, I could have had if I had just pursued what I was good at. And I miss that now too: the physical pursuit. Yes, I am an avid jogger and love to push myself to new distances and times, but oh, to have a young body with boundless energy and no cap on the heights to be reached!

So how does one reclaim that mindset, that youthful perspective? If it is possible.  Well, I actually had wanted to be a ballerina before a gymnast. There are pictures of me tip-toeing around the living room in my tights with arms raised over my head thinking I was the most graceful dancer to be seen. I even took a college ballet class a few years ago being in need of a P.E. credit. And I loved it. All these years and the desire has not faded.

And that, of course, is what many kids are missing: desire.  It is either squelched out by disappointment and unmet needs or smolders out in the cold vacuum of deaf ears.

When I was little, I wanted to be Shirley Temple. In fifth grade my English class had to dress up and perform monologues as different historical figures and so I showed up in my short dress with my hair just out of curlers (you know, the pink, spongy ones that you sleep in) and even pretended to tap dance.

And I was sure, up until being in the shower this morning, that though being a famous child star was out of the rhealm of possibilties at this point, I would someday become a unique, miraculous adult when I grew up.

So here I am at my desk pondering a few things. How did I end up here? When will something better come around?  Is it five o’clock yet?

I agree with parents who tell their children that they be whatever they want when the grow up.  Maybe little Jimbo won’t become president of the United States or even a fireman, but it’s good for his self-esteem that he thinks so.  The problem in this belief is the misconception that because he wants to succeed, he will.

Finding myself sitting at a desk all day, phoning people interested in buying a product I know little about, let alone am able to afford,  I try to remember where my career path ended and the nine-to-five trailer park began.

Local superhero fights big business from her desk with phone and computer.