Before I opened the store, I had fallen into a life, that by my standards was mundane and average. There were still night life and art openings and days spent in the bay areas majestic beaches or mountains. There were still the yearly vacations to a far off exotic land filled with rich new experiences, but more often than not I had slipped into a life that consisted of a mundane routine: Wake up, work, gym, cook dinner, watch T.V., read, sleep, repeat. I got such a huge rush from throwing it all away to risk all my years of hard work and savings to following my dreams. BellJar was conceived and erected. It was such an exciting time. Everyday rang with promise of creative endeavors. The risk was exhilarating, the unknown was a gift of a full life.
Now three years into my dreams, I'm wondering if I'm not somewhat of a thrill junkie. Running the business has become a serious of calculated tasks that at this point feel mundane. The risk feels daunting and the unknown feels like the sinking feeling of responsibility. I dream of giving it all up and running away to Paris. Days filled with rich foods, thick dark coffee and lovely sweet, full wine is what I crave. I want to be seen clomping around in ridiculous high heels and hermes scarves while chain smoking in Paris's uneven streets. I dream of nights filled with leaky old plumbing in small dark apartments leaning precariously over cobblestone alley way's, filled with spotted cats.
I have had this urge since I was old enough to walk. Europe has been a over romanticized dream of mine forever. A dream that forever keeps me moving forward in a life where only I, secretly know, that I am somehow unique, special and different than the rest off the rickety gray souls that board the 7:45 train, daily.
I wonder if I took another leap, and just picked up and left, if my childhood dreams would also become just another task completed and forever filled away as one of life's daily duties. If even Paris could become another road-stop before my real life begins.
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