My Personal Goals

 

Since birth, they all want to know: what are your goals? It's pretty simple when you're a baby. A nice bottle of formula. A nice clean diaper. A nice nap. It's pretty simple when you're a toddler, too.  A nice PB&J. A nice glass of milk. A nice run through the sprinklers. Once you hit school, the goal thing gets trickier. A nice teacher who doesn't humiliate you daily. A nice game of tether ball. A nice bike with 10 speeds, but five will do. By high school, goals take on a life of their own.  A nice group of friends who tell you your ass doesn't look big in those high-waisted jeans. A nice boyfriend who understands that Laura Nyro comes first. A nice high school graduation where the guy in back of you doesn't puke his guts out, because he's sh*t-faced. A nice college to attend. A nice professor who lets you pass Astronomy, even though you couldn't tell a supernova from a black hole. A nice part-time job where they don't fire you for talking to friends who stop by to say hi. A nice diploma. 

Dear God. It never ends. A nice apartment. A nice full-time job where they don't fire you for asking that prick nicely not to smoke a cigar, for chrissakes. A nice wedding. A nice marriage. A nice career.  A nice couple of kids. A nice temple that doesn't expect you to speak Hebrew. A nice house that doesn't crumble in an earthquake. A nice bunch of neighbors you don't have to report. A nicer house.  A nicer everything. Let's face it. Goals are exhausting. These days, my personal goals are pretty simple. Scaled-back. Downsized. More humble. More in the moment. More Zen. I want to achieve three things. Just three. That's all. If I can make these three things happen, I'll be the happiest SJG. Satisfied in every way. All I want is this: I want to be worshipped. I want to be adored. I want to be exalted. Call me misguided, but I think I've earned the right to be bowed down to, at regular intervals, throughout the day.