Back To The Future

About once a week or so, I have one of those Lost "flash forward" moments. I've been doing this weekly unintended-routine for some years now, mostly as a means to end whatever stress or insecurity is tucked within my mind on that particular day. Today was the day for this week, and it was quite the fantasy:

I wake up around 8am or so, shower, shave and kiss my wife--an attractive lady with long dark hair and caramel skin--goodbye. Leaving my house, located somewhere in the Bergen County area of Jersey, I hop on the dreaded NJ Transit train into Manhattan. My final destination: the offices of Entertainment Weekly, where I'm knee-deep in a cover story profile on Michael Cera, who has evolved into quite the leading man in his mid-age. As a Senior Writer for the entertainment rag, I'm its go-to guy for all things Hollywood and pop culture. In fact, my press credentials for the Comic-Con convention are on my desk, next to my ripped ticket stub from the flight out to Colorado for last year's Sundance Film Festival, as well as a stub for the flight out to France for the Cannes Fest. It's a tough job, but somebody's got to do it. Oh, and on my lunch break, I continue to jot down notes for my screenplay, a psychological horror gem that'll set the cinematic world ablaze in a couple years.

Of course, with the current economic scares we're all feeling, let's hope Entertainment Weekly is still poppin' by that time, but I belive it will. What can I say, I'm a dreamer like that.

I don't know, I guess I've just had one helluva year, self-evaluation wise. Like, I see myself in one place years from now, and I ask myself, "Are you on the proper path to get there?" Deep down, I believe that I am, but being the insecure chronic self-doubter that I've been my entire life, those questions always surface at one point or another.

The times, my friends, they are a-changing, and it's like the Wild Wild West out here in the real world. I know I have what it takes to withstand the inevitable storms. My best days, creatively, haven't even begun to scratch my talent's surface, I feel.

As for that "wife" I kissed goodbye, that's a whole other bag of worms to open, mentally. Why can't I just look into a crystal ball and see who I marry, thus deleting all of the worry and uncertainty that I'm forever feeling? Like, at least I'll know that I do in fact get hitched, and it all works out in the end. Some would say that seeing into my future in this way would ruin the joys and surprises that life's ride cruises through, and to that understandable sentiment, I retort with these three deeply-thought-out, delicately chosen words: "Fuck all that." I'd pay insane amounts of money to see who my future wife is, barring, of course, any sort of damaging Butterfly Effect on my life. Just a sneak peak at my romantic future, and then back to my present reality.

Am I alone in this? I don't think so. Anybody else who is single and dating a bunch of misfires would surely second my notion, right?

--Oh, and for those who've been readiing all of my posts, you may have detected a running theme of "Matt's quest for true love," and you'd be spot-on in such an observation. But deal with it, readers. It's always issue numero uno en mi cabeza, and if I can't exercise my demons on this here blog/journal/testimonial/time-consumer, then where can I ?