I want to be fit. I want to shed the five pounds I've put back on and then some.
I want a good joust horse. Really. Desperately. I want one that has the right temperment, and I want it early enough that I can really put in some serious training time.
I want to be able to move like Lewis when there's a weapon in my hand. Gods, what I wouldn't give to be that gorgeous, that capable and assured.
I want time to write. Just a solid, uninterrupted block wherein I could tear apart my crappy first draft and rework it without doctors appointments, rehearsals and work getting in the way.
I want my psoriasis GONE. Forever.
I want to NOT look ridiculous playing opposite a Robin Hood far,far younger than I.
I want to go back to school. I want to have the money and the leisure to do so. There is so much I want to learn, so much I want to know...
I want to travel.
I want to feel as if I matter.
I want to make a difference.
I want to be able to wear a little black dress and look frelling hot.
I want to be a good singer. A really good singer, even.
I want to be more than a mediocre pennywhistle player.
I want a baby. Maybe.
I want to be free of the nagging fears of pregnancy.
I want to find the spark I lost, somewhere in the shadows of the years, that kept me going, that made me feel that I was a good writer, that I would succeed in my creative endeavours.
I want to stop whinging and start doing.
I want magic.