Like most others, I want to put down roots- find the home, raise the family, be connected to the community. These are the things that I associate with being rooted. I've been pondering this idea of being rooted since it was brought up on Sunday Scribbles.

I was raised in a family that was rooted to each other. We were rooted to the home, the community, the church, our Irish heritages. When I think of being rooted I think of safety and connection. Who would argue that these are bad things? Can being too rooted too deeply be a hindrance?Perhaps being these roots can also be an anchor that keeps us from change.

I wrote about my parents selling the house that I grew up in and the understandable sadness for me that followed that sale. My parents had the right idea, they are in their late 70's and those roots had become burdensome. Two people getting along in years don't need a large, 105 year old house that is in constant need of repair. They moved to a small manageable apartment downtown- a guy changes their light bulbs when they burn out. They are still rooted but they have another place to grow. I am so connected to my roots that I would not have sold the house- those deep roots would have kept me firmly in place and not allowed me to do the next right thing. These roots, which are meant to be good, would have instead become an anchor for me.

Anyone who has followed this blog is aware of the never ending story of K- and I selling everything and moving to Paris. The main obstacle in this scary/ exciting adventure is the thought of tearing up the small roots we have nurtured and following an uncertain dream. How many people forgo the dream to keep the roots from being disturbed? Which is more important the roots or the dream? I truly don't know the answer to these questions but I suspect I will find out in August when those roots are pulled.

What I hope to find is that the roots are within- that I will always be rooted to my family, my community and my heritage. What I would like to discover is that, in a spiritual sense, it is impossible to be uprooted.

Last year K- and I decided to get rid of Cable TV. Easy Right? No, not easy at all, but it had to be done. We had stopped reading, we had stopped talking. We would sit in front of the TV and eat dinner. It was too easy to come home and turn on the TV- it is too easy to turn off your brain.

When you first get cable you're excited and why not, the world is at your finger tips. After about two weeks you realize it isn't the world at your fingertips as much as several hundred channels of shit. You come to see it as a waste of money and time. "How many times can they play Karate Kid?" You ask yourself. The answer is "a lot".

The human mind is an incredibly adaptable thing, after about 3 weeks cable TV starts to get interesting and exciting again. You realize that you were wrong, cable isn't bad, cable good. Cable and all it has to offer is beautiful. E entertainment is just like People Magazine except someone is reading it to you and the pictures move!!!! "What in the Sam Hill is Lindsy Lohan doing?!" I cry at the top of my lungs. "Is she really an alcoholic, I can't think all that coke is good for her sobriety, maybe its different in California". I'm worried sick about the Olsen Twins, are they ok- they seem so sad and they still look like little Troll Dolls. I'd send Bob Sagget to offer TV parental guidance (which is the best kind) but I'm worried he might try whore them out for pot or a bit part in a commercial

The TV stayed on. I became fascinated with Paris Hilton. Back in B.C. (Before Cable) I never found her attractive but after two weeks of continuous coverage her beauty is revealed to me. Why, She looks plastic, just like my TV...and shiny, and very very interesting. She must be all of these things because I continue to watch. My life had no purpose in B.C.- there was nothing to aspire to. Now I realize I will be happy if I am ripped like Pitt and as wealthy as Trump. A marriage will always be filled with romance there will be no disagreements. Friends tell me that I need to get back to reality- but I am deep in reality, The Apprentice, The Nanny, Big Brother, Fear Factor. don't tell me about reality- you need to be black or white, good or evil or you will be voted off, fired or given a sound dressing down to. You can't be a mixture of both its too confusing for an hour long show.There is no room for gray in reality.

I had to admit there was a problem and that my life had become unmanageable. Today I'm cable free but I'll never be cured. I have a daily reprieve, if I don't watch today- just for today, I can live a pretty normal life. I still dream that there could be a laugh track whenever I say something clever and that my theme song would play every time I walked into a room but that's just my disease talking. I'll be ok- just let me just curl up in the fetal position for a little while...I'll be fine.

What is fantasy?
The first thing that comes to mind is sexual, but I don't think I want to go there. There is a website called M-dwest M@ndy. People end up on my site looking for Miss M@ndy- Mandy doesn't wear a shirt in her blog. I, on the other hand, do. I don't suspect that the men who are looking for M-dwest M@ndy are having their fantasies fulfilled by my blog. M-dwest M@ndy is comfortable with herself, or M-dwest M@ndy is incredibly uncomfortable with herself, I don't know.

Fantasy is creative imagination- I looked it up. Fantasy is a daydream all gussied up. It's a daydream with its shoes shined, its hair combed back and the pantleg breaks, just so, at the shoe.

Daydreams I have.

I dream that I could make a living being creative.
I dream thatI could quit my job.
I dream...
I dream...
I dream...

The line between dreams and living in a fantasy world can be tricky. I can focus so long on a fantasy world that my actual existence will appear dull and common in comparison. I was never so discontent as when I was deep in fantasy- I drank, did drugs and watched a lot of TV to disappear in a fantasy world that could never exist.

When I stopped all of those things, I was left with my world as it truly is- I then had to learn to be content with reality. I still dream, but dreaming without attempting to attain that dream is spiritual suicide.

Men that dream that M-dwest M@ndy is theirs live sad, small, unfulfilled lives.