Wait a minute, hold the phone, everybody stop . . . do you mean to tell me . . . that the girl with the guitar in the DoorDash commercial still hasn’t become a globally famous singer/songwriter-that, in fact, she is still working for DoorDash?
Is that even possible?
Because the commercial led me to believe that with all that extra time on her hands she would surely be able to master her music, book those gigs, get ink on those contracts, and rocket off into the heights of legend as the latest and the greatest Indie sensation-or was I reading too much into the ad?
Maybe I was over-invested in the vision?
That would fit.
It would definitely explain all these instances of late of me walking full-on off cliffs and into gorges and blundering into barbed wire fences and electrified cattle enclosures-
-because I’m locked into those clouds above, addicted to the dream, a hopeless case . . .
