Sometimes.

Sometimes I wish I was a millionaire. So I could ride around Atlanta in my Audi, beeping at assholes that don't drive fast enough. Or those that drive too fast. So I could buy the clothes I want to buy, eat the food I want to eat, pay off my credit card and worry only about what I'm going to do next.

Sometimes I wish I was REALLY Italian. So I could spend my afternoons reading a good book in the Tuscan sunflower fields. So I could indulge in homemade gelato at about 3 p.m., when everyone seems to hit the ice cream shops. So I could buy my leather sandals and my leather jackets and my linen skirts at sidewalk malls. The ones the tourists can't find. So Paris would be a jump away, Venice would be just a short train ride and spending a weekend on the Grecian islands would be the norm instead of just another dream vacation.

Sometimes I wish I didn't like chocolate. So depriving myself of Reese's peanut butter cups wouldn't be so torturous. So I wouldn't miss fudge while I'm chowing down on carrot sticks in the afternoon. So I'd be one of those health nuts who actually preferred soy crisps over chocolate milkshakes. Then maybe my 6-pack wouldn't be so hard to achieve. And my baby fat wouldn't have lasted 25 years.

Sometimes I wish the world wasn't so greedy. And people weren't so needy -- for attention or money or love from someone that didn't love them back. So people could just concentrate on their lives and how to improve them. Instead of bombs and wars and religious freedom (which doesn't come free). So I wouldn't have to worry what kind of place my child, whenever he or she comes, would have to deal with.

I wish a lot of things sometimes. But usually always, I'm just glad I'm me. And things are what they are. If they weren't, I wouldn't have met you. You wouldn't have met me. You probably wouldn't be reading this. And I wouldn't be as thankful for what I have.

I wish, above all else, that I can remember this feeling. Always.