My expectations have changed a lot in the last 10 years. I've had lots of ideas for myself — some outwardly impressive and some just inwardly challenging. I guess I've always had some form of great expectation, even if it's not the take-over-the-world-become-famous kind. And, like Pip, I've sometimes found my expectations disappointing, hollow on closer examination or just unsatisfying upon realization.
Nowadays, my great expectations are more about balance and happiness than accomplishments. I have lots of fresh start days. I have daydreams of finding people I fit with and a place that's perfect for me. I promise myself I'll go easier on the world and tame my mind into action. I force all kinds of disciplines upon myself.
I daydream about the life that this new and improved me will lead. My social awkwardness will disappear. I'll stop looking at every other woman and finding something in her more beautiful than me. I'll save and do yoga and stop getting upset about trivial things at work. I won't feel let down by friends. My hapless crushes will be hapful (yes, a new word).
But, of course, there's no renaissance. This is the skin I'm in. And the brain that lets me down. Yet I can, of course, fail better. I guess I'll always have great expectations, no matter how much I disappoint myself. I can't help it. They're the stuff of good lists and waking up excited and smiling at strangers and late night scheming.
Image from nessakphotography.com's Flickr