How we find what we want

Okay dorks, let's talk about musicals

Five years ago, I was obsessed with Ariana Grande.

After witnessing her strength and poise after the Manchester tragedy, I was enormously impressed with her character, which I’d underestimated.

Then when she released the best breakup album ever (!), I became a full-on crazed superfan of her music.

I watched and listened to every single thing she put out during that time, drowning in YouTube quicksand.

My obsession eventually led me to an anniversary concert celebrating the musical “Wicked,” where she belted one of its many belt-y ballads.

Despite my love for musicals, “Wicked” was always far too theater-kid, even for me. Not to mention, you lose me as soon as wands and enchanted coins enter the scene. (My stance on fantasy and sci-fi is the same as my stance on psychedelics: This world is PLENTY. I don’t need MORE.)

Call me old-fashioned but I’d much rather watch a three-hour melodrama about how everyone in Paris during the 1820s knew each other and most of them die, the end; rather than a frenemy situation between two witches at college who only ever wear their signature color. Just my preference.

But I was so on board with Ariana Grande, that I watched her performance at that Wicked concert, having absolutely no investment in the piece.

And well guess the hell what.

I thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever heard. And I did sniffle and I did shed a tear.

I cried not only because basically everything Ariana Grande did at that time made me cry, but because the song moved me so, in spite of my musical theater smugness.

I had no idea what the lyrics were exactly referring to, or where it was in the show, but it instantly became my favorite “I Want” song—a quintessential expression of yearning for a someday transformation that would at last validate this troubled character.

I learned a little more about the context of the song—a green lady always had a weird ability to control stuff around her, and suddenly learned that maybe her quirk was a good thing?! And could help her meet…The Wizard of Oz??—but the context barely mattered to me.

I got it. I understood the longing, the message, the risky hope.

Because I identified with that same wish: the wish for someone else to make sense of my flaws and essentially validate my whole existence.

While I wasn’t, like, born green, I’ve always felt…defective. I may not look different walking into a new space, but I feel different. There’s a mystery glitch in there—one that makes me wonder what so many others have that I don’t.

So, the second I heard this song from a musical I’ve never given the time of day to, I connected like a magnet—particularly to this verse:

Once I'm with the Wizard
My whole life will change
Cause once you're with the Wizard
No one thinks you're strange
No father is not proud of you
No sister acts ashamed
And all of Oz has to love you
When by the Wizard, you're acclaimed
And this gift or this curse I have inside
Maybe at last, I'll know why
When we are hand in hand…
The Wizard and I

This was exactly how I felt about, um, a boyfriend.

Well more specifically, the love of my life.

I thought that, once I was in a relationship with my own human ‘wizard’ who would alchemize my flaws into magical powers and see what all other people had missed, I’d be okay.

Maybe even truly happy.

Maybe even more widely accepted.

Maybe even less insecure and more appreciative of what makes me different.

And you wanna know what?

I was RIGHT!!!!

Since meeting Mr. Mari, I have been so much less critical of myself, so much more creative, and so much more CHILL. Having someone at home who has actually CHOSEN to love me unconditionally, and instantly transforms my weirdness into superpowers, has entirely fulfilled that longing I recognized in “The Wizard and I.”

But…that’s not the message of the song. Or the message I ever thought I’d tell.

After all, I partially built my entire career on my genuine appreciation for being single:

I knew as early as middle school that any desire for a boyfriend was just a desire to feel normal in the world, and that feeling that sense of normal-ness and belonging was an inside job—nothing that someone else can give you.

In the musical “Wicked” (which I saw in movie form on opening day—thanks to my mom for going to the earliest matinée with me), “The Wizard” is a figment of the Oz Kingdom’s imagination.

In reality, he had no real power, and needs the green witch Elphaba because she actually does have all capabilities he lacks.

(Just…go with me here.)

Though Elphaba hoped her partnership with The Wizard would bring her ultimate acceptance, she ultimately rejected his acceptance. She had already found value in her own magic, and she’d rather use it against his abusive regime than help him for favor with the public.

I suspect most of us carry a mythical “Wizard” in our mind’s eye: that one person or that one thing that will—once and for all—validate and free us to do what we’ve always wanted.

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I remember a conversation between Lindy West and Lena Dunham, during which Lena lamented, “I want to lose weight so I can do things like go hiking.”

Lindy responded, “LENA. Fat people go hiking.”

At the time, Lindy’s obvious insight sobered me up, and I started examining the goals I thought I’d have to accomplish before I get to the good stuff—the stuff I actually wanted.

This mentality wasn’t entirely my own doing. When I sent an email to a potential agent about a book idea I had, she responded, “You only get to write a memoir once you’re actually famous. And you’re not famous enough to be interesting.”

First of all, ouch???

Second, okay, then how do I get famous enough to be interesting? Chicken and egg, much?!??

I bought into the fallacy of “Once I [blank] I can start doing [blank].”

Pleased to report I feel more confident in my present life than I did in 2016

And then I stopped buying into that, and my life got so much richer. And, in turn, happier!

So why does “The Wizard and I” still speak to me to the point of sniffles and tears, and how do I reckon with the uncomfortable truth that my life actually did improve immeasurably when I got what I wanted??

(Despite one of my favorite quotes!)

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While actually watching the whole musical (as opposed to just the Ariana clip), I could see some fun-house mirroring of my own journey with Elphaba’s.

I started appreciating my defects/talents (same thing, usually) for myself, and thus I could use them how I wanted.

My own internal shift was realizing that my ‘complications’ weren’t something to be noticed, transmuted, then adored by someone (anyone!) else.

Rather, those complexities that had always caused me so much strife were something that I could choose to share—when there was a reason that mattered to me.

I stopped sharing them as an initiation test for others, and rather started sharing them as a privilege for others: “You get to see this weird stuff!”

It’s not a shift I can prescribe or describe for anyone else; it’s so deeply internal that it transcends vocabulary; maybe it comes from the same spot as the putative “glitch.”

(Big disclaimer: I really hope it doesn’t sound like I’m implying that anyone “still single” because they don’t appreciate or love themselves enough—it is not you.)

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I got close to articulating this shift recently when my Spanish teacher asked me about my year in general—highlights and lowlights, updates on my resolutions.

I almost interrupted her, with bold intention, “This was a really good year.”

Like all of us, I’ve had some doozies, so I want to claim this. Let it be known: This was a good year.

We swapped theories as to why it was such a good year, despite the fact that I didn’t have a ton to show for it: 2024 was my lowest financial year I’ve had ever, and I didn’t get many jobs at all, and didn’t win anything or accomplish anything notable, and I didn’t move or begin anything I could announce to any fanfare.

And that’s because all my accomplishments have been invisible. Internal. Flips and shifts in my brain and guts. Little chiropractic adjustments of the soul.

Nothing I could announce or proclaim or brag about.

How do you boast about changes in feeling?

For example, during my trip to Madrid, I spoke Spanish freely and joyfully for the very first time—ever. And it had nothing to do with anything quantifiable; I’ve been testing as fluent for years and never once have I been able to utter a sentence without cowering in insecurity and terror.

Meanwhile, total beginners have soared ahead of me in fluidity and communication because they bravely chatted with locals without hesitation, while I’d be searching for a place to hide.

(If you knew how many times a day I embarrass myself in English, you would be baffled by my insecurity!)

In Madrid, I was confident, within. Confident to make mistakes, confident to start a conversation not knowing where it would lead.

That’s the same type of chutzpah I’ve tried to bring to marriage: trust in the safety of making mistakes and acting a ding dong, but knowing that we can always figure it out. And that’s the actual prize. Not the validation of standing there with the Wizard, but of creating a long-lasting partnership based on shared, aligned ambitions.

It’s not the validation of being seen (which is soooo intoxicating for people who feel different!), but the summoning of shared gifts to create something bigger and better.

And that’s what Elphaba really wanted.

When she cultivated enough self-trust to declare that her values differed from The Wizard’s, she could use her sorcery skills for her own mission—ultimately, against The Wizard.

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Since I first heard Ariana sing those notes, I’ve been thinking about the “why” behind my goals.

Sometimes it’s so fuzzy that I can’t identify: Do I want this for me, or for approval? Am I doing this because I love myself, or because I believe I need a few more improvements before I can love myself?

What I’ve discovered in a lifetime of searching for my own Wizards and looking for ways to self-improve in the meantime, is the same discovery that Elphaba makes at the end (of Act 1, anyway): She wanted partnership, but she found it in a friend rather than this mythical leader.

I’ve always known that I, too, wanted partnership—both because I’m a romantic and because interdependence is baked into human DNA!!—but I was looking for a wizard who would miraculously elevate me into make-believe greatness, rather than a person who was right by my side.

And I find that a lot of my aspirations through the years follow this same trajectory: Wanting a miracle, wanting a transformation….and then, one day, I realize they’re so much a part of me that the original metrics don’t apply.

How many times have I started a new exercise regime in order to get shredded (yep) or become a late-in-life Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader (lol) or, at the very least, be able to impress randos with my PRs (they don’t care)?

This was the first year where weightlifting became such an essential part of my day and my drive, that I don’t look at numbers or measurements anymore—it’s just irrelevant. The metric is my mental state, which is sort of hard to capture in a selfie.

Elphaba’s benchmark for success and acceptance is meeting the Wizard, but when she actually does, it’s irrelevant. She has everything she wants already.

And by my second date with my husband, I had everything I wanted already.

Don’t get it twisted—I was dying to get married, mostly for the veil—but the fact that I’d met such a good person who saw such goodness in me was the reward.

Not fantastical, not particularly powerful, but real, right there, and so natural I almost forgot to dream about the future—because it couldn’t get better than the present.

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This is the first year of my adult life when I’ve decided to do something major next year: NOT make any resolutions. NOT set intentions, choose a word, buy a productivity planner, hold myself to a number or an end game or even a soft lovely purpose.

And it feels like a cheeky rebellion against self!

I’m super motivated by goals and really enjoy the process of making them; I’ve absolutely made ‘goal-making’ my entire personality during some years.

But, in Elphaba-style, I’ve found that Life is way smarter than I am when it comes to what I actually want. You’d think my longings would come from some deep authentic truest-self inner-child place, but that place can be a real idiot! My soul is much wiser—bypassing checklists and crumpling up pages of plans.

Have you guys seen (or done!) this ChatGPT dream life thing? You write a big list of goals for AI to sift through, and request that it (they?) tell you a typical day in your future life based on the list.

I did it today, and what Madame ChatGPT spit out was so close to what I’m living now—minus a rescue donkey and some foster dogs and a garden filled with birds and bugs. Oh, and a six-burner gas range oven in a spacious kitchen where I don’t have to scream at people and cats alike to get out of my way when I so much as make toast.

It’s not because I’ve achieved everything I envisioned for my life (not sure what’s holding up Terry Gross and Krista Tippett from calling…), but because, just by living—something anyone can do!—I’ve learned how to fulfill my own self. And recognize when someone (person and cat alike) can make it so much better.

The end of my Dream Day according to artificial intelligence probably being analyzed by several authoritarian government officials as we speak said this:

After cooking dinner with vegetables from your garden, you curl up on the couch with your cat by your side, and reflect on your day. Maybe you’ll read a chapter from classic literature or a book on history, or listen to music while chatting with [Mr. Mari] about plans for the coming week. There’s no rush here, just contentment.

Before bed, you pause in front of the fire and give thanks—for the day, for the love, for the creative work you’re able to do, and for the peaceful life you’ve built. You don’t take it for granted. You feel a deep sense of gratitude for the resilience you’ve cultivated, for the wisdom you’ve gained, and for the joy of sharing your life with those you love.

You fall asleep feeling fulfilled, knowing tomorrow will bring more creative inspiration, more time with Mr. Mari, more beauty in the garden, more time with your friends and animals, and more opportunities to serve others. It’s a life of purpose, balance, and deep, soul-nourishing satisfaction.

A few years ago, I would have been face-down snoring by the end of that description.

Now, it makes me smile from ear to ear. Life has such a magical way of clarifying what we actually want and what we truly need. No “magical” Wizard could do any better.

P.S. Registration for my writing retreat in North Carolina over May 2-4, 2025 is open now! It’s fabulously remote, but an easy Hickory Hop bus ride from the Charlotte airport. We’ll talk about book-writing and publishing and editing and refining and much more chill subjects than that—and it will be so FUN!