Who defines your fantasy? Two options: (1) you, (2) them.

In Lorde’s smash hit Royals, she sings, “Let me live that fantasy” thus asking for permission to live her fantasy. Sure, if your fantasy is to fly the space shuttle, you’re going to need permission (or a lifetime of commitment, hard work and luck), but if you create your own fantasy, then you should be able to achieve it.

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Maybe it’s partly because Lorde is 16 and I’m, well, uh, no longer 16, but I’m been-there-done-that with fantasies that I can’t achieve. Again, I don’t mean I wish I could fly like a bird but more I want to live in Paris for a year.

And we’ll never be royals. It don’t run in our blood.

Yes, technically, to be royal, it’s easier if it runs in your blood. I suppose you could marry into royalty. That’s an option. But as is policy here at Repossible, let’s take it from a different perspective. Here’s a perspective: face it, if you’re not royalty now, the chances are, well, not good that you will. But what is it about royalty that you’d like to achieve? Become? Feel? Experience?

I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule, I’ll rule

Do you rule your own domain? Your domain might not be the northern provinces of France, but let’s switch to our reality, let’s make it an achievable fantasy. If that’s no longer your definition of fantasy that’s OK, but this is repossible, we’re into making the formerly impossible possible. Back to perspective, back to, “Whose fantasy is this anyway?”

Where do your fantasies come from? Chances are they are influenced by what’s around us: media, movies, super stars, the music we listen to, the videos we watch. Producers make those. Who makes your fantasy?

• Their fantasy: Eiffel tower, in tuxedo, drinking champagne, with beau guy/gal on your arm, smiling, lots. In slow motion. To a soundtrack. It lasts about 3 minutes.
• Your fantasy: I’d really just like to live in Paris.

Let’s cut to the chase. You can live in Paris for a year if you really, really (no, really) want it. How do I know this? Because I am a firm believer in Where There’s a Will There’s a Way. It’s that simple. It’s hard work, sacrifice, laser focus, determination (like a dog staring at the tennis ball … for 12 minutes). I’m also a staunch believer in Bite-Size Change. How can you get from where you are now to Bite-Size Change (say, Paris for 2 weeks) to Big Change (Paris for a year)? Here’s how: forget Paris for a year for the moment. How can you get there for 2 weeks? You can get a hotel, buy a plane ticket. But if you’d like to go for a year, you’d like to be more a local, you’d like to walk out of your door and be in a neighborhood, you’d like to recognize your neighbors, you’d like to have a bakery around the corner and get to “know” the woman who works there and have her give your 8-year old a sugary treat every morning, because that’s what they do in Paris, but you didn’t know that before you got there, because you were waiting to go for a year, but you never went for a year, so you didn’t go at all, ever, but you want it to make your 8-year-old’s day, to make him feel special, to make him feel like he’s the center of the universe, if only for a few minutes of a warm summer morning in Paris, not because your 8-year old really cares if he’s in Paris (or Paris, Texas), but because you care if you’re in Paris (or Paris, Texas) and it’s your fantasy and you can make it real, and you can feel like you’re in “your” neighborhood, where you’re “living” for two weeks, to make him feel like a prince–and you like a king (or queen).

Then you’re royalty. You’ve defined what it means to be royal.

It might be for 2 minutes, but 2 minutes is part of 2 weeks and 2 weeks is part of 1 year. You won’t get to 1 year without the 2 weeks or the 2 minutes.

We’re better than we’ve every dreamed. And I’m in love with being queen.

• Possible: be a peasant.
• Impossible: be royal.
• Repossible: be your royal.

Just in case you can’t get enough of Royals, here’s a cover version by one of my favorite groups, Pentatonix. They use no instruments at all.

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Is it your Paris or their Paris? [“Our” neighborhood in Paris.]