The Fantasy World of Turkey Sandwiches

I have a problem. Well, I have many problems. Actually, I have been told by multiple people that I would be a therapists dream, but this problem is serious. And only since reaching my twenties has it truly exploded into a daily issue that I just can't seem to shake. At first glance this delinquent behavior seems like just a frivolous pastime to take part in while waiting for the 6 train, but, if it is a habit of mine, it is more than likely completely destructive. The demon ritual, of course, is allowing my imagination to run wild.

Like I said, at first glance it is practically benign. Most with an active imagination are able to create and invent. People now live in in elaborately beautiful tree houses because of an over-active imagination. The streets of New York City are littered with interpretive art both tangible and metaphysical, and the reason being because of great fabrications that are born directly out of one's imagination.

This is fantastic. My life is enriched every single day because of these innovators, and it is in large part due to their existence that I continue to reside in this eccentric and exciting city. However, my mind is not helping to develop the next kid-friendly greenspace or being used to conjure up gorgeous patterns that will soon be found on pillows, blouses and lamp-shades that belong to the trendy. No, my mind is working against me. My imagination is running too wild, and there is no way to reign it back in.

Every few hours or so it happens.  I start to drift into that daydreamer state of being and it's all over from there. I fantasize about moving back to Florida, for example. But, this time I envision something that simply will never materialize. I picture myself waking up in the morning to jog along the intercoastal as the sun rises. Not only am I jogging, but I'm finally in year-round bikini season shape that plagues Floridians day after day. I get home to my apartment that has been immaculately decorated and, with a dopey grin plastered across my mug, I take in the breathtaking views from my balcony. Then, of course I get ready to go to my amazingly rewarding job. I obviously bike there since that is the most eco-minded and healthy way to do things. After work, all of my new friends and I head over to the local outdoor bar and have a fantastic night of drinking just enough and twirling to the tunes. The next day we go out on the boat and the day after that we head to the beach for a bonfire and barbecue. The magical Florida sunshine coats each and every one of us in constant happiness.
 

Did you gag yet? Is your mouth gaping open? I know, it's delusional. And this is just one elaborate example; I could fill a Crime and Punishment-size book with all of my crazy hallucinations. So, here in lies the issue. How am I ever ever ever supposed to live up to the expectations that my imagination is setting! I can't, for that life doesn't exist for anyone. Nope, no one. Because even with all of the money in the world, the forecast will inevitably show thunderstorms from Friday night until Monday morning, and it will literally be raining all over your parade. I lived in Florida for 22 years. I was not tan, I did not own a bikini (you are all very welcome), and I can count the number of times I have been on a boat on two hands. Twenty-two years of the Florida lifestyle led me to eventually move to a place where I am donning a coat and snow boots 8 months a year. Why would this time be any different?

Maybe things could change for the better. Maybe at my older and wiser age of 25 I would take advantage of all those things I neglected to do during my "angst" teen years living in the tropics. But more than likely, I will snooze my alarm and wake up frantic with 20 minutes to get ready. I'll hop in my gas-guzzling SUV and head off to a job that is just barely paying the bills and then at the end of the day head home to catch that new reality series about real estate moguls, or obese veterans or gay nannies who fall in love with each other. I know this is so negative Nancy of me, but most of the time people are who they are. While I'd love to turn into an early morning riser who drinks their egg whites before running off into the sunset, the reality is that I hate the act of running and the thought of eggs in the morning turns me a Kermit the Frog shade of green.

The best cure I can think of is to force myself to just live in the now. It's the only way to avoid these thoughts of grandeur that have about a zero percent chance of happening. I struggle emensely with this, as I think all 20-somethings do. Living in the now is hard because that now is not always you at your best. I know I'm constantly ready for that next step, that next job, in short the next ladder rung of life. So, from now on, I only want to imagine about simple, obtainable things as to not disappoint my future self. I will close my eyes and see myself laughing at a movie, which seems completely doable if it's during the holiday season. I can clearly daydream about that turkey sandwich with mustard and lettuce that I will be lunching with later because I know with complete certainty it will be happening, hell, it might be happening for dinner as well. That's living. Sure, these seem mundane, but with an imagination like this, I will be in constant amazement of myself achieving my daydreams. If something greater comes along it will be an exciting bonus.

In order to keep my big problem at bay, "living in the now" is my new mantra. Being happy exactly where you are is not easy, but then again, who wants to do all that bathing suit shopping, anyway...