Daydreaming and Doing

Daydreaming.

It's funny. Daydreams are nothing at all like dreams. So why do we call them dreams?

"I have dreamed a dream!"

Really he daydreams a daydream.

I daydream more than anybody I know. Daydreams and plans and lists and schemes and wishes. I have more plans in my back pocket than a plenitude of project managers stuck around a conference table.

Some of my daydreams I've daydreamed today:

• a freezer stocked with frozen peach upside down cakes
• apple handpies, strawberry handpies, blueberry handpies, raspberry handpies, peach handpies
• a fresh, homemade loaf of bread at the beginning of each week
• a visit to Idaho
• the tools I'll buy
• the sofa table, kitchen table, stepstools, outdoor seating, and shelving I'll build
• staying in bed for three days straight (I have a killer of a head cold)
• new planner pages I'll design
• the quilts I'll finish
• ordering seeds from the three organic seed catalogs I've requested (I don't have a yard)
• gardening (I still don't have a yard)
• making delicious, simple, home cooked meals from the juicy berries and fresh vegetables I've grown
• fiscal responsibility and financial security
• Thanksgiving in Kentucky
• books, books, and books
• canning beans
• supporting local farmers
• having two freezers stocked to the nines with perfect food rotation

Doing.

I don't know that I'm much of a doer. I do so much less than I dream. Of course, I say that from my very own house that I bought with money I saved from working the same job for six a half years. I have shelves and shelves of books I've read, a closet full of clothes I've worn to see people and places, an atlas squiggled all over with yellow highlighter to show where I've been.

So I must do some things some times.


Daydreaming and Doing.

I'm trying to let go. To be loosey goosey with my life and my time. To not schedule everything to the tiniest, infinitesimal bit and then be devastated when it doesn't work.

Will this help me do more of my daydreams? I haven't decided yet. I wish I had empirical evidence that tells me it will help.

I don't have the evidence. Which is probably a good thing.


Daydreaming and Doing as Part of Living.

The goal is not to do. Neither is the goal to daydream. The goal is to Live. To live happily and well. Doing is part of living. Daydreaming is another part of living. Neither can subsume the most important thing, which is living.

Do you know what it means to live?

I hope I'm not the only one that forgets that living is the thing. I would feel more human and less awkward and gangly knowing it's a common weakness.

I suppose there's no evidence there either.

What do you do that makes you forget living?

Is it the humdrum of life? Anyone who thinks life is humdrum is not living. This I know.

Is it doing, like me? Or the pursuit of people, friends and other types of relationships both more and less significant? Is it knowledge? A sense of freedom? A desire to be thought well of?


Living.

This life is full of so many things. The abundance is staggering.

Stumbling over the sheer everythingness of life is one of my greatest weaknesses.

I want to stand tall and straight without stumbles. To be at peace on the inside but also to get the very most out of this life that I possibly can.

That may be the most impossible daydream of all.

The End of Summer

There's something sad in the end of summer.

I am not mourning the end of my favorite season. As a child it was not the return to school that saddened me.

Rather, in summer we come close to a lost way of living.

Summer days are filled with sweetness. There are always things to do and new games to discover. Summer invites a carefree feeling even as we continue to grow and learn and change.

I wish I could take the feel of summer with me into the crunchy fall and the chilly winter. The seasons change and life becomes a drudgery of sorts. Things that don't matter all that much suddenly matter a great deal. There's no time for daydreaming or adventuring.

And so I mourn the end of summer. The shortening days and cooling temperatures. The increased desire for productivity.

Someday, the magic of summer will enshroud me like a magic cloak, trailing bits of joyful freedom behind me no matter the season.

The end of summer will be no end at all.

Today

I spent most of the week in downtown SLC at a conference my university holds each year for its employees. I went armed with two 2-liters of diet coke, a bottle of vanilla flavoring, and a sandwich baggy of IB, Tylenol, Sudafed, and Tums.

The coke for headaches, the IB for headaches and wrist pain, the Tylenol for when I needed a little more help with my headaches, the Sudafed for when I consumed milk, yogurt, or cream and it clogged up my sinuses and worsened my headache, and the Tums to help settle my stomach when my headache got bad enough that it made me physically ill.

Truth: I’m a hot mess.

I am much better at caring for myself than I was a year ago. Because I feel better, I don’t much care about people seeing me with my baggy of pills or watching me pop pills again and again. At one point I even brought my 2-liter of coke and my bottle of vanilla flavoring into a meeting with me. It was the last day of the conference in the morning, so the lunch soda pop cans weren’t out yet (I also consumed a vast amount of 12 oz cans of coke each day). I was fending off a migraine and in a relatively good mood.

Previous work conferences resulted in me moving between a state of complete zombie-hood and incredible amounts of anger and frustration.

This year I was okay. Still tired and worn out from being with people all the time (my MBTI results from the week before the conference showed me as a serious introvert; no surprise) but okay.

It was weird to be so okay.

I did forget some things. Like my need for sunshine. My need for peace and quiet and meditation time to just think. A few other things, too.

I’ve begun a list. I call it, “Rules and Truths for Taking Care of Me.”

I’ve mentioned some of my truths before. I’ve never tried to consolidate them into a single list. I’ve barely started and it’s long long long.

This list is important.

Rule 1: When I don’t take care of myself, I will fall apart. It’s inevitable.

The list will help me fall apart less often. If I remember to review my rule and truths and act on them.

Someday I might even function almost like a normal person.

Mind boggled.

Another rule: I should never try and figure out at night what I’m capable of the next day.

Today starts our Park City week. I’m in SLC, just a mountain hop away. The parents suggested since I’d be in SLC until today that I join them and spend the night and then Sunday with them. I’m not intending to spend any other time in Park City. I need to be home. I need to work. I need to take care of my life. (See: Megan is a hot mess.)

Last night I called them. They were on a hot date for Friday fish fry and pie. I told them there was no stinking way I could meet them in Park City. I needed to go home.

This morning I woke up and I felt so good and happy and free (conference being over) and of course I could meet them in Park City. I had to check out in the morning time and they couldn’t check in until late afternoon time. I’d pick up a late breakfast or early lunch, head to the downtown SLC library, and get some serious five-year life plan work done. When they set out for Park City, they would call me and I would meet them there. Simple, convenient, perfect.

Last night I didn’t know what I was capable of today.

I used to be very good at gauging what I’d be capable of the next day. I’m a new person. I’m not familiar with me yet.

I made some notes and plans about my five-year life plan. I also started work on my list of Rules and Truths for Taking Care of Me. The list of Rules and Truths for Taking Care of Me must be followed for me to have any hope of accomplishing my five-year life plan. I’ve only got four years and four and a half months left.

Truth: I am a hot mess.

Rule: Deal with it.

Rule 1: When I don’t take care of myself, I will fall apart. It’s inevitable.

For so long I felt entirely incapable, barely holding things together. I knew I ought to be able to do more, but I couldn’t.

I’ve still got a ways to go. Lessons to learn, truths to discover, and rules to follow. I’m headed in the right direction. Finally. Working on becoming the best version of myself.

PS One of my favorite rules: Chocolate is a mild anti-depressant. Use it.