Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence – H.L. Mencken
You cannot depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus. – Mark Twain
I sure hope it rains tonight. I’m sitting in my back yard – drinking a cold beer and watching the dogs frolic. Actually Briscoe is laying in the grass right now, but she was recently frolicking. Ahh, imagination. If you have ever spent much quality time with me, you know my imagination is a blessing and a curse.
The people who are especially close to me are good at reminding me to keep my imagination in check. The same part of my mind that allows me to become totally and completely engrossed in a novel or a film or a story (for weeks on end at times), is the same part that wakes me up in a panic at 5 am on sunday morning with black thoughts of how the stupid things that transpired Saturday night will come back to ruin my life.
I think there is something to be said for being delusional, obviously the name of this blog is evidence of that. When your love life is not going so well, the one guy who can’t break up with you is the one who doesn’t know y’all are dating (hahaha, I love this joke, it never gets old, and the slight truth in it is enough to always make me smile). It is when your delusions begin to influence your real life decisions that problems arise. I like to think I’m not there yet.
For me, imagination is like the first drink on an empty stomach. At the end of a long hard week, when you haven’t eaten since noon, it is now 7:30, and you have that first glass of wine with your friends who you have been looking forward to seeing. It warms you, it cheers you, and it makes you feel as though the whole world is right there with you in all of your problems, difficulties, and successes. But if you don’t eat dinner soon, if you don’t fill yourself with real sustenance, that next glass of wine is going to knock you into saturday and taint friday night.
My imagination enhances my reality, it adds depth and perception to the things that are actually affecting me. But if I’m left too long with my thoughts and my expectations, my grandiose dreams, my idealization of people, places and things….I am setting myself up for disappointment and heartache – things that hurt worse than hangovers.
I need to go to Colorado in the winter time every once in a while if I’m going to visit there in the summer. Every summer I come home ready to move. Every winter I come home and kiss the sweet grass that grows in Georgia in February.
We talk of fairy tale endings, and storybook romances. When was the last time you read a fairy tale? Like a real fairy tale? Let’s just say they are not as rosy as I remember them being. The Hans Christian Anderson’s, the real fairy tales, are sad and heartbreaking. In the actual story of The Little Mermaid – the little mermaid DIES. The prince chooses the other girl, and the little mermaid dies. The story tries to tell you that she is better off dead, but still. Depressing.
I have a lot of dreams. Some of them are realistic, some of them aren’t. Last night I dreamed I was on the TV show entourage. The night before that I dreamed I was some sort of judge with a black robe and my friend Jennifer was in charge of the courtroom. My other dreams include owning a cookie store, having lots of babies, traveling the world and taking pictures for national geographic (although at this point I think this is more libby’s dream than mine), practicing law, owning my own company that sold something revolutionary like SPANX, being a landscape architect, and a host of other things.
Who knows. Briscoe dreams of a large lake to play in with lots of ice to chew on and tons of stuffed animals to rip to shred. As the wise Carl Sandberg said – "Nothing happens unless we first Dream."
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