Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Blog #159: Imaginaaaaation

Today, we talk about imagination.

I've always had a pretty active imagination. Probably because I've always been a huge reader. I love to read and always have. I go to a whole different place and time and can get in this zone of the story and all of the sudden hours pass by and I didn't even know. 

This served me really well as a little kid. I could entertain myself for hours. Anything could be a toy. Even basic school supplies. One time my Crayola markers were people who talked to each other and traded "hats" around. Another time it was my erasers (the kinds you put on the end of the pencil, are those still things?). Obviously the pink and purple markers/erasers were girls while blue and red were boys. Occasionally this would get me in trouble for not paying attention in class because I was involved in a dramatic enactment of my character's scenes from The Oregon Trail when the yellow marker has dysentery, but mostly the imagination was a good thing. You should see the plot lines and story arcs I had going with my barbies. Soap opera stuff. 

Growing up, however, has translated into a very different direction for my imagination. Instead of sitting at work creating stories with paper clips and post it notes, my imagination instead has me thinking of WORST POSSIBLE SCENARIOS. It gets pretty dark.

Last week I accidentally left my phone in my car overnight while it was in the shop getting a tire repaired. This wouldn't be a HUGE deal except that I don't have Internet or a land line in my apartment so I was OFF THE GRID. So, here is what imagination did for me:  
"No phone. Huh. Okay. Well, I don't need to reach anyone tonight. It's fine. I'll just read. Though, what if there's an emergency? What if something happens to someone in my family and they can't get ahold of me? I guess they could call Eric and he could come get me. But how would he get in? He doesn't have the pass code to my building and I wouldn't know he was here! And what if someone saw him trying to get in and got suspicious and called the police? I guess they would help him get in if they believed him. But what if they didn't!? And then he got arrested and was stuck in jail and couldn't call me? Or, what if someone does let him in and turns out to be a crazy person who attacks him in the elevator? And then they come after me! And then I can't call anyone either! Or what if he gets in and then takes the elevator because he thinks it will be quicker and then it gets stuck!? Oh god I can't be off the grid!"

It was ridiculous. And it was all because of my imagination. Who would have thought that the same gift that gave me hours of cheap entertainment as a child would be the one that fuels my wine drinking as an adult.

That was a joke. Don't send me things about substance abuse.

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