Wednesday, March 08, 2006

I can't believe I namedropped Ally McBeal. I am so ashamed.

I spend a great majority of my time daydreaming. I've always been this way. I may look like I'm working but I am not paying attention to what's on the computer in front of me. I'm thinking about something that happened this past weekend, last month, two years ago. I can't leave it alone, though. I modify my memories with what I wish had happened, or what could have happened. This usually leads me to think about something that hasn't happened yet. But could happen. Might happen. If I think about it long enough, hard enough. It's like I'm practicing for the real thing, but once the real thing rolls around I won't know what to do if everyone else doesn't cooperate with the images I already have in my mind.

Daydreaming can be bad for you. It used to get me in trouble at school, where I'd stare out the window instead of listening to directions, so when it came time to complete a project I'd make up my own. It gets me in trouble now, when my boss or a coworker has to say my name several times before I snap out of whatever fantasy I'm in the middle of. I hate to be all Ally McBeal at work, but at least I haven't seen any dancing babies. Yet. Maybe I'm not old enough.

Daydreaming can be dangerous. Have you tried it in the car? You are probably safer driving with a drunk person with glaucoma who hasn't slept for three days than you are driving with me while I'm daydreaming. Luckily for you, I only tend to daydream in the car when I'm alone. You totally dodged the bullet.

So, yes, daydreaming is bad, right? I've tried to make myself stop. Concentrate on what I'm doing, who I'm with, pay attention to directions. But I can't. Because as long as I can live in my head, modify old memories, imagine new ones, at least I'm living somewhere. Even if I really am just sitting in a cold office on a dreary Wednesday morning, staring out the window at the rain, wishing I was somewhere else.

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