Which side of sanity?
A long time ago I read some self-helpy type book which airily promised that if you were truly open to the universe, if you truly and honestly asked the universe for what you needed, then the universe would provide.
Well, all right then. The universe has been duly notified. I want, oh say, $250000 so I can buy a small apartment or trinity in Center City (or Fairmount or Queens Village or Fishtown or Northern Liberties — I’m not picky) so that I don’t really have to move. I mean, I’ll move anyway. I’m not leaving Ed or the children or any such crazy thing. An apartment (even a nice warehouse conversion with big windows and maybe a courtyard garden) doesn’t really sit on the other side of the equation with them (except on very very bad afternoons). But still. I could come back. Weekly. Go to the theater. The Art Museum. See friends. I could find new restaurants now that my children are finally old enough to be cheerfully left with a sitter and we will both be employed and thus able to afford to eat out. I could still be here.
I’m pretty sure the universe is not going to arrange this for me, but the fantasy has grown out of control. I spend the drive to Daniel’s school trying to figure out why I don’t have a quarter of million dollars saved up so I can do this. It would, I reason, make good financial sense to invest this money (which I don’t have) in real estate instead of leaving it wherever it is (which is nowhere because it doesn’t exist). I wonder about whether I should have the mail forwarded or just leave it there. I debate the wisdom of leaving it unrented vs. renting it for a couple of years to offset the mortgage. I consider the tax implications of owning a second property, as well as the moral and social implications of taking up more space on the struggling planet. I think about whether it would have a fireplace.
And then I remember that I don’t have this much money, am unlikely to EVER have this much money and that all these issues are therefore completely irrelevant. And I wonder about my sanity that I can spend so much time thinking about this imaginary scenario, particularly since it makes me feel more cheerful than just facing moving, and I resolve to stop thinking about it. It’s impossible, I think. You don’t, if nothing else (I tell myself sharply), have any money.
And then I start to scheme about how I COULD acquire the money (up to and including bank robbery and insurance fraud), and it all starts round again.
I am doing some fantasy real estate scheming right now, too. The amount I need is less than 250K, but no more likely to just appear on my doorstep. I don’t know, bank robbery sounds plausible.
I suspect (if the book is right) that the universe will only provide what you NEED not what you want… in which case bank robbery may be a good option. And although prison is pretty bad if it goes wrong, at least you won’t have to go shopping, cook, clean up for every meal as well as doing childcare!?
I think day dreaming is good. Literature is ‘good’ (as you know)not least because it opens our minds to new possibilities and other (people’s) worlds which we may not personally experience. It allows us to escape our reality, and return to it with new perspectives. If you can do that without the book, surely that must be a good thing!
Moving stinks, no two ways about it.
I am trying not to freak out about selling our house (which we listed tonight) in an oversaturated market. How in the world am I going to keep a house clean and ready to show with 3 little ones and my husband 4 states away? Maybe I need to start doing a little daydreaming of my own in order to stay somewhat sane.
Or maybe it’s too late already.
You panic ergo you rant. Smack! Wake up. You have to move. You can’t stay in Philly. I bet that once you get to your new digs you’ll hate it for 6 months and then start really liking it. Hopefully, it’s close enough to Philly for you get back there every so often.
The Universe is a vast impersonal unthinkably large and as near as dammit permanent entity to which we are a momentary irrelevance, and to which all our suffering and anxiety and hopes and fears are as fleeting as the passing of a mayfly, squashed on the windscreen of a cab in Manhattan.
That said, tomorrow is the first day of the rest of your life. You could do it. But would you really want to? Hire a long-term nanny for your children, go to the big smoke and sign up for a multinational doing their PR or corporate writing, work 14 hour days, 6 days a week?
Hmm.
R
In Terry Pratchett, there is a character called Sam Vimes who, his sargent reckons, is naturally two drinks short of sober. In other words, he’s knurd. I identify with this.
Reality is right there, sharp as knives, soft as butter. This is what awake sounds like. This is what it looks like. I am not in some fantasy world, pretending all is well. That would be sleeping. That would be the poisonous dream. What is better? To know that I’m unhappy and walk through it, talk through it, get out the other side? Or to pretend it will all be fine when right now it just isn’t.
What I write here is not the pretty answer to “how are you,” which is a foolish question anyway. This is the answer beneath the surface. It may be fine. In fact, it will be because I will make it fine, and not because the indifferent universe will create some fineness for me to fall into. Fine is only as fine as we make it. But right now it is NOT FINE. And I am fine with that.
Oh and Richard? I agree. I’d rather have my life. By a long shot. Whatever its challenges. Which is why it’s a fantasy.
It strikes me that part of the point of fantasy is something Custancia said, which is that it is an escape. But another part is that it helps you put your finger on what you think is lacking, where the frayed wires of your existence are. It can be a path towards fixing things, towards taking those elements of the dream which seem most important, and finding a way to put them into your real life.
“It strikes me that part of the point of fantasy is something Custancia said, which is that it is an escape. But another part is that it helps you put your finger on what you think is lacking, where the frayed wires of your existence are. It can be a path towards fixing things, towards taking those elements of the dream which seem most important, and finding a way to put them into your real life. “
Truer words were never spoken. It is fantasy that has helped me learn who I am, what I want, how to fix it, and how to get there. For the most part.
Oh yeah, and I’ve got a real estate fantasy too. Mostly because I am sick and tired of residing in apartments!
You’re familiar with the door and window concept? You know… when one door closes, a window of opportunity opens somewhere else…
Sad thing is, most of us are in between the door and window, and are just experiencing hell in the hallway while we’re looking for that window.
I feel your pain…
And who was your friend who actually dreamt of robbing banks with you? If you’ll remember, as I was waving the cordless drill/semiautomatic, I was telling the bank people to give the money to you.
Who loves you, Action Girl?
You can call me crying, screaming, laughing or resigned. I will listen like you have always listened to me. I am very much in denial about your move due to the fact that my current state only allows me to consider one event at a time, usually half an hour before said event.
Still, we love us our Francises. Don’t ever forget that.
pppsssststtt.. It’s lonley out here without you.
[Tumbleweed blows across the screen. UP MUSIC "The good, the bad the ugly".]
where are you? we miss your blog