I live for fantasy. Not like “ogres, fairies, and dragons” fantasy (although I can get into that too, LOTR anybody?) but the fantasy that I create in the vast and frightening world that is my brain. For as long as I can remember I’ve straddled the make-believe world in my head and the real world. As a kid it made playing by myself a survivable experience, which was a good thing given the fact that most of my playtime was in solitude. In fact, I would argue that as a kid I actually preferred the solo world of imagination. Very few kids could understand why I was both a ninja AND a rock that made goat noises. As an adult, the fantasies have changed but my capacity to concoct them has not.

This perma state of not-really-here-but-kinda-here-but-actually-in-my-head has been both a blessing and a curse. It’s a blessing because it’s kept my creativity in infinite supply well into adulthood. My internal fake world has no limits and anything is possible thus I can make/do/be anything at any time. It’s why I was drawn to a career in the arts (can we call it a career if I make no money and only do it occasionally with varying degrees of success?). It’s also why I’m so funny. I simply put words in a weird order with nonsensical vocal inflections and people laugh. That’s legitimately the trick to being funny. Try it!

As I’ve gotten older, the nature of the fantasies has become more grown up. This is where the whole “curse” thing happens. My brain is constantly grappling with what could be and can be. I’m no longer a rock ninja who makes goat noises but I’m an actor who’s a real estate agent who’s an opera singer who’s a personal trainer who’s a novelist who’s a reiki master who’s a woodworker. That’s all well and good to fantasize about those things but there’s an issue. I actually follow through with this shit.

It always starts the same. It’s a small kernel of an idea. A spark. A moment. It feels like a bolt of electricity flashes through me. I feel like the gods above are speaking directly to the marrow in my bones. “Web developer” is what they’re whispering.

Then comes the meditation phase. Some may call it the obsession phase. I feed that little spark daily. I latch onto the idea and it latches onto me. Bit by bit I fuel it with gasoline. Pretty soon I’ve fantasized the hell out of that kernel until it is a great fiery all-consuming inferno. In my head I’m already a successful web developer making a great living. This living allows me to travel the world. I finally visit Ireland, which totally exceeds my expectations. I even buy a house. It’s not anything too fancy, maybe just a townhome in a great neighborhood. I can also afford to see the chiropractor regularly. Maybe I even start working with a nutritionist so I can see my ab (singular) that I know is hiding under sheets of fat. I set my own hours and work from home. Sometimes I get too distracted at home so I have to go to a coffee shop in order to focus. The coffee shop is probably walking distance from my modest but comfortable townhome. Oh, and I have business cards!

Once I’m sufficiently meditated and have become a full-blown web developer in my fantasy, I get down to the research phase. Customarily this starts with a Google search “How to become a web developer.” Sometimes I’ll just dive right in with “Average web developer income.” Then I usually follow up with “What does a web developer do” just to double check that I’m looking at the right thing because how embarrassing would it be if I ended up in the wrong career just because I thought a web developer did one thing but they actually did something completely different?!

Once the idea has been thoroughly Googled and researched then comes action. This phase usually involves the following things 1) schooling/certification/licensure and 2) an exchange of money. During the research phase, I planned out exactly how to become a web developer all while sitting on my ass. This usually looks like online classes. They’re cheaper than going to a real school and I wouldn’t need to put on pants. Done.

I sign up. They take my money. I justify it because it’s “an investment.” Nobody panic. I’ll just pick up more shifts at the restaurant. I can go to school while working 70 hours a week. People do it all the time. It’ll be worth it once I’m making $86, 832 a year (according to the internet).

Once registered, I begin the grueling process of studying something I have quite literally no interest in. It’s okay because I can plow through just about anything. The end goal remains the same: townhome, chiropractor, coffee shop, $86, 832. I constantly remind myself that I’ve been through way more difficult things than this silly online class(es).

Pretty soon the process becomes painfully long. It gets tiresome. I lose faith in my mission and my motivation comes in waves. I constantly have to remind myself why I’m here and that this originally started when the gods themselves whispered some bullshit in my bone marrow or whatever.

After weeks/months/years of grinding my way through the class, the big moment finally arrives. The test. There’s usually a big push at the end because I procrastinated on all the necessary studying. The test is typically pass-fail and instantly determines whether I get the certification/license/dream. It’s highly dramatic and highly dreaded. Pure theatrics. I’m sick with nerves. I’ve cleared my schedule for the week. Friends and family send me good luck texts. My mom has me on every prayer list she’s ever been on (which is to say, a lot).

Boom! I pass! Thank the gods!! It was all worth it. Every moment of struggle and pain and stress has paid off. I’m now a licensed/certified/official web developer. Every single one of my dreams is now coming true. I set my mind to something and I accomplished it. I sit in my car and giggle as one lone tear of joy rolls down my cheek. Go me! I win!

This is usually where my fantasy-that-somehow-became-real-life-because-I’m-impulsive-and-unrealistic spirals into a waking nightmare. Web development?! Really?! How did this happen? How did we get here? I hate technology. How do I get clients? Where can I get a job? This is so grown up. Help! Let’s just get drunk and not think about it. Erase erase erase. No you can do this. This is your dream. Wait. No it’s not. You’re an actor. You’re an artist. You always have been. Web development isn’t acting. Tears. Coffee with friends. More tears. Why did I do this? This isn’t right. How do I get out? Ghost. Ghost the hell out of there. If anyone asks I’m happy I got my certification or whatever but I’ve decided to pursue other things right now. Shame. Silence. White elephant in the room. Continue waiting tables. Wait for the gods to whisper some new stuff.

So let’s recap the 7 steps to turn any fantasy into reality:

1. Spark
2. Meditation
3. Research
4. Action
5. Schooling
6. Certification
7. Ghosting

I would like to say this is merely anecdotal but unfortunately I’ve gathered a lot of empirical evidence to support this. It has happened with every single “new life plan” I’ve concocted. To be fair, they don’t all die the same death at the same time. Some will crash and burn earlier in the process. “Web developer” actually died during step 2 when my sister (I won’t say which one) reminded me that I can barely use my phone and I have zero patience. “Woodworker” died in step 3. Reiki master, massage therapist, and life coach all died somewhere between Spark and Schooling. “Opera singer” died in step 5. The two doozies were personal training and real estate. They both met their end in an epic, highly melodramatic, largely pathetic instance of Ghosting.

So what’s the lesson here?

I’m not entirely sure there is one. It would be easy to look at this mountain of half-assed career attempts and wallow in the shame that I’ve failed every single one of them. To be honest, that’s how I see them on my weaker days. But there’s another way to see it. Over the last decade, I’ve accumulated a massive amount of experiences and knowledge. What I lack in depth I make up for in breadth. I’ve tried on lots of different hats and used my life as a canvass. As cliché as that might sound I can’t help but think that this mountain of hats and experiences and whimsy and knowledge and failures and new starts and discoveries will make me a better artist and actor and human. At the end of the day, that feels like a pretty good consolation prize.