Between a lover and a fighter
With my pen and my electric typewriter
Even in a perfect world where everyone was equal
I’d still own the film rights and be working on the sequel
–Elvis Costello/Every Day I Write The Book
One of the things that can get a what-iffer into trouble quickly is expectations. There’s not exactly a huge, gaping chasm between a daydream and an expectation. You’d think there might be, but no.
You start out what-iffing your way through an imaginary conversation, or an imaginary scenario, and those daydreams you what-iffify start to solidify. Yes, solidify. In your mind. Yes, that is what I mean to say. Solid thoughts.
Then your mind begins to think that those things exist. You expect them to happen. Maybe not consciously. Consciously, you know they’re just daydreams, wishes. Fictions. Unconsciously, though, they exist. I don’t know exactly how, but they do.
There is nothing more disappointing than post-whatif sexual disappointment. Uh. I hear.
On the other hand, when you wishHopeWhatIf something and it happens…
Even though there is no way it ever would? It makes you smile. All over. It’s a total surprise that isn’t a surprise at all.
Which is great. Except. Except that now your wishing brain thinks that what-iffing is like predicting the future. It is disappointing to be disappointed about something not happening as you imagined it, when it never existed except as a what-if.
A little imagination must be a great thing. A lot of imagination can be a challenge, especially combined with a penchant for drifting off into the ether.
I do love a good stare off into space.
Sorry, what were you saying?
I was just wondering about…something.
