In my dreams…. I’m a guy that gets up super early, goes for a jog when it’s still dark out, comes home, puts on a pot of coffee, reads the paper, and gets ready for work before anybody else wakes up. Then I go to work, and arrive 30 minutes before start time, and meditates until it’s time to work.
In reality…… I hit the snooze button at least twice after my ‘drop dead’ time for waking up, and tear ass around to get ready on time. I only shave twice a week. I tell people it’s because of sensitive skin, but in reality it’s because I’m typically left to decide between shaving and being on time for work as the higher priority for the day.
In my dreams…. I’m the guy in the Grey Goose commercial who’s sailing his boat out on the ocean near icebergs, and wearing white pants while shucking oysters and drinking vodka on the rocks, not to get smashed, but because I’m sophisticated enough to know the difference between Grey Goose and any other Vodka, and I just drink that shit straight because I can, because I have a boat, and the people I hang out with are that slick, and we all tie sweaters around our necks.
In reality….. I can’t afford a boat and I’m scared of drowning. What gets me excited (and always has) is a pitcher of beer (not just any beer…. I do have SOME taste), and a plate of chicken wings, hanging out with my friends in the lowest common denominator of sports bars hopefully with some godforsaken Toronto sports team finally in the playoffs on a big screen TV. I’m pretty simple at end of the day.
In my dreams….. I’m well read. I have a vast library of books, and I like to curl up on a Sunday morning with a good book and read the day away while it rains outside and a kitten snuggles up beside me and purrs. Biographies, fiction, cookbooks, and self-help books (because in my dreams I’m always trying to get better) etc. A mind is a terrible thing to waste.
In reality……. If it’s longer than 3 paragraphs, good luck. I read blogs, but mainly because they’re short and I write blogs. I go to Chapters with my wife and buy a book on sale because it looks interesting, but I only read when I’m on a beach or an airplane, so most of those books have never been opened. The upside of this is that some people have commented that my writing style is original…. yeah no shit… I have no idea what it’s supposed to look like, so I just write like I talk. If I’d actually read a book, I’d probably try to write like an actual author. Sundays are spent napping on the couch in between football/basketball/baseball games on TV. I don’t like cats.
In my dreams….. I’m well-travelled. I’m the guy that was at the other table in the restaurant on Saturday, discussing the upcoming trip to Japan with his friends. He wasn’t Japanese though, he was just a guy that travels a lot. He spoke knowledgeably about what was there, and telling his friends where they could meet up and what they could do (because they both just happen to be going simultaneously, but not together??? I’d love to have that coincidence. ‘Oh, I’m gonna be in Japan next month… You too?? No way!!! We should meet up!!!). I would love to have a story to counter every travel story that someone told me. It would go like this..
Other person – Oh you should have seen how beautiful Amsterdam was blah blah blah
Me – I know…. I was there last week blah blah blah, and did way cooler stuff blah blah blah
In reality……. I go to Vegas a lot. Some of the hotels are designed to look like other places which I really appreciate, like Paris, New York New York, The Venetian. Now the upside is that I could totally write a Vegas tourism blog (there’s that idea again…. how do I manage to always work this in…. it’s only a matter of time before this becomes a real thing.) Otherwise, I watch some Anthony Bourdain shows and that’s about the extent of how cultured I am.
In my dreams…… I’m a rock star. I play all kinds of instruments effortlessly. I rock shows, make albums, even do session work for other famous artists. I appear in documentaries meant for the general public making a bunch of nerdy musical observations that only other musicians could hope to understand. I write tell all books about all the crazy hotel parties that I’ve been to, and name drop shamelessly.
In reality……. I borrowed my buddy’s guitar one time, and got a couple of books (which I don’t read) and DVDs meant to help me learn to play. I picked that thing up, and put my fingers in the (impossible) positions that represented basic chords, and realized ‘This hurts my fuckin hands!’