Thinking on the past and future are different activities so it’s hard to compare them in this way. The past is content. The past is fixed events to review and draw conclusions from. The future is fantasy – it doesn’t exist.

So do I spend more time reminiscing/regretting or planning/wishing? I’d like to say I keep a healthy balance of remembering to hope, regretting to avoid, and studying to plan.

But I think I spend the bulk of my time with my mind dreaming. Some dreams are tangible, others are for entertainment purposes only. I imagine myself in situations I’ve never shown the resolve it would take to be in.

I imagine myself thinner. I imagine myself more confident and patient. I have complete conversations with the men I’ve loved where things go… differently. I imagine my writing is discovered on a poorly maintained, low-traffic blog and I’m approached by Netflix for their next blockbuster rom-com.

I imagine red carpet walks with my best friend at the premiere of my latest movie. I imagine boldly representing myself in the office of some Hollywood hot-shot over royalties and my expectations and how I won’t take a penny less than some exorbitant amount of money for my masterpiece.

The things that I imagine typically lead to me remembering why those things are so out of reach. I remember that I don’t communicate well verbally until I’m yelling and crying. That I stutter and shake until I break down. I remember that I push most men away because I don’t want things to get good enough to hurt when it’s over.

I remember that I’m too scared to publish my poetry traditionally so I’ve only pushed small-batch, self-published projects that fall short because I can’t market myself because on most days I don’t know my worth.

I remember that I haven’t been able to finish a book or a screenplay because I’m terrified of submitting it and being rejected.

Then I regret that I let any of those things stop me.

Then I hope I can turn it around with my plans and resolutions. I start setting lofty goals to “write something every day” or “be more active” and I’m so excited that I wear myself out and I need a nap.

So, I guess what I’m saying is I don’t know. I do know for sure that I spend way more time thinking than doing.

This is a cumbersome question. I enjoy giving gifts but I’m weird about receiving them. I don’t like event or holiday gifts.

My first thoughts were material, but I couldn’t think of anything readily enough to be the greatest. Then I got corny – requited unconditional love and such.

But what quantifies greatness in a gift?

Is it the needing or the wanting? The novelty or the significance? The surprise or the anticipation? The pomp or the circumstance? Maybe all of these.

I imagine I wouldn’t be able to say before receiving it. If I had to say, it would need to evoke emotion. Possibly bring me joy.

Then my logic steps in and requests that it be a practical size for storage or safe keeping. Is it consumable or flammable? Did you include batteries?

A keepsake maybe? No. A memory.

A joyful core memory. Doesn’t matter what it is as long as I can turn to it and revisit the rush of serotonin. Some are epic while some are just so silly. But they all count the same.

The greatest gift someone could give me will probably be a knock knock joke I’ll overhear from the next table at a restaurant. Or the time my then 1 year old son threw up after I farted. There were real tears.

Make me laugh, make me cry – make me angry – just make it count.