I like to imagine.

I like to imagine a world the way I think it should be. I’m a perpetual dreamer. I look at things the way they are and then think about the way they should be. Sometimes, I write down what I imagine and hope others will discover my wisdom. I imagine a big celebration on the day my dreams are accepted by the masses.

But, now, gentle readers (Do I dare call you gentle readers? That’s been done before.) So, now fellow bloggers, I ask you to indulge me as I share my favorite hobby. Please. Join me, and let’s imagine together.

Imagine Fridays becoming days to celebrate learning. Picture it: each week ends with a lively festival of knowledge. Imagine. Imagine a world where the pursuit of wisdom is met with excitement and enthusiasm, and classrooms transform into playgrounds of endless discovery. Just imagine.

What if we all chose to free ourselves from our electronic ball and chains. What if, instead, we all embraced the historical habit of walking? And talking. Face to face. Streets would transform into bustling avenues of friendship, where each step brings us closer to healing the world’s heartbeat. Hushed conversations would replace the honks and hums of engines, and nature’s song would return to center stage. Imagine traffic jams a distant memory. Imagine the only road rage a playful race to the ice cream truck. Imagine.

What if we unanimously decided to turn off the anger that seems to be broadcast from every corner of our lives? Imagine. Kindness, understanding, and empathy would fill our drought-stricken rivers and flow freely, drowning out conflict’s discordant noises. Imagine that. Laughter is contagious, and smiles would replace scowls. Imagine a reality where debates are settled with reason and political rallies are just massive potlucks where everyone brings their favorite dish and ideas to share? I’d vote for that.

The world I imagine is a world where boundaries of reality blur, a world where hope takes root and blooms, and a world where wildest dreams can flourish into a sweet reality of tomorrow. I believe that, some day, we might be celebrating our discoveries and our dreams on a Friday, strolling towards a world where anger fades into spectacular sunsets, and sharing our neighbors sweetest ambitions. Imagine. And to think, we got through this dream sequence without a single John Lennon quote, though I’m sure he’d be proud of our imaginative endeavors!

Welcome the party no one wants to attend. Picture it: me, penniless, just like Job of Old, in a world that is unprepared for my destitute, disrobed debut. Nobody wants to see that, especially me, exposed in this wild modern life!

So, in order to tackle this dilemma, let’s break down my three-pronged strategy for dealing with this “Naked, Not-Yet-Famous, and Very Afraid” mess:

Prong 1: Clothe the Naked

To begin, I need some simple threads. Sure, naked I came into this world, and naked I shall leave, but in the meantime, nobody should be threatened with that much exposure. Did I already mention that? Thankfully, we are blessed with a variety of local thrift stores. At each location, I’ll bargain a deal: a Hawaiian shirt paired, plaid pants, slippers, and socks, in exchange for me channeling the vibe of a fashion-forward influencer on their social media channels. If I can’t be rich, I might as well offer my fashion emergency for marketing clicks. Business owners are always willing to make deals like this, right? Right?

I could become the latest TikTok trend. Just like those guys who provide fashion tips for clicks. I could be the next Effortless Chap, Dapper Daniel, or Clotheshorse Cal. Oh, oh, oh, I’d need to throw in some glow up tips, so maybe I should talk with a gym to secure regular soapy showers.

Prong 2: House the Houseless

Next, my compelling sitcom or reality show pitch: “Lost Stuff, Found Shipping Container.” Once again, it begins with me, broke and stark naked in a world of excess. Nobody wants to see that, especially not me, and I’ve already become a somewhat famous social media thrift store star.

I’d again use my negotiating skills to snag two shipping containers. Then, I’d gather discarded styrofoam for insulation and scavenge other materials to construct a trendy tiny house just outside the toniest landfill. I’d plant daffodils and daisies on my rooftop garden. The internet would document my transformation, and it’d go viral, collecting clicks and a bit of cash along the way.

It’s wild. It’s all about negotiating, about scavenging, and about riding the internet wave. Since life handed me lemons in this scenario, I might as well make a trendy, viral shipping container lemonade stand.

Prong 3: Feed the Hungry

So, I’ve sort of conquered the fashion and shipping container scene, but what about sustenance? A once-naked gardener can’t thrive on clicks alone!

I might begin by employing my social charm to become a connoisseur of free samples, but cheese cubes and pretzel bites won’t sustain in the long run. Back up on my rooftop garden, I’d cultivate a colorful medley of veggies: heirloom tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers that put on a real show and combine for a rather tasty gazpacho, by the way. Let’s not forget a few berry bushes – strawberries tumbling over the sides and raspberries big enough to make a supermarket blush. Throw in some zucchinis ready to conquer the world, and I’ve got the happiest of garden adventures. Who says I can’t be an urban farmer cultivating life-sustaining veggies and berries?

My three-pronged survival strategy for this woeful soul who’s lost it all includes dressing in the finest thrift store finds, building my shipping container kingdom, and becoming the finest rooftop gardener. After all, if life insists on delivering lemons, I might as well find a way to enjoy the lemonade.