Emily Timbol

Fiction Author. Good at making stuff up.

Also, an Island Named “Pangea”


I have always had a really active fantasy life. I don’t know if it’s undiagnosed ADD or the side affect of being an avid reader, but ever since I was a kid I’ve been a frequent daydreamer. It seems that whenever I am left with my thoughts, I find myself fantasizing about conversations I’d never have and situations that I’d never be in (if I had a dollar for every time daydream Emily published a best-selling novel, I’d have enough money to make believe retire.) You should know how relieved I was when they invented those blue tooth phone thingies – not because I wanted or used one, but because now when I’m talking to myself in the car, I don’t look like a crazy person. Of course, it’s not like I’m having an actual conversation with myself mind you, it’s myself talking with the people in my imaginary fantasies. Talking to myself would be crazy, that’s what texting is for, duh. 

Once I discovered boys, my little mental fantasies started to center on my crush of the moment telling me how awesome, funny, smart, cute, and original I was and how much he wanted to buy me a puppy.Since these daydreams weren’t exactly “bodice rippers”, if you catch my drift, I never really thought there was anything wrong with them, until a good friend of mine pointed out how unhealthy it was to create entirely false versions of real people that were in my life. Because of course, my guy friends who I crushed on never did actually want to buy me puppies (or think I was cute-bastards) and I would inevitably spend most of the time after I left them feeling dejected and disappointed. Of course I didn’t stop though, because I was lonely, and imaginary boyfriends were better than no boyfriends.

Then I met Ryan, my 100% not imaginary boyfriend. Over the past year (our one year anniversary is Saturday) I have learned- the hard way- that unhealthy fantasies are absolutely 100% bad for you. See, as amazing as Ryan is, he is never going to be as wonderful as the make believe Ryan in my head who surprises me every day with flowers and Starbucks coffee and knows exactly what I am thinking and want all the time. And the more time I spent with imaginary Ryan, the angrier I got at real Ryan for not being his make believe doppelganger. Confused yet? He sure was. Like most great revelations, it just dawned on me one day that I was being an idiot and jeopardizing a relationship with a real, living, breathing, Old Spice Body Wash using man who loved me, for a fantasy that was completely and totally selfish and frankly, unimaginative. Because really, who wants to be with someone that they can totally figure out, because they only live for you? Surprisingly, not me. So I got over it.


I still have a really hard time not fantasizing when it comes to the other areas of my life. It’s kind of like people who quit addictions. Alcoholics become chain smokers, smokers become compulsive eaters, compulsive eaters become smokers, and so on and so forth. I (mostly) kicked the habit of fantasizing about the perfect boyfriend, and moved onto fantasizing about getting a book deal. And an interview on Oprah’s last episode. And a movie of my book where I am played by Rachel Weisz. And a gorgeous Frank Wright house in Seattle, And now I forgot what I was talking about. Oh right, fantasies are bad.

Like most things in life however, I think that something is only “bad” when you abuse it (except heroin, never a good idea to do heroin.) Fantasies in themselves are not bad, as long as they do not consume you and you can see them for what they are – make believe. So in the spirit of this self-revelation, and because it’s late, I’m tired, and I really don’t know how to wrap this blog post up, I’m going to share with you the ten things I fantasize about doing when I dream about winning the Lottery. Which, the broker I get, I seem to be doing more often. Because really, who doesn’t want to win the Lottery, and hasn’t thought about what they would buy? 

If I won millions of dollars in the lottery I would…..
1) Pay off all my, my parents, and my families (except that aunt I don’t like) debts.
2) Buy a house that overlooks mountains with lots and lots windows and built in book shelves that has an ice machine that makes pellet ice, like the kind in Sonic drinks. I LOVE pellet ice.
3) Start a grant program for families that wanted to adopt but could not afford all the costs. 
4) Take myself and a few friends on a crazy clothes shopping spree in NYC.
5) Travel to Europe, Asia, Australia, Africa, and Iceland. Screw you Canada!
6) Sign over, in a legally binding irreversible contract, 90% of the money to be given to charity. Appoint someone else to be in charge of giving the money away, anonymously. I am way too selfish and attention seeking to be trusted to do this.
7) Go into a Barnes and Noble and buy all the books I want.
8) Write, write, write, write, and more writing. Winning the lottery would definitely help me get people to read my writing.
9) Adopt some kids
10) Tip every waitress or waiter 80%, every time I went out to eat. Unless they were jerks. Bad tippers suck.

What about you? What would you use the money on?

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