The Art of Baking Pies

December 4, 2015
7 min. read

Daydreaming is a vice of mine—it always has been ever since I was a kid. It was rare that I gave my undivided attention to school unless I loved the subject or was desperately trying to raise a failing grade. More times than not, you'd find me physically present but mentally engulfed in my little fantasy land wishing I was somewhere far from a dull classroom. Several years into my adulthood, nothing much has changed except the location of my daydreaming. If anyone told me while growing up that being a working adult mostly entailed doing things I didn't care about, I would've chosen to live on a deserted island and build sand castles for the rest of my life.

At this stage of my life, I've lost count of how many times I've sat at my desk thinking about why the hell I'm even there. What's the point? Why am I spending 8 hours of my day devoting time to something that holds no significance to me? As I work through mundane tasks, I imagine myself being successful at what I really want to do and feeling fantastic about my nonexistent achievements. Sometimes I'll be on autopilot for hours thinking about my imaginary future and creating the ideal plot for my life. On the occasion when I see other people's achievements, my inner monologue concludes, "That's going to be me, too, one day." Then I go home, do miscellaneous things, go to bed, wake up the next morning and do it all over again.

Do you see the problem with this picture? How the hell am I going to achieve this utopian dream if I'm not even DOING anything about it? The more daydreaming I did, the more I couldn't ignore how often I was creating these illusions in order to ease my discontent of reality. The thought of actually doing something to change the situation always put me in a state of uncertainty and fear. What did I have to offer? Why would anybody care? People would probably think my ideas are stupid. The concepts in my head were plentiful but I'd always talk myself out of pursuing any of them before a plan could be formulated. Other times, I would build out an idea but never see it through completion. I was (and still am) a serial entrepreneur—except 90% of everything I did never saw the light of day. It's like someone who keeps making pies but never ends up putting them in the oven. If there was a Guinness World Record for the person with the highest number of unbaked, moldy pies, I'd win that title by a landslide.

So, what should one do to escape this pattern? Well, I think the key word here is 'do' and I haven't been doing a damn thing to improve the situation except trying to magically think myself out of it. It wasn't until I began writing this post that I had a giant epiphany. Looking back on each unfinished project, I realized they all had one thing in common: none of them completely represented me. Each project exhibited different aspects of my character but none of them fully portrayed who I was. The clothing line I developed reflected my desire to unite humanity and connect to people, the design business I was planning to launch showcases my design knowledge, the cat cafe I dreamed of owning was rooted in an obsession with animals, the Etsy store I opened with handmade notebooks showed off my creativity; and all the other various ideas that didn't make the cut only illustrated a fraction of me—that's probably why I never fully committed to them. For a while now I've wanted to create a space that is a platform for my interests, experiences, inspirations and creativity. The idea was pushed aside because I'd think websites like this were a dime a dozen so how would my contribution of the same thing make a difference?

Journalist and Essayist, Barbara Grizzuti Harrison summed it up perfectly:

There are no original ideas. There are only original people.

This was a revelation for me. One can study and execute the skills of masters but the results will never be an exact carbon copy. Implementing your unique vision and utilizing your particular abilities is what creates a distinct separation from others and makes an idea original—and untouchable. Pure imitation is not humanly possible because no one can gain entry into your internal creativity and processes; in other words: your individuality cannot be stolen. Having this in mind is how I was able to push through so many doubts about creating this website. All the content I've contributed—and plan to contribute—is an authentic depiction of who I am and what I have to offer to the world. My daydreaming days are far from over, however, I'm learning to supplement it with the freedom to pursue all of my free form ideas and curiosities. There's still so much to discover but one thing is certain: This platform is the most fulfilling pie I've made, and instead of leaving it out to mold, I'm going to bake the hell out of it.

& Awards