Think it through

I thrive on goals. They give me something to focus my time, money and energy on. But it’s only after the goal is achieved that I gain perspective.

When I was a kid I was obsessed with K’nex sets, they were similar to Legos and Erector Sets but more complex and with small motors. I would build massive and complex model cranes and robots and when I was finished, I would flip the switch to confirm that my design worked.

Then I would stand back and bask in the sense of accomplishment.

That’s all.

The sets were fantastic because pieces from one kit could be used in another to make new things without any blueprints, pictures, or instructions to follow.

Within those gears and angular connectors there was a limitless creative outlet, but my work was done. I wasn’t going to even try to top what I had built, not until circumstances beyond my control forced me to pick up the pieces and do it again.

Whatever I made would sit there for months until one of my younger relatives got all jacked up on candy and smashed it in a fit of sugar-fueled hyperactivity. But until that happened, I wouldn’t take it apart to make something new.

Then the perspective would sink in. I would realize I spent an entire weekend in my room obsessively building a model, making sure every aspect was perfect instead of goofing off with my brother or doing more memorable things.

Fast forward from my childhood in the late 1990s to now.

For the last year I’ve been using my little dorm room TV set that doubled as my computer monitor when I was in college.

My living room is 14-by-20 feet, and that’s not counting the kitchen area that’s connected to it, so a 23-inch monitor just wasn’t going to hack it. A new goal was made.

For the last year I waited for the big holiday sales to buy a decent sized TV. I scrimped, saved and pinched every penny for the last six months or so until I finally got what I wanted.

I took it out of the box, plugged it in and confirmed that it worked. Then I stood back and basked in the sense of accomplishment.

Much like The Dude’s rug in “The Big Lebowski,” that TV pulled my apartment together. And in my wormy mind, it made the statement that I’ve got my ducks in a row and pretty much have this whole adulthood thing figured out.

That’s all.

The goal was achieved, mission accomplished, unlike when I moved here a year ago my possessions no longer fit inside two suitcases and a hiking bag. My place no longer looks like I’m just squatting.

Over the last week I’ve used the TV a few times to finish my “Parks and Recreation” binge, but for the most part it just sits there like the model cranes and robots I used to build as a kid.

This is when the perspective sunk in.

I didn’t want a TV, I wanted to feel like I’ve got a handle on life; and buying a TV was the easy way to do it, or so I thought. Camillia had the right idea in her column last week, I should have enjoyed the holiday instead of pouring over the holiday sale ads.

Like I previously said, I scrimped, saved and pinched every penny for about half a year to meet that goal. I didn’t go on any dates, hang out at the valley’s hot spots, throw any parties or do anything generous for the people in my life who definitely deserve it.

I should have spent that time, money and energy on that and not something materialistic and trivial.

On a larger scale, I wonder if the time, money and energy we are spending as a country will end in a satisfying achievement that we can collectively bask in, or will it end in a similar form of regret?