Imagine this: You have a year to do whatever you want. 365 days of free time. What would you do?
I thought long and hard about this question when I started reading “My Year of Rest and Relaxation” by Ottessa Moshfegh. The premise of the book is simple and relatable. Our unnamed character decides to hibernate for a year to sleep away her depression and wake up a new person. She is tired of the world. She has an inheritance that can allow her to sleep for a whole year in an apartment in Manhattan. And her routine is simple: take medication, sleep, lie to her therapist, obtain more medication, take it, watch movies, sleep, repeat.
Even though I have yet to finish the novel, I think about this question at least once a week. I think we all have a fantasy, a dream, of something we would love to do if only we just had the time to do it. If only we could run away for a year with a supply of money and just do it. So here’s what I would do.
To start off, I would get a cabin by a lake. Somewhere with lots of pretty trees and water and a small town nearby. I just need a grocery store, a coffee shop and a bookstore. I would be all set. Then, I would foster a dog. I’ve never had a dog before, but I’ve always wanted one. He can be my best friend.
Once I have that figured out, I would learn to cook. With so much time on my hands, I can try out new recipes and actually be good at cooking. I can learn all the ways to cut vegetables — brunoise, julienne, concasse. I can learn to make croissants or focaccia or use a hibachi grill. I can fulfill my childhood dreams of becoming a chef. And I would have ample time to clean up after.
Once I’ve made lunch and dinner and dessert, I would read all the books I’ve “never had time” to read and watch all the movies and TV shows I’ve put on my watchlist. I feel like we often talk about not having enough free time in the day to catch up on all the media we want to consume, so this would be my time to do just that. I could stay up all night binging “Criminal Minds” or “The Bear” because I won’t have to worry about anything the next day. I can finish a whole season in one day.
Then, once I’ve caught up on the world (and slept), I would get down to what I really want to do — write. This whole fantasy cropped up because I never felt like I had enough time to just write. Even though this is a very personal fantasy, I think everyone has something that they would love to do more of, if only they could just escape to a cabin by the lake and do it. So feel free to replace the verb write with whatever it is that your heart desires.
For me, I would write. I would write poems, essays, stories, novels. I would write poorly. I would write awful manuscripts and create the worst characters. Then I would improve. I would write every day or alternate between cooking and writing but I would really throw my all into it. Maybe by the end of the year I’ll be sick of writing and reading and cooking and TV, but at least I would feel rested? Fulfilled? Maybe or maybe not. I’m not sure what exactly I’m trying to say with this article, but I feel like there’s something heartfelt to be extracted from this scenario.
So ask yourself: If you had a year to do whatever you wanted to do, what would it be? Maybe we should all do that a bit more. Then maybe we wouldn’t be dreaming of having a whole year to do it.
