There's something incredibly underrated about having something to look forward to.
It doesn't have to be a vacation.
It doesn't have to cost a bunch of money.
It doesn't have to involve months of preparation or some meticulously organized itinerary.
Sometimes it's just knowing:
"I've got something coming up."
And somehow, an otherwise completely ordinary day gets a little bit better.
I've talked before about how I don't understand the idea of having your life scheduled so tightly that you eventually have to start scheduling your free time.
If your calendar is so packed that you need an appointment with yourself just to sit on the couch and do absolutely nothing, we've gone too far.
So this isn't me suddenly advocating for filling every empty square on the calendar.
Quite the opposite.
I like the empty squares.
I just also like looking a few squares ahead and seeing something that makes me smile.
Right now, I've actually got a few of those things sitting at different distances on the horizon.
I've got AEW Collision coming to Springfield on September 12.
It's not even five minutes away from me, I've already got the tickets, and I'm going with two of my friends.
There's really nothing left to plan.
We're going to wrestling.
That's basically it.
But I've been looking forward to it ever since I bought the tickets.
Every once in a while, I'll be doing something completely unrelated and my brain will remind me:
"Oh yeah. Collision is coming up."
And that's it.
Nothing about whatever I'm currently doing has changed.
I'm still at work.
I'm still driving somewhere.
I'm still doing some completely mundane task that needs to get done.
But for a second, that ordinary day just got a little bit better.
Because I've got something coming.
Then there's the Big E.
I've already bought three tickets, which means I'm going at least three times this year, and possibly more.
And if you've ever heard me talk about the Big E before, you know there's an entire food operation that comes along with this.
There's a list.
There are returning favorites.
There are new things I want to try.
There are things that look amazing until you realize eating the entire thing yourself might require medical supervision.
There's strategy involved here.
But even that isn't really about scheduling.
I'm not going to walk into the Big E with a clipboard and announce that at precisely 1:47 PM we must begin moving toward our next food destination.
That sounds miserable.
The list gives me possibilities.
Here's what looks good.
Here's where it is.
Here are the things I definitely don't want to miss.
And once we're actually there, we'll see where the day takes us.
But researching everything beforehand?
That's fun too.
The Big E hasn't even started yet, and I'm already getting enjoyment out of it.
And then, a little farther down the road, I've got a 16-day vacation coming in October.
That one has been sitting on the horizon for a while.
I do this every year because my birthday is in October.
I always make sure I take whichever week my birthday falls in, usually take the following week as well, and once you combine that with my regular days off on either side, I've suddenly created this glorious 16-day stretch where work and I temporarily agree to stop seeing each other.
And yes, obviously I'm looking forward to my birthday.
But here's another interesting part about anticipation:
I don't even know everything I'm looking forward to yet.
There are people a couple of hours away on the other side of the state that I'd love to visit.
There are other people who are technically a couple of states away that I could potentially make a trip to see.
There could be some day trips.
There are people I'd like to catch up with.
There are probably things I'll think of between now and then that aren't even on my radar yet.
None of those plans are actually plans right now.
They're possibilities.
And somehow, I'm looking forward to those too.
That's something I don't think we give anticipation enough credit for.
Sometimes you're looking forward to a specific event.
The tickets are purchased, the date is on the calendar, and you know exactly where you're going to be.
Other times, you're looking forward to simply having the opportunity to decide.
I've got 16 days.
What am I going to do with them?
Who am I going to see?
Where am I going to go?
I don't know yet.
And that's part of the fun.
I don't need to sit down right now and assign an activity to every single day.
In fact, that would defeat the entire purpose for me.
Some of those days might end up being completely spontaneous.
Some might be spent with friends.
Some might involve driving a couple hours somewhere.
And some might involve waking up with absolutely nothing on the schedule and keeping it that way.
All of those are viable options.
The thing I'm looking forward to isn't just the plans.
It's having the time and freedom to make them.
There's something exciting about looking at an empty stretch of calendar when the emptiness is intentional.
Those aren't 16 days waiting to be filled.
They're 16 days of possibilities.
At the beginning of the year, October might as well have been another geological era.
"I've got vacation in October."
Great.
See you in 700 years.
But then winter ended.
Spring came and went.
Summer showed up.
And now suddenly it's September.
October isn't "later this year" anymore.
It's next month.
And there's something satisfying about watching something you've been looking forward to slowly change its distance from you.
"Later this year."
Becomes:
"A few months from now."
Then:
"Next month."
Eventually it'll be:
"A couple weeks."
Then:
"Next week."
And finally:
"I'm on vacation after Thursday."
It's the same vacation every step of the way.
But somehow each one feels a little different.
I think that's because anticipation changes depending on how far away something is.
Something happening tomorrow gives you that immediate excitement.
Something happening in a few weeks occasionally pops into your head and gives you something to smile about.
Something months away becomes this little landmark on the horizon that you periodically check your distance from.
And here's the thing:
I don't think any of that means you're wishing your life away.
We hear all the time that we need to "live in the moment," and I completely agree with the sentiment behind that.
You shouldn't spend your entire life saying:
"I'll be happy when..."
I'll be happy when Friday gets here.
I'll be happy when I'm on vacation.
I'll be happy when summer comes.
I'll be happy when I retire.
If you're constantly treating today like an obstacle standing between you and tomorrow, eventually you're going to realize that you spent an awful lot of your life waiting for your life to start.
But I don't think enjoying today and looking forward to tomorrow are mutually exclusive.
You can do both.
I don't have to want Wednesday to disappear just because I'm excited about Saturday.
Wednesday can be a perfectly good Wednesday.
But now Wednesday also gets this:
"Three more days."
That's not wishing Wednesday away.
That's letting Wednesday borrow a little happiness from Saturday.
And I think that's one of the reasons having things to look forward to matters so much.
They don't even have to be big things.
Maybe you're going out to eat Friday.
Maybe you're bowling tomorrow.
Maybe a movie you've wanted to see comes out next week.
Maybe you're getting together with somebody this weekend and the entire plan consists of:
"Come over Saturday. We'll figure something out."
That's still something on the horizon.
In fact, sometimes the plans that barely qualify as plans are some of the best ones.
You don't need an itinerary.
You don't need every hour accounted for.
You don't need to know exactly what you're going to be doing.
Sometimes all you need is to know that there's something coming that you're happy about.
Because when you really think about it, the actual event is only one part of the experience.
There's looking forward to it.
There's experiencing it.
And then there's looking back on it.
We tend to give all the credit to the middle.
A concert might last three hours.
A vacation might last a week.
Dinner with your friends might last an evening.
But maybe you looked forward to that concert for three months.
Maybe that vacation periodically made you smile for half a year before you ever packed a suitcase.
Maybe somebody texted the group chat on Tuesday about dinner Saturday and suddenly you were looking forward to the weekend.
And then afterward, you have the memories.
So something that technically occupied only a few hours on your calendar managed to bring you happiness before it happened, while it was happening, and long after it was over.
That's a pretty good return on investment.
But there's another side to having something on the horizon.
Sometimes it's not something that's about to begin.
Sometimes it's something that's about to end.
I've been using my summer bowling pass since May 14, and at this point it has become so ingrained in my routine that I barely even think about it anymore.
For the past few months, if I've got some free time and feel like bowling, I go bowling.
Four games.
Sometimes four or five days a week.
It's just what I do.
But the summer pass ended on September 1st.
And suddenly, something I've been doing routinely since May has an expiration date that has now passed.
I'm not going to stop bowling, obviously.
I'll still go on weekends.
I'll still go every now and then when I feel like it.
But four games, four or five days a week?
That's about to disappear from my routine until next May at the earliest.
And knowing that has made these last few trips to the bowling alley feel a little different.
I'm appreciating them more.
There's something strange about how quickly something can go from feeling special to simply feeling normal once it becomes part of your routine.
I've had this pass for months.
At this point, going out and bowling four games doesn't feel like some special occasion.
It's Tuesday.
I'm going bowling.
See you later.
But as soon as you know there are only a few Tuesdays left, suddenly you notice them again.
That's another thing the horizon can give us.
Perspective.
Sometimes seeing something good approaching makes today a little better.
But sometimes seeing the end of something approaching reminds you that today is already something good.
And maybe that's another reason we shouldn't always be afraid of things ending.
Obviously, there are things we'd love to keep forever.
But sometimes knowing something is temporary is exactly what stops us from taking it for granted.
The last few days of a vacation feel different from the first few.
The final weeks of summer feel different.
The last game of a season feels different.
You know the routine is about to change, so you become a little more aware of the routine while you're still living it.
That's where I am with bowling right now.
Something that has been completely normal since May is about to stop being normal.
So I'm going to enjoy these last few four-game trips while I've got them.
I'll throw the strikes.
I'll throw the spares.
I'll probably leave a 7-pin and stare at it like it has personally wronged me.
And I'll enjoy every minute of it.
Because sometimes having something on the horizon gives you something to look forward to.
And sometimes it turns you around and reminds you to appreciate what you've already got.
And maybe that's ultimately what I enjoy about having something on the horizon.
I don't need every day to be exciting.
Honestly, I don't want every day to be exciting.
There's absolutely nothing wrong with an ordinary Tuesday being an ordinary Tuesday.
But it's nice when Tuesday occasionally reminds you:
"Hey. You've got something good coming."
And it's equally nice when Tuesday reminds you:
"Hey. You've got something good right now, too."
Right now, I've got a few of those things.
Some are close enough that I'm practically there.
In fact, my friend just invited me to a comedy show next Thursday, and now I get to look forward to that now as well.
Some are a few weeks down the road.
The Big E will be here before I know it, and I'm sure I'll have a whole blog entry talking about every single food adventure that happens,
Some have been sitting on the horizon since the beginning of the year and are finally starting to look a whole lot closer.
My October vacation gets just a little bit closer as each day passes.
Some haven't even taken shape yet.
They're just possibilities waiting for me to decide what I want to do with them.
And some are things I'm already enjoying that I know won't be around forever.
I'm going to enjoy the things that are coming when they get here.
I'm going to appreciate the things that are here while I've got them.
And I'm going to enjoy the road between all of it.
Because you don't have to rush toward something to enjoy watching it get closer.
You don't have to dislike where you're standing just because you're excited about where you're going.
And sometimes seeing the finish line in the distance is exactly what makes you stop and appreciate the stretch of road you're currently on.
You certainly don't need your calendar filled from beginning to end.
Sometimes it's enough to have a few empty squares...
and something on the horizon.
Until next week!
