I find myself lost in my head most days. I dream about a new house...a quint buttercream-yellow farmhouse, big red barn and about 80 acres to roam on sounds about right. Then there's the job...artistic director of an art center that encourages emerging artists and provides an outlet for consumption of their artistic endeavors or maybe a business writer, feeding the consumer machine with eloquent words partnered with the greatest of ease or maybe an artist myself, painting and pasting bits of forgotten trinkets together to create something useful and beautiful. Oh, and don't forget an organic farmer, working the land to make a living with my hands.

"So," you say, "What's wrong with dreaming?" Nothing, of course. Unless it takes over reality to the point that you never actually pursue these dreams.

My head world is not idyllic. It has problems like worrying about financing my aspirations, contemplating how long it will take to get to where I want to end up, and on and on.

So, I read. Voraciously. Okay, excessively. And thus, my point: I read about everything I dream about so I never actually do anything about them. I want a beautiful garden, so I read about lovely gardens. I want a swanky nest, so I devour home magazines. I'd like to write more, so I read about writing. And on it goes.

I have finally reached a turning point in my life. My mission is clear: do. This does not mean giving up dreaming or reading. But it does mean setting goals, and following the path toward them. Then, in the end, while everything may not turn out as rosy as it is in my mind, I will actually be experiencing life instead of just reading about it.