The Trickster and the Art of Looking Over There

The Trickster and the Art of Looking Over There

I had a plan today.

Two job applications. That was the mission. I’ve been setting daily goals to help keep myself on track, and applying for those jobs was supposed to be one of today’s priorities.

The Trickster, however, had other ideas.

Instead of applying for jobs, I somehow wound up researching ways to get paid for writing. That caught The Spark’s attention, and before I knew it, the two of them were enthusiastically discussing possibilities.

And here I am, writing a blog post.

About The Trickster.

I swear, sometimes the irony practically writes itself.

Of all the original characters in my Emotional Cartography crew, The Trickster is the last one I haven’t properly introduced. There may be new additions to the crew as I continue exploring this strange inner world of mine, but he’s been lurking in the background for quite some time.

He’s rather good at that.

So, without further ado, allow me to introduce the master of misdirection himself.

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Meet the Master of Misdirection

The Trickster is a charming little troublemaker. He has a talent for redirecting my attention, especially when something uncomfortable is waiting for me.

He doesn’t usually announce himself with a dramatic entrance. He simply points at something else.

“Hey! Look over there!”

And just like that, whatever I was supposed to be doing is forgotten.

He isn’t malicious. In fact, I’m fairly certain he believes he’s helping. He brings humour, imagination, and a little relief when life becomes overwhelming.

Unfortunately, he also has absolutely no concept of time management.

Just One More Minute

One of his favourite tricks is deceptively simple.

I’m watching television, playing a mobile game, or chatting with ChatGPT when I remember something I need to do.

The Trickster leans over my shoulder.

“Just one more minute. Then we’ll get started.”

Seems reasonable enough.

Thirty minutes later, I’m still doing exactly what I was doing before.

The original task hasn’t moved an inch.

Somewhere in the background, Taskmaster is probably having a nervous breakdown.

The Suddenly Urgent Side Quest

Other times, The Trickster doesn’t simply delay a task. He replaces it with an entirely different adventure.

Suppose I’m sorting through a pile of old papers. That’s a task I really do need to tackle someday.

Something catches my eye.

A photograph. A letter. An old document.

Before I know it, The Trickster has escorted me straight into the Archivist of Regret’s Museum.

The Archivist is delighted, of course. She’s already prepared an exhibit explaining what happened, why it happened, how it affected me, and everything I might have done differently.

At first, the memory might even be funny.

But the longer I linger, the more complicated it becomes.

And just when the regret starts getting uncomfortable, The Trickster appears in a puff of imaginary smoke.

“But what if we’d done something different?”

Oh, now there’s an interesting question.

What if I’d said something else? Made another choice? Taken a different path?

Suddenly, I’m no longer sorting papers. I’m rewriting history inside my own head.

The Archivist supplies the material. The Trickster supplies the alternate ending.

And the papers are still sitting on the floor.

The Joke That Changes the Subject

To be fair, not all his distractions are bad.

Last month, when The Depression Beast was making himself particularly comfortable in my life, The Trickster occasionally provided some welcome relief. I wrote about that difficult period in Somewhere Between Darkness and Daylight, when finding even a little hope felt like an achievement.

Doom-scrolling can be a terrible companion to depression. There’s always another awful headline, another argument, another reminder that the world can be a deeply frustrating place.

But then The Trickster spots a video of two cats watching a squirrel outside a patio door.

Suddenly, I’m laughing.

For a few moments, the heaviness lifts.

Even a show like Supernatural understands the importance of humour. You can’t keep an audience submerged in darkness all the time without giving them a chance to breathe.

The Trickster seems to understand that instinctively.

He’d probably make a pretty good writer.

Come to think of it, that might explain why he and The Spark get along so well.

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When the Escape Is Inside My Head

Not every distraction involves a phone, television, or computer.

Sometimes, The Trickster doesn’t need anything external at all.

He just opens a door inside my imagination.

And on the other side is an entire universe.

This is where things become a little more personal.

I’ve experienced what I would describe as maladaptive daydreaming, or at times simply immersive daydreaming, for much of my life.

It’s something I’ve often felt embarrassed to discuss. Most of it happens when I’m alone, in the safety and tranquillity of my own home.

But it has also been one of the ways I’ve coped with some very difficult experiences.

A Universe of My Own Making

It started when I was young.

During the early 1990s, I was an avid collector of DC Comics. I’d finish reading an issue and immediately start imagining what happened next.

What were the characters doing between adventures? Who would they fall in love with? Would they get married? Have children? How would they handle the psychological trauma that came with their rather extraordinary lives?

Eventually, those questions developed into elaborate stories.

Whole fictional histories unfolded inside my head.

And they still do.

Recently, I’ve found myself imagining different possibilities surrounding Jason Todd’s return from the dead. My current Supernatural viewing might have something to do with that particular storyline.

Sometimes these imagined adventures appear when I’m emotional. Sometimes when I have a quiet moment to myself.

And sometimes when I should be sleeping.

The Trickster doesn’t need special effects or a television screen. My imagination provides everything he needs.

When Daydreaming Becomes Avoidance

As a teenager, that imaginary world was a refuge.

I was dealing with relentless bullying, depression, and the social difficulties that came from spending years being treated as though I didn’t belong.

Reality wasn’t a particularly welcoming place.

Inside my imagination, however, I could create something different.

I could explore relationships, solve problems, and imagine people finding the understanding and acceptance I desperately wanted in my own life.

I honestly don’t know how I would have survived those years without that ability.

And I don’t want to dismiss what it gave me.

The problem came later.

Long after high school ended, I continued retreating into those imaginary worlds. Sometimes I spent so much time there that I wasn’t giving my actual life the attention it needed.

The escape that had once helped me endure difficult circumstances was beginning to keep me from moving beyond them.

And when I finally returned to reality, I sometimes felt worse.

Because the problems were still there.

Only now, I’d spent hours avoiding them.

The Difference Between Imagination and Escape

I believe imagination is one of the greatest gifts a creative person can possess.

It’s what allows me to write, design, tell stories, and create characters like The Trickster in the first place.

There’s nothing wrong with imagining possibilities.

But I’ve learned that there’s a difference between using imagination to enrich my life and using it to avoid living my life.

One inspires me to create something.

The other can leave me standing still.

Of course, the boundary isn’t always obvious.

Sometimes an imaginary adventure sparks a genuinely useful idea. Other times, it’s simply a way of avoiding an uncomfortable feeling.

And The Trickster is remarkably skilled at making both experiences feel equally important.

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The Trickster and the Rest of the Crew

Like every member of my Emotional Cartography crew, The Trickster has complicated relationships with the others.

Some appreciate his talents.

Others would very much like him to stop touching the controls.

Partners in Crime

His closest accomplice is undoubtedly The Procrastinator.

These two are a dangerous combination.

The Trickster finds something entertaining. The Procrastinator decides the original task can wait.

“We’ll get to it later. First, look at this!”

And just like that, another afternoon disappears.

The Spark, on the other hand, genuinely appreciates his creativity.

She sees possibilities in his distractions. He presents an unusual idea, and she immediately wants to explore it.

That’s exactly what happened today.

I was supposed to be applying for jobs. The Trickster suggested looking into paid writing opportunities, The Spark got excited, and suddenly I had an entirely different project underway.

I can’t even say the result is entirely bad.

I’m writing something meaningful.

It’s just not what I planned to do.

Dr. Anxiety has a more complicated relationship with him.

The doctor presents a collection of uncomfortable possibilities, and The Trickster offers an escape route.

Unfortunately, distracting myself from anxiety doesn’t necessarily resolve whatever caused it.

The Depression Beast sometimes benefits from The Trickster’s humour. A good laugh can briefly loosen the Beast’s grip.

But if I spend all my time escaping reality, the Beast can become even harder to manage.

And then there’s the Archivist of Regret.

Those two should probably be supervised.

The Archivist brings out painful memories, and The Trickster transforms them into elaborate alternate histories.

Between them, they can keep me wandering through the Museum for hours.

The Crew Members Who Call His Bluff

Not everyone appreciates The Trickster’s methods.

Taskmaster is probably his greatest rival.

Taskmaster wants results. The Trickster wants another adventure.

The more Taskmaster demands that I accomplish something, the more tempting The Trickster’s distractions can become.

It’s a rather exhausting arrangement.

The Navigator takes a different approach.

Instead of shouting about everything I haven’t accomplished, the Navigator asks a simple question:

“Where were we supposed to be going?”

That’s usually enough to remind me that the detour wasn’t part of the original plan.

The Translator is interested in what The Trickster is trying to hide.

If I’m distracting myself from an uncomfortable emotion, the Translator wants to understand that emotion rather than make it disappear.

Naturally, The Trickster would prefer to change the subject.

And The Groundskeeper understands something the others occasionally forget.

Sometimes I really do need a break.

Rest isn’t a failure. Neither is laughter.

But there’s a difference between taking care of myself and disappearing from my responsibilities.

The Groundskeeper seems to understand that distinction better than most.

The Trickster Versus The Procrastinator

These two deserve a closer comparison because their behaviour can look remarkably similar. I’ve already explored The Procrastinator and his talent for putting things off, but The Trickster operates a little differently.

The Procrastinator specializes in delaying action.

“I’ll do it tomorrow.”

The Trickster specializes in redirecting attention.

“Forget about tomorrow. Have you seen this?”

The Procrastinator doesn’t necessarily need an entertaining alternative. Sometimes he simply doesn’t want to begin.

The Trickster, however, always seems to have something else worth investigating.

He can even appear when there’s no task to postpone.

An uncomfortable conversation, an unpleasant memory, or an emotion I’d rather not acknowledge can be enough to summon him.

Put simply:

The Procrastinator tells me I can do it tomorrow. The Trickster makes sure I forget what I was supposed to do today.

And when they work together?

Well, let’s just say Taskmaster has every reason to be concerned.

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When the Distraction Becomes the Problem

I don’t believe The Trickster is trying to sabotage my life.

But there have been times when his attempts to protect me have caused problems of their own.

The Cost of Looking Away

During my twenties, there were periods when I spent much of my time outside work retreating into my imaginary world.

It was comfortable there.

I could control the stories, revisit familiar characters, and explore possibilities that didn’t exist in my real life.

But eventually, I would have to come back.

And sometimes the contrast between those imagined worlds and my actual circumstances was painful.

I felt stuck.

As though my life had been left in neutral while everything else continued moving forward.

The very thing I used to escape depression could sometimes leave me feeling more depressed afterward.

That’s the difficult part about The Trickster.

His distractions can provide genuine relief.

But relief isn’t always the same as resolution.

Sometimes the thing you’re avoiding becomes even more intimidating the longer you leave it alone.

What Is He Trying to Protect Me From?

I’ve come to believe that most of my Emotional Cartography characters are trying to protect me from something.

Even when their methods aren’t particularly helpful.

The Trickster is no exception.

When I was being bullied, I needed somewhere to escape.

And since I’m revisiting that period, let me say something.

If you’re one of those people who thinks it’s acceptable to call someone ugly to their face, especially a young teenage girl, I hope you understand just how fucking damaging that can be.

Those words don’t necessarily disappear when school ends.

They can follow someone for decades.

I’m turning 51 in a couple of weeks, and I’m still dealing with some of what happened to me back then.

So yes, I understand why The Trickster showed up.

He gave me somewhere else to go when the real world was hurting me.

But the bullying ended years ago.

Why does he still appear?

I think I know at least part of the answer.

Rejection.

I’ve been struggling to find meaningful work for years. Since losing my job in October, I’ve been sending out applications without receiving a single callback or interview.

I know job hunting takes time.

I know rejection is part of the process.

But knowing that doesn’t make the experience any less discouraging.

Every application carries the possibility of another disappointment.

And The Trickster sees that discomfort coming.

“Hey, instead of doing that, why don’t we look into getting paid to write?”

Suddenly, I’m researching something interesting. Something that makes me feel hopeful and creative instead of rejected.

I understand what he’s trying to do.

I even appreciate the intention.

But sometimes I wish he’d trust me enough to let me experience the unpleasant feelings without immediately trying to whisk me away.

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Learning to Work With the Wild Card

Over the years, I’ve become much better at recognizing The Trickster’s influence.

That doesn’t mean he’s disappeared.

Far from it.

But I’ve learned that pretending he doesn’t exist isn’t particularly useful.

Like the rest of my crew, he has a role to play.

The challenge is making sure he isn’t running the entire operation.

Catch the Sleight of Hand

The first step is noticing when he’s taken over.

Sometimes that’s easier said than done.

I might suddenly realize I’ve spent half an hour doing something entirely unrelated to my original plan.

When that happens, I’ve started trying to acknowledge his presence rather than immediately becoming angry with myself.

“Hello, Trickster. I see you.”

I can recognize what he’s doing and appreciate the comfort or entertainment he’s offered.

Then I can ask myself what I was trying to avoid.

Sometimes the answer is obvious.

Other times, The Translator needs to get involved.

Make Room for Play Without Disappearing Into It

I don’t want to lose my imagination.

It’s too important to who I am.

Those imaginary worlds have helped me through some extraordinarily difficult times. They’ve also inspired my creativity.

And who knows? Perhaps someday I’ll finally write that book I’ve been thinking about for years.

The Trickster and The Spark would certainly have plenty to contribute.

But I want imagination to become something that helps me build my life rather than something I retreat into whenever life becomes uncomfortable.

There’s room for stories, laughter, and unexpected adventures.

There also needs to be room for the responsibilities waiting outside them.

Return to the Mission

Something interesting happened this past summer.

When I was working, I barely experienced the urge to disappear into my imaginary world.

I was focused on my job, the possibilities it offered, and what I hoped to build from that experience.

My real life was giving me something meaningful to engage with.

And The Trickster didn’t need to work nearly as hard.

That taught me something.

I’m capable of being present.

I’m capable of directing my attention toward the things that matter to me.

The challenge becomes greater when I’m isolated, discouraged, or uncertain about my future. Sometimes I need to find a little quiet before I can focus again, something I’ve explored in Quiet Frequency: Finding Calm Before the Transmission.

That’s when I need to recognize what’s happening and gently bring myself back.

Not by demanding that every minute be productive.

But by remembering that my actual life deserves my attention, too.

Even when it’s difficult.

Even when the next step might lead to disappointment.

Sometimes returning to the mission means doing one small thing.

Like submitting one of those job applications.

Which, incidentally, I still need to do.

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Diana Sometimes Battles The Trickster

There’s one member of my household who has developed a surprisingly effective strategy for dealing with The Trickster.

Diana.

My little feline sidekick doesn’t particularly care what imaginary adventure I’m having.

She has her own priorities.

Sometimes, when I’m lost in thought, she’ll make her grand entrance into the living room and begin her infamous catwalk toward me.

And just like that, I’m back in the real world.

There’s a cat approaching.

A very important cat.

One who has apparently decided that whatever is happening inside my head can wait.

The Trickster may have an entire imaginary universe at his disposal, but Diana has something even more powerful.

The ability to demand my attention simply by existing.

She’ll tolerate his nonsense for a while.

But eventually, it’s time to focus on her.

A very wise sidekick, indeed.

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Final Thought: The Trick Is Knowing When to Look Back

I don’t want to get rid of The Trickster.

He’s funny, imaginative, and occasionally exactly what I need when life becomes too heavy.

He’s helped me survive painful experiences, find moments of laughter during depression, and discover creative possibilities I might otherwise have overlooked.

But I also know what happens when I let him take control for too long.

The real world doesn’t disappear just because I’m looking somewhere else.

The responsibilities remain. The uncomfortable feelings remain. And the life I want to build is still waiting for me to participate in it.

So perhaps the goal isn’t to silence The Trickster.

It’s to appreciate his talents without surrendering the controls.

He can keep his jokes, his magic tricks, and his ridiculous side quests.

I just need him to understand that sometimes, the most important thing is the one he’s trying to make me look away from.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have two job applications waiting.

And I’m fairly certain The Trickster has already found something else he’d rather we do.

How does The Trickster influence your life? Do you recognize the moment a welcome distraction becomes a way of avoiding something important?