Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Three Little Words

Above is the culmination of four hours of non-stop creative brain power.  That right there is what came from a morning spent at my computer, looking into the depths of my soul and asking myself the age old question:  What do I have to say?

"I outgrew Madonna."

That's what I had to say.  Three words.  Genius!!!  Just genius.  Also, a lie.  (I listened to her just this morning and I'm going to see her live in October.)  I'm not sure where I was going with that sentence but I'm sure it was brilliant, you guys.

Here is what I did for four hours instead of making words with my brain:  text everyone I know, walk to the coffee shop and take a photo of a door, fill out a six-page form for a doctor's appointment I don't have until Thursday afternoon, watch a video of a cat teaching a dog to roll over (adorable), write two terrible tweets, search the entire internet for Beck tickets, play "throw the toy hedgehog" with my dog and google "Is Dramarama a British band or what?"  (They're not.  They're straight up American.  They're from Los Angeles.  The city where I live.  Now I know this!  They sing that one song I like sometimes!)

Since I'm clearly ON FIRE today, why not blog about not being able to blog?!  This wasn't even an original idea.  I met my friends for lunch (More procrastination.  Delicious procrastination.) and my friend Edi said I should write about not being able to write.  So, here it is.  And, I'm doing a bang up job!

Whenever I have a day like this, I picture myself as a machine with little vials of liquids in pretty rows.  I picture my "creative juice" as this purple-y stuff that looks like Gatorade.  I imagine there's a leak, like I'm oozing inspiration into some other vial.  (I HAVE felt a spike in irritation today so maybe that's what happened.  The irritation vial is bright orange, fyi.) I also imagine it could be refueled with vodka or a brownie sundae or a chai latte or some such nonsense. More purple juice, coming up!

When you tell people you have writer's block, they tell you not to worry.  They tell you that "it happens to everyone."  And, I'm sure it does!  I'm sure Homer Simpson gets button pusher's block and that police officers have days where they're writing a ticket and all of a sudden they're just like, I can't do this anymore and they fling their little clipboard thingy down on the side of the highway and stomp off with their big black boots back to the squad car where they then play DrawSomething with Officer Johnson, who is stuck on desk duty because he set off some flares in the middle of the street one night when he was drunk off of whiskey sours.  I'm sure it happens to everyone.

So, I'm not making a big deal out of it.  Just gonna, you know, write today off.  (Ha.  "Write off."  Wow.) I mean, it's 3:16 pm already.  In a few hours it'll be a respectable quitting time and I can, you know, quit.

It'll be fine! 

"I outgrew Madonna."


*Photo by me, duh.