Living With Forgotten Ideas

Like diarrhea, you never know when a good idea is going to hit you. I've found that I often get ideas as I'm drifting off to sleep because this is when my brain decides to work after a long day of faking it. For this reason I started leaving a pen and a notebook on the nightstand (I learned my lesson about not writing anything on my hand or arm after the day I walked around with "sunflower seeds forget elephants" imprinted on my cheek).

An idea that comes to me in the middle of the night or as I'm falling asleep always seems like the BEST IDEA I'VE EVER HAD. Of course, this is almost never true. Sometimes I wake up excited the next day because I remember the feeling of a brilliant idea, but that excitement generally fades when I try to make sense of what I wrote down.

For example, I have no idea what "Twins—ugly and pretty—blame each other for face parts" means but I'm sure in my half-awake state it made sense. Here are a few more things I've jotted down in the wee hours and never made sense of:

"Jealousy has big teeth."
"Like salty popsicles - life and freezer burn."
"Big crosses and fancy purses."
“Falling from Tyra’s forehead.”
"Carry-on body."
"You are everyone here – a hate pit."
"Looney Tunes t-shirts."
"Coupon cutting condescension."
"Are you smarter than a Brit?"
“Life-ing my live.”
"Hammered and nails - not drunk."
"Ovaries song - hip thrusts to techno Babies beat."
“A sandwich shop for feelings.”
"Shitting crumbs."
"Unbroken is bad, break the window."
"New area codes—I don't get one."

There’s something about getting paid to be creative that messes with your ability to judge your own ideas. So instead of playing gatekeeper, you just start writing down every half-formed idea you have and thinking, “maybe this will make sense another day,” even though you’re almost sure it never will. But there’s always the chance, the hope for inspiration and that’s why I can’t throw away anything I write, whether scribbled or typed, because maybe one day all of my orphaned ideas will come together and make babies and live happily ever after…or maybe you’ll just see me on "Hoarders."

I'm Super Busy and Important...

This title is true if it is opposite day, which it is not.

I know that the 25 people following this blog, and the three people who actually read it, have been tossing and turning because I have been seemingly absent from my blog for quite awhile now.

It's been 20 days. That's almost three weeks.

Given these numbers, I understand why you might be mad at me, why you might decide to give up on this blog, and why you might want to send me hate mail (I've never received hate mail before, but it seems like something important people tend to get - so, naturally, I'm expecting some very soon.). But before you start fashioning grammatically incorrect protest signs about Quinnterruption, please know that I have every intention to turn this blog around. No, it will not be a 'glob', but it will be more regular, kind of like a bowel movement, only prettier, and less...er, um...smelly.

This new promise of regularity should be taken as seriously as all of my other promises, which I have upheld completely to not at all. So, if you gave up on me, please, come back. If you feel as though I no longer deserve your loyalty as a reader, then I urge you to reconsider your obviously stupid feeling. You can't quit me. You can try, but you won't be able to because that will just make you a quitter at quitting and nobody likes a quitting quitter.

In an effort to suck empathy from you via distraction, I'm sharing a few of the things that have been occupying my productive time over the last 20 days:

1. By browsing this site, I've become an expert in the field of child psychological by identifying why some people (read: serial killers) grow up to hate their parents:

2. I've been attempting to contact my long-lost group of BFFs after finding this picture of our last reunion:
Needless to say, we had a falling out over what constituted as "liquor." Of course, it might have also had something to do with the fact that I was always drunk - but, hey, hindsight is 20/20, am I right?

3. As usual, I'm always busy learning about how to call on magical unicorn powers:

4. This sentence: "My passion for you grows like mold: unavoidable due to exposure and neglect."

5. I've been rejoicing over the fact that someone has finally sought revenge on Subway's "Five. Five Dollar. Five Dollar Foot Long." campaign from hell. (Whether it was intentional or not hardly matters.)

6. I'm also very busy increasing my hair-esteem on daily basis:

7. I can't stop listening to people sing the dirty words I type. So neato! (Beware: You may lose hours of your life to this website.)

8. Also cutting into my productive time: Regularly giving into my very large Etsy obsession.

9. Okay, I'll admit it - my latest career kick has also contributed to my lack of posts. Here's the deal: I think I should get a second job as an official wedding guest. Oh come on, not an escort - get your mind out of the gutter! - I'm talking about something I could actually make money doing, like, entertainment in the form of unintentional comedic relief. I've attended nearly a dozen weddings this year and managed to embarrass myself in one way or another at all of them. This usually works in the favor of the bride and groom (I'm like the free side-show circus that came with the band). But last weekend a wedding in Santa Fe proved once again that yes, I can injure myself by tripping on flat surfaces and red wine does in fact stain white wedding dresses. But seriously, most of the time, I'm a big hit at weddings - invite me to yours and I promise I won't bring a gift, but I will embarrass myself for the sake of your entertainment.

10. My camera broke and it wasn't my fault. WIN!

11. I had to stop everything I was doing and read this beautiful insomniac rant.

12. If you want to know the real reason why I haven't blogged, see #13.

13. Made you look. See #14.

14. Ugh. I guess you really want to know. Fine. Let's just say someone built a damn in my writing brain and broke my funny bone. I'm still in the ICU, but the doctors have high hopes and expect me to fully recover in no time, which is really good news considering how I've had my head up my ass for three weeks.


There you have it. All 14 excuses, I mean, valid reasons, for my blogony. I should be a politician; or maybe I should just be David Letterman. Anyway, I hope you'll understand, and stay tuned for more Quinnterruptions.

List-Making Therapy

I make to-do lists when I get overwhelmed or stressed out. But sometimes instead of a to-do list, I end up making a different kind of list; for instance, the Unemployment Pros and Cons list I referred to in yesterday’s post. Occasionally, the lists I make are humorous and just a way for me to articulate whatever frustration is plaguing me at the moment, such as: Things That Asshats Do to Become Asshats, Reasons My Sister and I Should Never Live Together Again, Why the Olson Twins Suck at Life, and 20 Endearing Ways to Embarrass Yourself (the last one could actually be 50 ways as I’m quite experienced in this realm). Anyway, below is one I wrote today and decided to share.


Things That Will Always Make Me Feel Stupid No Matter How Much Learnin’ I Do:

1. The Stock Market. Numbers, math, numbers, abbreviated words, tiny print, percentages, points, numbers, math, down, up…I’m already tired.

2. Insurance. This is what I know: I have a plastic card that has my name and a code on it and this is what lets me play $30 at the doctor’s instead of $3,000.

3. How to change my oil, or a tire—actually, I’m not even certain that I know how to replenish my washer fluid.

4. How to drive in the snow without causing an accident. Yeah, I have an SUV, but I’m from Virginia, so I don’t get it.

5. Mortgages. When I was little I thought a mortgage was something that had to do with funeral homes and cemeteries – oh, the irony! While I still don’t understand mortgages, I might one day, thanks to HGTV.

6. Taxes. Given one through five, I don’t think I need to elaborate on this one.

7. Plumbing. No, seriously, from the disposal to the washer to the toilet—where is it all going, and why the hell does it make the basement flood?

8. Directions. I am directionally-challenged, so giving me compass instructions is pointless. If people don’t say things like, “hang a Louie and then turn at the sub shop with the space ship sign,” then I’m lost. I never know what direction North, South, East or West is in relation to where I am because I’m too busy concentrating so that my directional dyslexia doesn’t cause me to turn right when you just told me to turn left.

9. How to make a good pot of coffee. I blame a lack of patience for measuring portions.

10. This blog. I don’t really understand it. But if you do, please fill me in.