Showing posts with label Words. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Words. Show all posts

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

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."

Friday, July 24, 2009

Incomplete Thoughts

Words That Make My Mouth Feel Weird When I Say Them:
  • Schtick
  • Niche (Is it ‘neesh’ or ‘nitch’? Either way, people will judge you based on how you pronounce this stupid word.)
  • Touche (It’s just “touch” with an ‘e’ but I always say it like “OlĂ©!” and that usually makes me feel like a tool.)
  • Jalapeno
  • Hue
  • Sauvignon
  • Philanthropic (Reading it, I’m okay, but saying it in conversation makes my tongue feel like it’s doing somersaults.)
  • Parfait
  • Ampersand
  • Ellipses (I get a lisp just looking at this word.)
  • Cutlery
  • Acquiesce
  • Tyrotoxism (means to be poisoned by cheese, I swear I didn’t make it up.)
  • Supercilious


Are you there Dove? It’s me, Smelly…
Dove has a new line of products that focus on scent, and their new campaign makes me feel like I must naturally smell bad. But, really, why would I want every part of my body to smell the same? Not that I have anything against the smell of grapefruit and lemongrass, which is apparently an energizing scent when combined, but who wants their hair to smell the same as their armpits?


Clumsy Strikes Again
I wasn’t in any kind of rush, nor was I distracted in any sense, just trying to open the car door and get in—something I do every day. Unfortunately, it’s the “open the door” part that tricked me this time. As I grabbed the handle, my overwhelming strength (let’s just call it that) surprised me, causing the door to fling towards me and into my forehead. It was like I forgot how to get into a car, or as if I was in a fight scene from a movie only instead of someone else beating me up by opening a car door in my face, I was beating myself up (flashback: “Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself! Why are you hitting yourself, stupid? Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself!”). As soon as my forehead made contact with the door, I felt my head fall back and my eyes swell with tears. Sniffling, I jumped in the car and drove away without looking to see if anyone had witnessed my door-to-head bunt. Now I have a raised bump and a slightly discolored (bruised) forehead for which my only explanation is: I opened a door on my face. Awesome.
(p.s. – This happened directly after my trip to the eye doctor. Even awesomer.)