Don't you hate it when...
Where's my pen?!
So there you are. You've sat down in front of your laptop. You've opened Microsoft Word, or OmmWriter, or your blog page and you're ready to type. And as instantaneously as someone flicking off the lights, all your ideas evaporate. All the words, sentences, and concepts have flown the coop. You're left sitting there, empty minded, thinking harder and harder about what it was you were going to type. What exactly it was you were going to say. The knowledge you were going to share with the world has left you sitting there, high and dry. And here's where it gets tricky.
Now, you can either sit and stare; working your brain and trying to dig those fossils buried beneath three feet of concrete out with a spoon. Or you can give up and backtrack. What was it you were doing that sparked your stream of consciousness into a rapid fire of excellent and intriguing things to write about? If you were doing the dishes, fill the sink and go back to playing with the bubbles. Taking a walk? Drag your dog off the couch and hit the side walk running (normally, they don't mind that too much). Watching a movie, or reading a book? Hit rewind or flip back twenty pages. After repeating these mundane activities and still coming up blank, that's normally when I give up. I sigh, close out of whatever blank page held such potential moments ago, and relinquish my soul to Youtube, Facebook, Memebase, iFunny, Pinterest.
And each time I let it go I feel as if I've lost some wonderfully important piece of self. But soon the feeling is forgotten, drown out by entertaining videos or pictures that are found in endless quantities throughout the internets.
But today, though I sat down and forgot my initial concept for my writing, I stuck with it and wrote something anyway. Don't you just hate it though, when you've got something fairly awesome to get out and you end up losing the whole thing the second you begin? That's how I sometimes feel after an epitodream. You wake up slowly, relaxed and blissfully content at knowing the meaning of life. And as you lay there, between asleep and awake, you vaguely realize just how important it is that you remember everything you just dreamed. You haul your mind up from the haze of unconsciousness and stumble to the computer desk, fumble with a pen and a scrap of paper. Pry your eyes open just enough to see the blurry objects in front of you, place the tip of the pen to paper and start to scribble. Incoherent thoughts jumble and mix together. And you're staring at the paper with random useless words on it an hour later, feeling quite angry, annoyed, and most frustrated. The dream is gone and all those happy contented feelings with it. How do we lose such important thoughts? Who steals them away? And why can I never write my dreams down on pieces of paper I don't need, instead of job applications, directions to the chinese buffet, and yet-to-be-sent-out-birthday cards?
*Frustrated and annoyed but not yet insane with anger,