Monday, April 25, 2005

A Shower of Ideas

Why is it that creativity happens at the most inopportune of times? I can sit in front of the green glowing thing on my desk for hours and have not one single original thought, and then I go take a shower and the floodgates open. With the stream of water comes a torrent of ideas I cannot dam up. And worse, I cannot remember. How shall I catalogue the genius that flows when the water hits my body? For as soon as I dry off, the ideas have dried up as well, and I can barely remember my times tables let alone the pure wit that visited me as I washed up. Cruel muses. I shall hire an assistant. It will be his (or her) job to listen to me talk aloud and jot down my ideas in very neat handwriting (too damp in the bathroom for a computer). I laugh with glee at that thought, for who would sit in a small, clammy bathroom jotting down the rantings of a middle-aged woman talking to herself and fancying it to be inspired? More laughter then because of course my assistant would need to be pleasing to look at as well as excellent with pen and paper, and I sincerely doubt there are any Orlando Bloom look-alikes clamoring for this particular job.


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