Douglas Adams is my personal hero. I mean, just looking at a picture of him makes me smile (seriously- go look on wikipedia. Is he not the jolliest looking fellow?).
My entire life I’ve been pushed to write by an entire family of writers. My grandmother is a published poet, that has an enormous poet fan base (I bet you didn’t know there was such a thing, huh?). My dad and mom have both written screenplays and short stories. I remember when I was little I used to recite stories and make my mom write out every sentence on a different piece of paper. Then I would draw some sort of squiggly illustration (my stick figures did indeed have 5 toes (smaller sticks) on every foot). Three staples would suddenly turn my “story” into a published book. I made a lot of them.
In sixth grade we were suddenly assigned creative story assignments. I sat down and wrote my first one (a whole 3 pages, single spaced!) in about four hours. A week later my teacher read a bunch of our stories out loud in class. Apparently mine was a hit. They talked to my parents- apparently I could write.
And then came nothing.
I’ve written so many short stories, poems and gotten to the middle point of three different “novels”. And so have most teenagers. When we’d get our report cards back, in the comments section there was always the “and she’s such an incredible writer” comment to look forward to. AP English classes in 11th and 12th grade kicked my butt. Suddenly I wasn’t allowed to be that creative. There was a very strict formula that had to be, MUST BE followed. Or else? You’d get a 3. A 3!!! (Of course 1 was lowest, but since I went to a college prep school that’s kindergarten now costs around $28,000- that’s right- NO ONE got a 1.) I got one 3 in the two years I spent in the AP classes. I have never been so embarrassed. I was reprimanded and whipped into academic shape. By the end I could write a 5 paragraph essay deconstructing the writing style of an excerpt of Ralph Waldo Emerson in no time. I was very very prepared for college.
But I HATE that type of writing. Who enjoys reading something that follows a very severe logical line? Well, I don’t. And maybe that’s why I love Douglas Adams. I’ve never really gotten anywhere with my writing, aside from pats on the backs from various teachers. I don’t really write anymore, either. Unless this counts, which it doesn’t, because reading over it right now I can tell that it sucks.
Douglas Adams was ridiculous. And ridiculous in the best possible way one can be ridiculous. An entire chapter about a whale coming into sudden existence whilst falling to its death from the sky? Trying to figure out if it should befriend the potted plant that is falling along side of it? Who could not love that?
I can’t sleep. How much of not being able to sleep is not being able to sleep and how much of it is thinking that you can’t sleep?
I shouldn’t be frustrated about not being able to fall asleep by 12:30 anyway. That kind of thinking is reserved for people at least 20 years older than me. Oh well…
I’m not even that worried or stressed about anything. I’ve got a bunch of projects to finish at work…but those kind of things don’t really keep me up. My throat is all scratchy and feels terrible. It’s kind of hot and my fan is hitting the empty area right above me, and I’d have to help it achieve some kind of miraculous balancing act with a chair if I really want that air to hit me perfectly.
why is it that the middle of the night is when I feel the most creative? Ok, not every night but TONIGHT, at 12:30 a.m. Every time I close my eyes I see some kind of design I want to try and make. And I know when I wake up tomorrow I won’t remember a thing.
it’s frustrating how last night, while trying to fall asleep I was thinking like a blogger. I thought in complete and even edited sentences. "thought thought thought-no wait, THOUGHT thought thought"
Now I can’t remember any of it- and I wonder why I would even think like that. Since when did I become fluent in the language of facebook, twitter and (though I’m really bad about it) blogspot? I hate when I catch myself doing that- thinking something and then edited it to the appropriate twitter-size, or facebook-wittiness factor.
Maybe I need to keep a notebook with me all the time so I remember the things I have to talk about. This would also come in handy when meeting new people. I could use it as a small-talk registry. Outline all the things I could say to any kind of person anywhere. Awkward silences be damned.
I also hate how these posts have little to no organization. But now I just thought, “But your BRAIN has little to no organization. Wouldn’t it be really weird if all your thoughts were organized? "FIRST we’re going to think about what you want to eat. Then, once we get that out of the way, we can move on to all the things that bother you at work. If we can cross that off our list in a little while, then and ONLY do we have some wiggle room for day dreaming."