Thursday, February 2, 2012
The second thing was as I was dropping my older daughter off, science project in hand. Rhianna came on the radio belting out about finding "love in a hopeless place". Oh, honey, we know already. But that's okay, you keep repeating that line over and over again until it sinks in. Because, Rhianna dear, if you keep going back to Chris Brown-abuser, then you are indeed finding your love in a hopeless place.
So I pulled the car over and slapped myself a few times. Sadly, I was already awake.
And this is when I realized that after not writing a word in almost half a month, I needed to shock my own damn monkey and get back into gear. I should crate my inner baby because she's only throwing tantrums, and I need to start looking for heroes who are in hopeless places and need some lovin'. Only then will I get my creative juices flowing again.
See? There was a segue! Betcha didn't think I could pull that one out of my well-sculpted ass (hey, this is fantasy, right?).
Which reminds me. I went to the doctor yesterday. She says I'm a mess. She did it with a smile so I think she's being very sweet. Still, a professional took a good look at me and decided my body wasn't so sound. Considering that this is the same woman who warned me less than twelve hours before I went to the ER last summer, that I might be in the ER soon, I think I'll listen to her.
I think pills are a sign of aging. Yes, it totally has to do with that paragraph up there! Just hang on a sec. You see, the older we get the more meds or herbals we seem to need in order to remember what it feels like to be younger. And when even the meds don't work any more, what do we do? We take Ginkgo so that it boosts our memories and we force ourselves to remember how good we no longer feel.
Sigh. What a viscious cycle. What I need right now is a way to remember the plot I wanted to write next. Does that mean I need Ginkgo, or some monkey shocking? I dunno. I just don't know.