Even though it may be IMPOSSIBLE to imagine, sometimes I have bad ideas for blog posts.
What? You mean you’re not always a genius lyrical angel?!
At the risk of shattering your universe…no.
But while we all occasionally have bad ideas or plans that don’t work out quite how we imagined, I feel that as a writer—who writes every idea/random thought/passing emotion downI’m often subjected to physical evidence of these plans and ideas, and the results consistently leave me scratching my head.
So, in the hopes of garnering a few smiles and giving a few shout outs to the crazies like me, I’d like to share some of these failed ideas with you. These are notes I’ve written on my phone, on post-it’s, in the moleskin notebooks I carry around in my purse, these are even ideas I tried to flesh out in a Word document on my computer, only to come across it months later and think: Where the hell was I going with this?
“Balloon: blowing it up, leaving you light headed?”
Yes, blowing balloons up does leave you lightheaded…and? What’s the metaphor here, Kim? Why did you feel the need to write down something you’ve known since you were 5? And why is it a question rather than a statement?
“2 grey jackets”
Am I buying the jackets? Are the jackets a code word for human beings I admired/hated? Am I one of the jackets? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?!
“0 –> velociraptor REAL QUICK”
This, of course, is a parody of Drake’s lyrics: “Zero to one hundred, real quick”, though I’m not sure what my rewording is in response to, or the party involved. Had I met someone whose persona switches from zero (a.k.a normal) to velociraptor (a.k.a ???) at an expedited speed? Was I the person that did this? Did I write this whilst in velociraptor mode?
“Life is like a puzzle. We are the piece among thousands that make up the world and we collect pieces to complete our own. Some pieces are easy to find. The edges make sense and the patterns match—
Okay I’m not even going to finish that one. Stop it, Kim. Just stop it. You’ve taken this metaphor too far. You’re trying to be too deep. This was clearly written on an iPhone note at 2 a.m. You should have just rolled over and went to sleep.
This next one was found in a document entitled “The Three Little Pigs & the Big Bad Trust Issue.” Again, this was CLEARLY written late at night, when thoughts really shouldn’t be written down for the morning brain to find. This one, however, is too funny not to share in its entirety.
Pigs don’t need houses: Farmer john is the one taking all the shit, seeing and shielding all the bad
Pigs get threatened (we get hurt)
Our house is blown down. We’re a little shaken up, we go out and find sticks, we’ll obviously need something stronger to protect us, not as easy to break down but also not as easy to get inside
House blows down. Now we are thoroughly convinced of the impending bad. We expect it, and refuse to be surprised, so we build a home of bricks. One sure to keep us safe. The only people worth trusting are those already inside. A knock at the door means danger, so it’s best to shake off any new introductions.
It’s just like the story, except there’s only one pig, and we keep getting tricked.
Please do yourself a favor and read that last line a few times and have a good laugh. “It’s just like the story, except there’s only one pig, and we keep getting tricked.” So, yeah. In case you were a little confused about the way life works, I pretty much spelled it out for you there. We are (apparently) all naïve pigs, the end.
And for the grand finale, here are a bunch of snippets from a long winded metaphor I typed up about…SANDWICHES.
I wish I was kidding.
A sandwich is a small part of the food chain we’ve grown familiar with, but then again so are we.
I make myself a sandwich every morning. The ingredients are basic, safe. I don’t venture far into creative combinations. The innovation isn’t appealing enough to risk the stomach ache or the bad taste.
Like any good food metaphor, this one takes a moment of self-reflection. Are you the sandwich, hoping to satisfy? Or are you an ingredient, hoping to be made into something bigger and better? Are you the butter knife? The bread? The extra avocado?
I was bread. Lying in a pile of others just like me, wondering when I’d get my chance to make something of myself.
All I’m certain of, is he is the cheese. Of his own sandwich or mine, I’m not sure.
Honestly, why do you even listen to a word I say?
I mean, I’d like to blame all of these on staying up too late, but some of these ideas float by during working hours. Should we be worried? Should I be worried? Maybe I am just a naïve pig after all.