My oh so writerly mind this morning. (Remniscent of the movie Adaptation, though decidedly less funny.)
I’m really glad I thought of this last night, glad I remembered it, better get this down. [Sound of typing.] This is bad, this doesn’t sound like something that would be reviewed in The New York Times Book Review as “redefining contemporary American fiction as we know it,” why am I doing this, why didn’t I major in business? I should have done some sort of new media/communications major, my college was well known for that. I could have just gone to my adviser--what a weird guy--and just said, I want to be in television production and he would have just transferred me to that department. Could I go back? I bet they would take back someone who had already graduated but had yet to use the degree--it would be a guilt thing or a least I could appeal to that emotion in my essay. I wish I was a producer on Morning Joe--or even a makeup artist, not that I could actually do that, but it would get my foot in the door. I have two paragraphs, but now where is this going? I mean do I talk about her husband now? Is he depressed? Every husband in stories is depressed. I need more coffee but I’ve had too much coffee. What should I get [insert your name here] for Christmas? I should make a list of all the people I need to buy presents for...
[10 minute break to do that]
[10 minute surf of Amazon.com for gift ideas]
I think I'll make some chive cream cheese now.
(See the next post for fruits of my labor--the two paragraphs of writing, not the chive cream cheese.)