You may (or may not) know that feeling. The feeling where it seems everything seems like it is so easy. That cute girl seems to really like your stories, and she didn’t even notice you spill your punch. After all, you’re the DD, and it is usually so difficult to talk to the cute ones and avoid the drunk ones. So, you make your third trip to the rest room in as many impromptu dance-offs. It seems possible to brush off the burning in your chest as heartburn and the flush cheeks as merely side effects of kicking so much ass on the shag-carpeted dance floor. Everyone knows you can’t resist Prince. After missing the door knob twice, the slow tide of realization is turning.
oh. my.
Everything that didn’t make sense, does. Your frame of reference is shifted, and you’re forced to take a closer (albeit wobbly) look at what you thought you knew about the situation. Yet, at the same time, a whole new set of problems have just made themselves apparent. It’s the stupid punch.
This is it. The big idea. A moment where fear and rationalization come together to make the most beautiful solutions. But, they are not all solutions, some are bad ideas; some are not attainable with my feeble mind. Perhaps it is this disruptive and mentally jarring moment where creativity lies. On the margins, and maybe a bit crazy.
…………….
I want this blog to be a way for me to keep track of the multitude of beautiful, insane and (most likley) irrelevant thoughts bouncing around in my head. Maybe this will grow into something magnificent, and maybe I will just look like an idiot. Either way, this is the jump-off.