A different take on yesterday’s concept.
I’d like you more if you weren’t so smug.
I have to do all the work. All you have to do is sit there.
And sit there you do, flashing metronomically out of view, then in, then back out, in again—
Meanwhile, I leer dumbly at you, wondering why my Great Ideas don’t seem to work themselves out.
Even tonight, my Great Idea has fizzled. To the back burner with you. And again, and again.
I’m reduced to late-night pleading with an unfeeling block of pixels.
The nice part is, it stops blinking when I type. If I just keep typing and let my thoughts flow, the cursor pays attention, instead of drifting in and out of our conversation.
But what happens when the thoughts don’t flow? Where do the ideas come from when you have to dig for them? Why, when the writing starts to involve something more than vomiting a relative stream of consciousness onto the page, does it cease to bring joy?
I don’t know. Maybe because it’s late. Aha, of course. I need to write right when I get up. Studies show the brain is more active first thing in the morning. Surely, this will solve all of my problems.
Until I install more back burners upon which to place my ever-growing heap of ideas that are just too hard to write at this moment right now, or too good not to devote hours to, or not interesting enough for the general public.
And so I am left gawking at a white space punctuated by my dear friend, Blinking Cursor. Sometimes I feel like he’ll get the best of me one day.
I guess it won’t be today.