#8 / We are all the same, only different
Good ideas, or at least ideas that seem good, are what get me up in the morning, and I usually go straight to my laptop and type them in before I forget them. But this morning, I forgot my idea. I know what it wasn’t though, in case there are any consolation prizes.
It wasn’t “don’t stub your toe” because I stubbed my stupid toe.
I usually fly out of bed when I can feel the idea coming a little loose, if you know what I mean, and this morning it was a matter of urgency. It was life or death. So I peeled out of bed, careened down the hallway, and stubbed my stupid toe.
Well two toes, actually, and the middle one isn’t exactly unscathed either, although its symptoms may be completely sympathetic, because it’s still the right shape and colour, although clearly shaken.
I had to take the day off, and it’s Saturday, too.
If you’re in the neighbourhood, tulips, please, and if you wouldn’t mind bringing me a sandwich or two, toasted if you would, that would be very nice. On rye. Or with it.
This wasn’t the first idea I’ve lost, so I know that as soon as my latest casualty finds its way out of the blue streak, it will be in plentiful – if not necessarily good – company.
What’s slightly more important to me right now, besides the sandwich on or beside rye, is the little issue of why we find small accidents like mine, especially when accompanied by the wacky and exaggerated physical antics required to stay upright in the face of severe gravity, so damn funny.
Although the thought of death by broken toe(s) barely occurred to me, I did wonder how I would survive the humiliation, because both Daisy and the cat enjoyed front row seats to the event, and neither of them have been able to look me in the eye since, or give me any indication of sympathy, and it’s because they can’t keep a straight face. They simply can’t keep it together.
I hear them laughing in the next room to the point of actual wheezing. And as if that’s not mortifying enough, I caught them both, through a crack in the door, imitating me, which – contrary to that stupid saying – is not a form of flattery. Sincerely. Not in the least.
Maybe I’ll find it funny, too, once the swelling goes down or the sandwiches kick in, but until then I am offended. Severely. But I’ll keep my chin up, my foot raised – as well as my glass when you finally get here – and wonder about all those lost ideas. Maybe one or two of them will come to me in my time of need, and I hope they’re the good ones because I know there are a lot of bad ones swirling around, too, some of which I remember only slightly in the little waves I get once in a while.
Here, some ungreat ideas which every once in a while I remember, and then I forget again. Mostly.
trade in my current pets for polite, doting ones
open a bag of potato chips
accept all freelance jobs regardless of similar or even identical deadlines
re-read King Lear
write a second novel
get a haircut at nearest place regardless of reputation (theirs and mine)
go shoe shopping
take up architecture
buy two four dollar avocados
fly out of bed
Does your enthusiasm get you into trouble? Relax. It’s supposed to. Or at least that’s what I’m going with, and here’s why.
I titled this blog We are all the same, only different because I was hoping it’s true. Due to excessive enthusiasm and my inability to know better, I recently shared an idea in the wrong company and now there are a few people at work who avoid me to the point of sprinting.
This got me thinking that maybe I need a sort of mirror for my ideas, you know, I’d see myself and instead of going back to the closet to change my dumb shirt, I’d just need to tuck in the edges of my enthusiasm a bit, a lot, or entirely.
But then I remembered that enthusiasm is a good thing – a really good thing – a source of hope and spectacular energy.
So to those of us who are the same, only different, it’s time we got used to people thinking we are weird and start taking it as a sincere form of flattery.
Thank you and you’re welcome.
