who stole my inspiration?
I used to be brimming over with inspiration. Like a cup of coffee when you pour without paying attention. Come on…you know you’ve done it. And while hot coffee spilling from my cup wouldn’t be at the top of my list of things to do, the idea of my proverbial cup of inspiration cascading over the sides would be more than welcome.
So who took mine? Seriously. Who did it? I’ve been running on empty for months and I’m ready for my cup to runneth over.
Today I felt a spurt of inspiration coming on. You know, like when someone nicks a vein and the blood squirts into the air? Ok, it wasn’t really like that. It was more like a gust of air. Like when the wind suddenly picks up on a calm day, blowing lawn furniture over before it disappears again. No, I guess it wasn’t like that either. It was more of a trickle…like a dripping faucet. Yeah, that’s it. I’m a dripping faucet of inspiration.
It’s constant, but hardly enough to fill a tub. Or a page. Or even a napkin, honestly. But I guess I should be glad it’s still dripping along. And like any good leaky faucet, eventually it will pick up speed. It’s the law of nature. Or bad plumbing. And despite how much I hate the thought of comparing my creativity to bad plumbing, it sort of fits. What I really need is for it to suddenly overflow. Like the damn toilet when we first moved in to the scary farmhouse. And while an overflowing toilet is a terribly inconvenient thing, an overflowing streak of creativity would be pretty cool. I’m all for that.
So if it’s quite alright, I’d like my inspiration back. It’s not like you can use it. It only works for me. It’s mine. And I miss it. That and the power cord to my PS3. I’d really like that back too. I mean, as long as I’m putting the word out.
Until the next time…I’ll be putting a bowl under my drip to catch the flow of ideas.