A Spark Of Inspiration
I like;
I like to think I'm a different person. I'll step back and look at my room mates. I'll think to myself, "What if I was him?" Thinking I'm a different person makes it so much easier to write. Then I just write a biography of my cooler self. Or I could even be a girl. I tend to stay away from those scenarios though. I'm not looking to write some erotic novel.
Last week I was a Caleb Followill looking guy playing acoustic guitar in a coffee shop for a living. I was in love with the counter girl but the counter girl had this rock star looking boy friend. He wore the leather jackets and biker boots. All his shirts were grease stained. He stood a good 6' 4" and was easily a little over 200 pounds. He was big and cool and I was some small dude with a bad hair cut and an acoustic guitar.
I began to write a story about this but realized; I do not want fan girls. I will not be the next Nicholas Sparks. Yes, he probably has bank and his books aren't too bad. But I do not want a fan base built up by junior high girls. Can you imagine being mobbed by brace faces and jelly bracelets? I can, and I don't like it.
So last night I was trying to think of a new story. While thinking up this plot, I was also thinking how much I didn't want to come up with something. I wanted a real life. Not some fantasy on paper.
"Pass the potato salad?" I ask Jeremy.
Now Jeremy and his girlfriend made us all eat together tonight so I couldn't think in my regular comforting environment. But hell, we had good food finally.
"Something smells good." Tony comes in the door rubbing his stomach. "What's for eats?"
Tony still talked like a child, and it bothered me. "What's for dinner?" I corrected him, "Look at the table, it's all there."
"Thank you Mr. Salinger for your great literal knowledge and pointing out the obvious." Tony and I were never really too close.
"Your welcome Bieber." I called him this since his recent hair cut. He literally looked like a fifteen year old boy. This bothered me as well.
"Looks good." He says ignoring my answer. "Special occasion?"
"We've got some good news to share with you guys." Jeremy's girlfriend says. God, what was her name?
"That we have a functioning stove?" Tony jokes and kisses the girl on the forehead as a thank you for her ability to cook the average American dinner.
"Well, we did find that out, but it's even better news." Jeremy puts his fork down and wipes his hands clean on his jeans. Classy. "Would you like to tell them?" Jeremy looks at her and she smiles and gives a hand motion to tell him to say what ever it is. "I proposed to Cynthia this morning in the coffee shop. It was really great. Every one was awing and clapping and it was all really cute." So that was her name. "Then the best part was that, she said yes." He looked up from his downward gaze and into Cynthia's eyes. They were a bright blue color. Her hair was done up in a messy bun. It was dark brown and her skin was pale white. She was really something, but Cynthia? What kind of name was that.
I sat there looking at her and began to laugh.
"What?" Me and Cynthia never talked, there was the occasional, Jeremy wont be home till later, but for the most part, I didn't even know her name. So she looked slightly confused as she tried to laugh with me.
"Your name is Cynthia?" I shook my head and laughed again. She stopped laughing.
"Max, please." Jeremy looked at me angrily.
"I've never heard anyone say her name! I've always just referred to her as, an answer I guess." I laughed again and realized what I was saying. I looked at her and she seemed kind of shocked. "She's never introduced her self." This was true. "She's only lived here so long." Also true.
"Stop Max." I was done already. "You could have asked her instead of just insulting her at a time like this. And an answer? What is that even supposed to mean?" Jeremy was often very tolerable of me. I guess not today.
"She's only told me things and asked me simple yes or no questions. That's all."
"Did you know his name?" Jeremy looked at Cynthia and she nods. "So why do you not know her name?"
"It's fine Jeremy. I never did introduce myself and I really have only lived her for a short time now."
"See, she knows what I'm talking about." I put my hands in the air as to defend myself.
"Just leave Max." He looks down at his plate.
"Can I take my plate?" I ask sounding like a stubborn teen.
"I'm not your father. Do what you want. Just do it somewhere else." He begins to eat again and everything is silent. "Max." I didn't leave yet.
"You're serious? Because I didn't know the girls name?"
"Cynthia! Her name is Cynthia! Not, The Girl, not one of your smart ass answers. Her name is Cynthia. Now please, just go!" I look at him but he doesn't look back. Tony looks at me as if he's the scared little brother. I roll my eyes and leave my spot at the table. I leave my food as well. The potato salad wasn't even that good.
I like to think I'm a different person. I really do. But the truth is that I am not. And I can't be unless I do something about it. And I don't know what to do.
Last week I was a Caleb Followill looking guy playing acoustic guitar in a coffee shop for a living. I was in love with the counter girl but the counter girl had this rock star looking boy friend. He wore the leather jackets and biker boots. All his shirts were grease stained. He stood a good 6' 4" and was easily a little over 200 pounds. He was big and cool and I was some small dude with a bad hair cut and an acoustic guitar.
I began to write a story about this but realized; I do not want fan girls. I will not be the next Nicholas Sparks. Yes, he probably has bank and his books aren't too bad. But I do not want a fan base built up by junior high girls. Can you imagine being mobbed by brace faces and jelly bracelets? I can, and I don't like it.
So last night I was trying to think of a new story. While thinking up this plot, I was also thinking how much I didn't want to come up with something. I wanted a real life. Not some fantasy on paper.
"Pass the potato salad?" I ask Jeremy.
Now Jeremy and his girlfriend made us all eat together tonight so I couldn't think in my regular comforting environment. But hell, we had good food finally.
"Something smells good." Tony comes in the door rubbing his stomach. "What's for eats?"
Tony still talked like a child, and it bothered me. "What's for dinner?" I corrected him, "Look at the table, it's all there."
"Thank you Mr. Salinger for your great literal knowledge and pointing out the obvious." Tony and I were never really too close.
"Your welcome Bieber." I called him this since his recent hair cut. He literally looked like a fifteen year old boy. This bothered me as well.
"Looks good." He says ignoring my answer. "Special occasion?"
"We've got some good news to share with you guys." Jeremy's girlfriend says. God, what was her name?
"That we have a functioning stove?" Tony jokes and kisses the girl on the forehead as a thank you for her ability to cook the average American dinner.
"Well, we did find that out, but it's even better news." Jeremy puts his fork down and wipes his hands clean on his jeans. Classy. "Would you like to tell them?" Jeremy looks at her and she smiles and gives a hand motion to tell him to say what ever it is. "I proposed to Cynthia this morning in the coffee shop. It was really great. Every one was awing and clapping and it was all really cute." So that was her name. "Then the best part was that, she said yes." He looked up from his downward gaze and into Cynthia's eyes. They were a bright blue color. Her hair was done up in a messy bun. It was dark brown and her skin was pale white. She was really something, but Cynthia? What kind of name was that.
I sat there looking at her and began to laugh.
"What?" Me and Cynthia never talked, there was the occasional, Jeremy wont be home till later, but for the most part, I didn't even know her name. So she looked slightly confused as she tried to laugh with me.
"Your name is Cynthia?" I shook my head and laughed again. She stopped laughing.
"Max, please." Jeremy looked at me angrily.
"I've never heard anyone say her name! I've always just referred to her as, an answer I guess." I laughed again and realized what I was saying. I looked at her and she seemed kind of shocked. "She's never introduced her self." This was true. "She's only lived here so long." Also true.
"Stop Max." I was done already. "You could have asked her instead of just insulting her at a time like this. And an answer? What is that even supposed to mean?" Jeremy was often very tolerable of me. I guess not today.
"She's only told me things and asked me simple yes or no questions. That's all."
"Did you know his name?" Jeremy looked at Cynthia and she nods. "So why do you not know her name?"
"It's fine Jeremy. I never did introduce myself and I really have only lived her for a short time now."
"See, she knows what I'm talking about." I put my hands in the air as to defend myself.
"Just leave Max." He looks down at his plate.
"Can I take my plate?" I ask sounding like a stubborn teen.
"I'm not your father. Do what you want. Just do it somewhere else." He begins to eat again and everything is silent. "Max." I didn't leave yet.
"You're serious? Because I didn't know the girls name?"
"Cynthia! Her name is Cynthia! Not, The Girl, not one of your smart ass answers. Her name is Cynthia. Now please, just go!" I look at him but he doesn't look back. Tony looks at me as if he's the scared little brother. I roll my eyes and leave my spot at the table. I leave my food as well. The potato salad wasn't even that good.
I like to think I'm a different person. I really do. But the truth is that I am not. And I can't be unless I do something about it. And I don't know what to do.