Status: Fin
Creativity is Dead
Lonely Writing
Once upon a time there was a handsome rocker-prince that found himself in quite the pradicament. Tyler Carter was not just a pretty face, or a beautiful voice; he was an Excel gurou. Finding himself at a loss for lyrical ideas, he turned to the only other pasttime he finds comfort in; creating spreadsheets. He entered useless data and preformed functions to his heart’s content. The AVERAGE, MIN, and NOW were some of his favorites; PMT was not among them. He decided that Function AutoComplete was annoying, so he chose not to use it.
He created an Excel table and preformed logical tests- specifying the criteria, of course. He was then disracted by the multiple fangirls vying for his princely attention. They ripped his clothes, and pulled his hair. They would do anything just to touch the musical god. When, finally, they dispersed; he stared at the tattered remains of his favorite shirt and sighed. He would just have to finish his worksheet shirtless.
He entered arguments and comparison operators. He calculated the present value of his record label’s investment in his album, and the intrest that investment entailed. He set his table in a pane and viewed the data bar.
Finally, he was finished. All that work in Excel proved as lyrical inspiration. He wrote an entire album before the night was done. He played with his puppy and pretty much embodied the definition of insomnia. Of course, now that he had nothing more to do before meeting with Michael to discuss his album ideas, he started his work in Excel all over again.
He created an Excel table and preformed logical tests- specifying the criteria, of course. He was then disracted by the multiple fangirls vying for his princely attention. They ripped his clothes, and pulled his hair. They would do anything just to touch the musical god. When, finally, they dispersed; he stared at the tattered remains of his favorite shirt and sighed. He would just have to finish his worksheet shirtless.
He entered arguments and comparison operators. He calculated the present value of his record label’s investment in his album, and the intrest that investment entailed. He set his table in a pane and viewed the data bar.
Finally, he was finished. All that work in Excel proved as lyrical inspiration. He wrote an entire album before the night was done. He played with his puppy and pretty much embodied the definition of insomnia. Of course, now that he had nothing more to do before meeting with Michael to discuss his album ideas, he started his work in Excel all over again.