How A Writer Brain Can Take Over Your Life, Blob Style
Sometimes, having a Writer Brain really sucks, especially when you’re worried about something. Now, when you’re writing a scene or plotting a novel, it’s great to have your brain flying forward and imagining all these possible scenarios. For instance, a young woman walks into a restaurant. Here are things that could happen:
- She sits alone at a table. Checks her watch. Orders. We think she’s been stood up. We find out that she wasn’t expecting anyone at all. She’s a lonely woman who pretends to be waiting for someone, and hopes maybe one night, someone will share dinner with her.
- She meets some girlfriends for a reunion. They haven’t seen each other in ten years. She is having an affair with one of the women’s husbands.
- She meets a man she’s been set up on a blind date with. He is seated at the table. He’s cute. They laugh. They flirt. After a bottle of wine, he gets up to go to the bathroom and she sees that he has really short legs. In fact, the guy is only about 4’4”.
See? Lots of possibilities. But when you apply this same Writer Brain to a real life situation, it sucks. Big time. In fact, a Writer Brain can take over your life Blob-Style.
Consider Kealoha’s concussion that I mentioned last week.
In reality, I know that he has a mild concussion and that they’re very common and that unless something goes really wrong, he’ll be totally fine in the next few weeks. Hopefully before the wedding.
But it’s that phrase “unless something goes really wrong” that makes my brain go into overdrive.
Here’s what I’ve been thinking. I imagine full scenes happening in which:
- Kealoha goes in for a scan and finds his brain is swelling at an abnormal pace. They call him in for immediate brain surgery. I have to work but Kealoha tells me he’s fine. It’s only a little neurosurgery. Then he gets his head shaved and is operated on. He has to relearn how to walk. At our wedding, he waits for me at the aisle in his wheelchair. It’s very emotional because everyone is like, dude, he just had brain surgery and he’s still here. He must really want to get married. He can't say "I do", but he can say "Errggg" and everyone pretty much thinks that counts.
OR
- Kealoha’s brain is so rattled that he can no longer smell or taste anything. He has a life changing moment where he decides he needs to hit every tiki bar in the country before he can say his vows, in the hopes of getting back his taste and smell. He packs his bag and decides to take a trip for a while. He’s not sure if he’ll be back for the wedding, but he’ll try.
OR
- Kealoha falls into a deep coma. That’s all I’ll say about that one, because everything that happens in this scenario is so depressing that I can’t even talk about it.
For some reason, my Writer Brain didn’t envision what actually happened.
- Kealoha goes in for a scan. It takes five minutes. They say that if anything is really wrong, he’ll hear from the doctor right away. Friday ticks away. We don’t hear anything from the doctor, thus we can assume everything is fine. We spend the weekend taking it easy. I run errands, obsess, and am generally anxious. Kealoha takes codeine and giggles. And he takes naps.
Hopefully, everything will be just fine. It will be just fine. I’m just having a deep panic attack about the wedding. And whenever I’m happy, I brace for something bad happening. So. I know this. I know I need to relax and stop worrying.
My biggest worry is my weight. I've been trying to lose weight for two months, but I lose some and then gain it back. I'm not committed enough to do a deprivation diet. I just can't! I also know that I am the same weight I was last year so I need to stop obsessing about what everyone will think of me when I walk down that aisle. I need to remember that the people coming to the wedding are our closest friends and family and they love both me and Kealoha just the way we are.
Ah. I do need to say that in all my terrible visions, I never once imagined abandoning Kealoha even after he needed speech therapy and had to relearn how to walk. In my mind, I’m always there with him. I even push the wheelchair.
Now that’s love.
Strange but True
So I was downstairs watching "True Blood" and all of a sudden Kealoha's computer came on AND THEN THE MOUSE ON THE SCREEN STARTED MOVING and things started opening and closing and Twitter popped on the screen and then off and then the iTunes store came up while I could see the little arrow on the mouse MOVING ACROSS THE SCREEN and I thought "Maybe I'm doing this with my mind" or "Maybe this is a Ouija board-like computer" or "The computer's possessed! It's like in True Blood! The Wiccans have come!" or "Wait a minute! His computer is moving and opening things and maybe someone from a small island is acessing all of his account information which is now my account information too and maybe they're taking EVERYTHING WE OWN!"
But then I crept up to the computer and discovered that Kealoha was controlling the computer via remote control (there was a note on there that said so. I waved at the screen in case he was watching).
So I guess the power of my brain had nothing to do with it, nor was anyone hacking into our account and stealing our very meager savings and identities.
I'm relieved, but a little sad it wasn't my mind power. That would've been really cool if I could operate a computer just by thinking about it. There are a lot of other mechanical devices I'd like to do that with...uh...like the TV.
Gnomes & the Application to Date Me filled out by Kealoha
I woke up this morning with a firm plan. 1) I will work out for an hour at the MVP.
2) I will fix a chapter in FOODIES.
3) I will eat a balanced breakfast with lots of fruit.
4) I will go to my voice over at 10 and be totally relaxed.
Yeah. That went out the window right away. I’m currently on my second cup of coffee, no breakfast, and I won’t have time to work out because I’ve been looking at wedding stuff all morning and behaving like a ridiculous girl. You know, that silly kind of girl in horror movies that’s all stupid and says in a high, soft voice: “Oh! I think I’ll go down this incredibly scary dark alley all by myself because surely a crazed killer wouldn’t hide there!”
I blame my Mother-in-Law-To-Be. She sent me links to beautiful frilly dresses and now I Can’t. Stop. Clicking. (Check out one of the sites she sent me HERE.) I also can’t stop thinking about if I wear poofy crinoline, just how enormous will the lower half of me look?
I don’t want to look like I’m hiding children under my dress. Or gnomes or something. That would be bad wedding behavior.
To stop obsessively looking at dresses I can’t even fit into (because I’m not working out enough or eating well enough), I started tweaking our wedding website.
We have the cutsie story of how we met. It’s very “When Harry Met Sally”, but without the orgasm scene in the restaurant, although I’ve done plenty of moaning over a good meal.
Anyway, remember that application to date me I posted about a year ago? And that Kealoha actually filled it out. Here’s the application he sent me. I’m posting it because it’s cute. And manly. Really, it takes a real man to fill out an application to date someone, especially when that someone is you. Or me. Or whatever. Anyway, it was flattering to the nth degree. And here it is:
Now back to obsessively clicking. Wish I could find a good 1950s style dress that won’t make me look like a whale and will highlight my cleavage without turning it into a the sole focus of the evening. I really don’t want people to say “Man, I don’t remember anything about that wedding but Tanya had ENORMOUS boobs, and I’m pretty sure there were gnomes hiding under her dress.”
That's It! I'm Joining Weight Watchers, A Support Group & A Cult!
I've decided that I can fix all my woes by joining Weight Watchers, a support group and a cult.
It’s humid out. This is the kind of weather where I imagine what it would feel like to live in the currents of a giant’s hot, steamy breath—after consuming a gargantuan sandwich. In other words: it’s gross outside.
I think, truly, I must have some spiritual connection to the weather. On sunny, cool days I’m generally intelligent and well-adjusted. On sunny, hot days I’m a little hyper and I tend to expose my cleavage on a whim. On cold days, I’m cuddly and contemplative. Today, it being gross outside and all, I’m just plain moody.
If I played a role in Snow White and the Eight Dwarves I’d be…oh…Moody Dame. (Not quite a bitch, you see, just moody.) And when I’m moody, I obsess. Endlessly. Over everything in my life. Harrumph.
(I’m starting to annoy myself so I’m going to take a break and come back to this. Maybe I’ll have a story to tell and stop being so whiny.)
TAKE #2
This morning, I put on my yoga pants and looked at my legs and was faced with the horror that they looked, indeed, like sausage stuffed in a casing. Why? Why have I let myself get this way? And why am I eating peanut butter chocolate pie while I write this?
TAKE #3
Starting over again.
Recent stresses. My ex got married on July 3rd: three days after my 37th birthday, one day before the 4th of July. He picked up the kids after his 20 mile run and then Biff and I sat quietly in the house. I started to go insane. I called my sister and she invited us over. Sweet relief. So Biff and I travelled to Belding and then went down to the beach where my sis immediately hitched us a ride on a party pontoon boat. We spent the next five hours drinking, swimming, and laughing. I had to be home at 8PM to pick up the kids. P and his new wife were dropping them off so they could catch a flight to Hawaii for their honeymoon. (Need I say that my ex and I never went on a honeymoon? He said it was too expensive.)
It turned out to be a great day. Biff and I laughed. He rubbed my back in front of people. Kissed me. My sis and I were cracking each other up. And there was a little bell inside me ringing that my ex was now remarried. Why did it sadden me so when I don’t feel any emotion for him? Biff said maybe I’m jealous that he’s moved on. It isn’t that though. Really. I’m jealous because I want to be married and I want a honeymoon and I want a man who loves me and my kids, loves me so much he can’t fathom NOT being married to me. Then I look at Biff and categorize every comment he’s made about looking for work outside of Michigan, that there’s nothing keeping him here, how he’s not really looking for an apartment because he could end up anywhere, and I think hmmmm. How much does he feel for me? Am I just a convenience? And I think maybe it’s just a matter of time before he’s out the door.
My sis says there’s no way to know if someone is going to break your heart. You just have to enjoy your time with them. But how can you do that when you don’t trust them? My ex met a woman, fell in love with her, asked her to marry him. It was easy. And now they have that comfort of being a couple, of living a shared life. Me? I’m still hobbling along, legs of sausage.
TAKE #4
I remind myself that some people like sausage. Especially Germans. And, well, foodies.
Random Blogness
Random thoughts.