First, NaNoWriMo update: I have passed 40K words and I’m on the home stretch. It’s 40K words of suckish awful, but I’m having fun. In the end, fun is always okay.
So, while deciding where to go for the next 10K words of OBAMANATION, I let my mind wander. As it wandered, I realized I do this a lot. When I’m all alone, as I often am if the kids are in school, I like to ask myself the tough questions. Why? Because if I’m editing, my brain is desperately searching for a way out. Anyway, usually it’s a pointless exercise that doesn’t even result in answers, but it wastes time so I can say I was working, when really I was just staring at the wall and laughing at my own thoughts. That’s sort of like brainstorming. Maybe one of these days my questions will spark an idea or an answer will occur that is so mind blowing, I’ll have to share it with the world and I’ll be remembered as a genius. No? I didn’t think so. Anyway, some of the questions I ponder might actually have answers, so I’m throwing them at you.
If someone LOVED a book I hated, such as 50 Shades of Shit, and they rave about how much they loved my books, should I be happy or insulted? It’s like they’re handing you a nice little present, which is attached to the trigger of a bomb.
Next, I often wonder should a psychic really have to ask your name if she is truly psychic, and why don’t they pick lottery numbers? I don’t believe that “ethics” bullshit. If you can predict the future, fucking USE IT! Are there no psychics who have played the lottery? I think this warrants further investigation, don’t you?
Why do “fat chance” and “slim chance” mean the same thing? It bothers me far more than it should. A fat chance, by definition, should mean there’s a very good chance, but it doesn’t mean that at all.
I write a lot of gardening articles, and ideal growing conditions and such are often included in these articles. One question that scratches at my brain is what’s the difference between partly sunny and partly cloudy? Seriously, how do I know I’ve given the right advice if I don’t know how to tell when we’ve moved from one to the other?
Who else presses harder on the remote control buttons when clearly the batteries are dead and no amount of force will change that fact?
Also, the other day I wrote the phrase “scared half to death” and then I deleted it because it forces me to ask what happens the second time that happens.
As I write OBAMANATION, I find myself thinking a lot about murder versus assassination, and it gets me to thinking. Does your level of importance/social status/historical impact/etc. determine whether you’ve been murdered or assassinated? And while we’re on the subject of murder, if they can make bullet-proof vests, why’d they stop there? Why aren’t soldier, cops, presidents, etc. wearing bullet-proof hats, pants, shirts and shoes?
And who the hell told superheroes that underwear outside of their clothes would be a good look?
The term “Free Gift” irritates me as much as slim chance and fat chance. I mean, it’s a gift. The free part is kind of expected, right? Also on the subject of labeling and marketing and shit, why do feminine hygiene products like douches, yeast infection stuff and tampons have “disposable” applicators? Is anyone going to reuse them?
During this pondering and time-wasting, I’ve never questioned the meaning of life. No, I have only one question for the Universe: Why lice?
What questions bother the corners of your brain? Have you found answers?