Something Vague

Note: This is something very old I wrote in college about 4 years ago that I thought would be neat to share with all of you. We had to write about what inspires us to write. Since  that time period, I stopped writing, stopped smoking, and stopped getting that feeling of inspiration. Luckily, I managed to find my muse once again and now have the courage to share one of my favorite pieces of writing with the world. So here you are. Something Vague.

 

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Inspiration, for me, is usually something vague that takes place in completely random places. I’ve grown very accustomed to always having a pen with me so I can write anywhere when that inspiration strikes – even if that means writing on my arms while driving in the car.

It’s a system that never fails. When I have to meet a deadline nothing ever comes to mind. However, when I’m at work, driving to a doctor’s appointment, in the middle of cooking, or doing things with friends, ideas just bleed out of me.

I believe it has something to do with always having access to my beloved, random pen. There’s nothing like physically writing with a utensil on a blank page, a semi-used or fresh napkin, or in most cases for me, an arm, or a palm, or even a thigh if I’m wearing shorts. I’m not one for technology, so I find that while I’m sitting in front of a computer screen I’m as blank as the Word document. I suppose you can call me old fashioned.

Maybe it’s just me, but there’s nothing better than sitting down with a notepad and pen and spinning out tales and rhymes while getting that feeling of muse. That actually is my favorite part of the writing process – getting that feeling. I can’t describe it as anything other than muse.

Usually I can feel the blood pumping through my veins with a warm, tingling sensation. I start to smoke a cigarette at that point if the location allows. I feel it really gets my creative juices flowing. After my tainted breathing treatment I can feel the gears in my brain start turning. By this point, I can actually picture them turning like the insides of a clock.

Now my blood is pulsing and warmer than what any average temperature should be. My brain now knows that I’m ready to begin my art. If I could pick any sensation to have for the rest of my life, that feeling of muse would be what I choose.

Where does that feeling occur most? At the most inconvenient times, of course. Like I said, it’s a system that never fails. It’s beautiful though, like the things that inspire – triggering words to flow like musical notes on a staff.

Nevertheless, when someone asks me, “What inspires you?”, I think about the question for a while baffled by its simplicity. Then I realize it’s nothing in particular at all. It’s whatever prompts me to pick up that pen and scribble all over whatever I can find. It can be something trivial like a spider spinning its web, or something titanic like the world’s current state of narcissism.

In retrospect, to answer the question of, “What inspires you?”, the only answer is, Something Vague.

(Photo from google search)

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