Chuck Norris Won’t Let Me Write

I’m preparing to write a masterful blog post.

It’s a daunting endeavor. First of all, I must think of a gripping subject matter. This task is often the hardest. Thoughts are fleeting. Focus is fickle. Therefore, food is required to get the little gray cells firing.

This stomach-feeding process is also daunting. Frozen pizza is chilling in the freezer, and leftover pasta waits hopefully in the fridge, banking on the fact that this time I’ll seek its solace before mold, the Grim Reaper of Forgotten Concoctions, claims another victim. Somehow, though food is abundantly available, my brain suddenly realizes: “There’s nothing to eat in this house.” This is a conundrum, and one that seems to puzzle the entire family at times. Since  there is nothing to eat, I mournfully shut the fridge and grab a handful of pretzels, a strawberry breakfast bar, and a sandwich before sauntering off to write brilliant content.

When I plop down on my bed, the little gray cells have another epiphany: “We have nothing about which to write.” This is upsetting. When one is in the mood to create brilliance, one expects to have thoughts and ideas readily available.

Google, as always, is happy to help. It lists top ten things about which to blog and pontificates about how to entice a captive audience. However, Google is also a gaping worm hole. My feeble brain suddenly awakens to the fact that I’ve been circumnavigating many planets for many minutes and have landed in the alien world of Youtube, which boasts the main attraction, “If Google Was a Guy: Part 1, 2, 3, ad infinitum”.

I am upset by this discovery. Youtube, who so blatantly masquerades as Google, has misdirected masterful thoughts yet again. Google sends a rescue party, bearing the hopeful banner of “time management” and “efficient time usage”. Unfortunately, the first rescue team burdens its victims with a comprehensive list of tips, totaling sixty-five in number. Disheartened, the little gray cells realize that they don’t have the time to read 65 tips on time management. There is writing to be done.

The brain is wracked for any interesting conversations that day. That tack is abandoned, when the brain realizes that the most interesting conversation was one that was accidentally eavesdropped upon and cannot be repeated, however interesting it may be. This is disappointing, but cannot be helped. This leads to a stream of consciousness regarding the sin of eavesdropping, and whether that sin can truly to be laid to the charge of writers. Unanimously, the little gray cells agree that the guilt of eavesdropping should be charged to the main culprits: obnoxiously loud speakers.

I glance at the clock, who drones: 10:33 PM. I don’t care for its lackadaisical attitude and say so. The clock does not care about my fleeting moments and does not bother to say so. Its judgmental face speaks volumes, however.

My phone lights up. Chuck Norris is attacking my village.

 

from-rupert-grint-to-chuck-norris-who-are-the-best-redheads-in-movies-647271.jpg

The Conqueror

He, of course, lays it to waste. A level ten town hall is no match for Chuck; he is the unspoken High Master of Clash of Clans. Out of the goodness of his heart, he does leave my village with enough elixir to start constructing another Tesla tower. He does not, however, leave my village with a shield. My phone lights up again, this time bearing the chilling inscription: “Your mom is attacking your village.” Heartsick and weary, I remove the dagger from my back and return to writing.

Pandora streams through my earbuds. The song has words. I sing along and accidentally type the song lyrics onto my laptop’s blinking, white screen. Though Adele is a word master, typing   “Hello, can you hear me?” seems ill-suited to the digital space. The station is switched to Solo Piano. The piano is loud and contrarily bang-y, a combination which is protested. Pandora takes the abrupt skip as an affront and dares further protestations with a decisive slap to the face, in the form of “The Entertainer”.

The white flag is flown. Pandora and Youtube and Google and Chuck Norris and your Mom win. Decisively.

The little gray cells wonder: “Can a post be constructed out of these trials?“. However, they are distracted by the siren lure of sleep and fluffy comforters.

Nah,” they decide, yawning largely,

Writing is hard work. Especially masterful writing. And tomorrow is a new day.

Brainy Quotes, associated with Google, said so.

 

 

 

 

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About loverofwords20

Allison is an aspiring author, and a lover of words, music, and the Lord Jesus Christ. She is also abysmal at these “about you” things, being unable to think of quirky characteristics at the drop of a hat. However, she enjoys singing randomly and loudly, and laughing hysterically while being caught in the rain.
This entry was posted in Blogging, Humor, Musings, Original writing, Uncategorized, Writing and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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