TipsyLit: Prompted: On Trial

Dear Brain,

I’m putting you on trial. Why is it that when I’m in the shower you can come up with the world’s most brilliant post when you know full well that I’ll forget it all by the time I’m near a pen? Do you think composing brilliant things on the fly while I’m stuck in traffic on the way to pick up the kids is helpful to me? FYI, it’s not.

I try to get around you by writing pop-up topics on a handy-dandy notepad I keep around for just such occasions, but then when I look at my notes later I start to wonder if you, Brain, were on crack when I wrote them. “Party Mix”? You mean like the chips or the iTunes compilation? What does that even mean? I have no idea, but you thought you were being brilliant when you made me write it down. “Kid-free shopping”? Yeah, I can write about that, but I can’t seem to remember what you though was soooo hilarious about dragging screaming kids around a grocery store. It’s not funny being that mom. Trust me.

Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I submit to you, my Brain, the most creative part of my entire being, is systematically trying to drive me insane, a little bit at a time, each and every day.

It wants to write. I want to write. I’m a busy woman. I have 2 kids, neither of whom are conducive to me spending large amounts of time in front of a keyboard. My Brain knows this. I’m sure of it. Hey Brain! Why can’t you be all brilliant when I have the time to write your thoughts down in full? Do you think you are being helpful by making me think I’m a scintillating writer while I’m washing dishes, and then summarily blanking on me as soon as I boot up my laptop? I assure you, you’re not.

As I sit here typing this I’m frustrated because I’m thirsty and I know that as soon as I get up to make a cup of tea, you’ll start spouting all kinds of brilliant stuff at… yourself. Only because you know I’m 100 feet away from any means of writing it down. Why do you hate me so?

In conclusion, I charge you, Brain, with making me creative, but holding me back from being the truly artistic person I KNOW I can be. That I KNOW I am.

I’m sorry Brian; I’m going to have to sentence you to a lifetime of me getting better at writing your genius down. It’s not fair that you keep it all locked up inside my head. You know what? Screw you Brain and the cranium you rode in on. I’m calling you out.

And I’m writing it down.

Case

Closed.

via Prompted: On Trial.

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