Let's start thinking about what we're going to submit this week. The week flies by like my favorite song on the radio, which is James Bay's "Let it Go." When I hear that song I imagine a little church girl singing—her voice carrying through the pews. Why does the radio speed it up? Can't we just be happy with a lulling melody? That's what I'll write about—how radio stations speed up slow songs. Remember John Legend's "All of Me," that wasn't meant to be a song to vibe out in a club to. Quit talking about your breakfast on the radio, let me enjoy some music! Thank heavens for FM transmitters, where is that thing? In the backseat, that's perfect. I definitely should write about that: driving down the road and realizing you need something, but hey guess what? Too bad so sad because you're driving.
Wait a second, focus. I don't think I could get enough out of that. What other ideas can I write about? There's plenty of current news I could discuss. My opinion matters too, has Donald Trump done anything crazy recently? I'll have to look into that. Crap, I have to get to work and this car is driving terribly slow. I could write about balancing an artist's life with the average hustle and bustle day job. Everyone thinks that artists become bar tenders so they can spend their days writing or doing whatever sort of art they do. That's not true. Artists are functional human beings too! If anything, we make sense of this chaotic society. We give the world color, we're the greens and blues in a box of gray crayons.
Crayons remind me that I need to buy a pack of colored pencils for my adult coloring book. Whoever thought of that is making serious cash. I should have thought about that. I've always said that I love to color and boom! Adult coloring books come out and those things are not as relaxing as they seem. Someone's reading my mind, the government is stealing my ideas to make money off me. You can't have my mind government! Only I can control my brain! Or can I? Do I even have control over my brain or does it control itself? If my brain tells me what to do, does that mean I'm a machine operating with a squishy computer chip? I bet there's a small man in there... no, there's a small woman in there. Be honest, a man would tear up the main office of the brain like he was Superman trying to save the city from evil. Kick this, punch that, get thrown into this wall, fly away dramatically. Repeat. For such a complex system to operate a woman needs to have a whiteboard set up with sticky notes and push pins reminding her when to perform certain functions. She will have a computer manual (or is it a brain manual?) for reference when it comes to enacting emotions. I like things organized, you're killing it up there brain lady.
I swear to high heavens is that a pimple? I'm going to write about pimples. Those bad boys come out of nowhere. One day you're proud of your clean and happy glowy skin shining bright like a diamond and what not, then you're staring a miniature volcano right in its red eye. I'll write about that infuriating pimple on my... shoulder? No, absolutely not. Too weird, everyone would judge me. My readers would stop reading, they'd think I was crazy. Aren't we all a little crazy though? The mad-hatter once said "All the best people are mad," in a Tim Burton film. I haven't read the book, I definitely should. I need to sit down and make a list of all the classic novels I need to read. I can't call myself a writer if I haven't read some of those widely known classics. Maybe I just won't tell anyone I've never read it. How will anyone know? I could write about all the novels I want to read. That way I'll have to sit down and make the list then that list will always be on the internet for me to reference! I've figured it out, America! I'm finally onto something here.
Ah, crap. I missed my deadline.
