versus Writing

One of my friends – possibly you reading this right now – once asked me, “What do you get out of writing?  You sit in your room for hours at a time, poking your head out every now and then to pee or raid the fridge.  Often times you are in a bad mood, shun daylight, and give the cat uncalled-for dirty looks.  And then you never let me see what you’re working on.  So, really, what do you possibly hope to gain from putting yourself through all that?”

Well, Friend, what do I hope to gain? In a perfect world: Superpowers.  I’m going to make a concerted effort to gain some sort of ability during the writing of this little essay, and hopefully, by the time I’m done I will be ready to don a cape and a mask.  Is it realistic of me to hope for this to actually work?  Probably not, but hey, nothing ventured is nothing gained right?  Why NOT superpowers?  I will give you periodic updates.

But, naturally, there are a few less ambitious reasons why I like to write, not the least of which is your basic, garden variety, deep-seated, nigh-pathological need to make things up.  Some people might refer to this as “lying,” but those are people I might refer to as “morons.”  I consider myself an honest person – unless, of course, I could gain something by dishonesty like a new car or a spot closer to the front of Starbucks line – and the idea of someone calling me a liar simply because what I’m saying can’t be verified by facts or other such contrivances really gets my spellchecker in a twist.  I like to think of my telling of falsehoods more of an exploration of all possibilities in any given situation than a malicious attempt to mislead.  It’s more of a good-natured attempt to mislead.  Occasionally, yes, some possibilities I explore are less likely than others, but that’s where the fun lives, right?  Can I get an Amen?

Superpower update:  Hmm...I'm clearly not super-strong, my bed failed to move an inch when I tried lifting it one-handed.  Blast!

One problem that I seem to have, is controlling said penchant for making things up. All too often, if I’m not paying close enough attention, I will suddenly find my own mind wandering down the corridors of make-believe – usually without informing me of this decision – poking and prodding everything in sight and generally making a nuisance of itself.  Luckily, I’ve developed a technique – known as Second Sight (kind of sounds all cool and supernatural, right?  Oh yeah!) – that allows me do what I was doing before AND indulge in the jaunt to the inner recesses of my mind.  I must stress that this is different from day-dreaming in that I can function at a very high level during one of these episodes.

 Superpower update:  I just ruled out two powers!  I threw myself at my wall and did NOT stick to it as hoped.  As a result, I banged my knee very hard and it is swelling up, thus proving I have not acquired any sort of Enhanced Healing ability.  I need some ice.

This Second Sight process I employ is a common skill among the people of Northern NH where I grew up.  You see, up there, there is usually nothing to do.  Ever.  Except maybe to shovel snow 9 to 10 months out of the year and hunting – which consists mainly of sitting in the snow, while holding a gun, instead of moving it.  So, as a people, we can do many tasks while letting our brains go off and enjoy themselves, but in my particular case I make up wild scenarios with only the most tangential relationship to what is going on in the moment.  I’ve perfected my technique so well that I can even carry on basic conversations while using my Second Sight.

Superpower update: My frustration has grown deeper.  I cannot move at the speed of sound, nor can I create fire with only my thoughts.  I can't even see through walls!  I mean, I thought x-ray vision was supposed to be one of the lowest powers on the totem pole!  Hope is fading...and my knee still hurts.

Here is an example of a typical Second Sighted conversation:
     Random Man:  Great weather, isn’t it.
     Gabe:  Yeah, it is.  Best day of the year so far.
     Gabe’s Brain:  Holy Jeebus!  Look at the size of that dude’s mustache!  It looks like he snorted two feather-dusters!
     Random Man:  A bit windy though.  I was hoping to go to the shore, now I’m not so sure.
     Gabe:  Were you going to go sailing?  It would be a nice day for sailing.
     Gabe’s Brain:  With a mustache like that, this guy better have a great name.  Like, Harold, Lord of Lip Plumage or perhaps, Gregorovitch , the Last Samurai of Face Braids.  Oooh!  Maybe the mustache ITSELF has a name.  It looks like a Petey, to me.

     Random Man:  No, I don’t have a boat. I really want one though.  Or at least a jet ski.
     Gabe:  I hear ya, man.  Jet skis are the best.
     Gabe’s Brain:  I bet Petey goes off and does things when he goes to bed; there is no way a prime specimen of luxuriant facial hair like that doesn’t have a night life.  I can see Petey now, sitting in a dark shadowy booth in the corner of some high-end nightclub, each shiny curl wrapped tightly around the waist of a giggling underage supermodel and each stroking his silky strands.  I bet he would get free drinks and everything, he’s that cool.
     Random Man:  I’d either get jet skis or one of those pontoon boats.
     Gabe: I’ve partied on one of those!  That’s living the high life.  You can barbeque in the middle of a lake then hop into the water to cool off.
     Gabe’s Brain: “Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting! A  Mus-Tache sighting!”  That would totally be Petey’s theme song!  I wonder what his signature dance move would be?  Something in the Break-Dancing family, no doubt.  Probably tie himself in a knot, then spin around on the floor so fast that before you knew it, Petey’s doing the worm and everybody is cheering and chicks are throwing their bras at him.  Man, Petey rocks!
     Random Man:  Well, I have to go now.  Have a good day!
     Gabe:  You too, Petey!
     Random Man: Huh?

Superpower update:  Depression has set in...no laser vision...no ability to communicate with animals, bugs, or sea-creatures...I can't even levitate myself...hell, I can't even walk to the friggin' bathroom without limping.  There are only two powers left to try:  the ability to fly and invulnerability.  I am not ashamed to admit that fear and doubt are making me stall in the testing of these last two.

 You see?  This is what I have to deal with nearly every minute of every day of my life.  The above conversation was a complete work of fiction but it is something that would probably go through my head and it just goes to show you that my mind will do anything to amuse itself – I mean, c’mon, Petey the Break-Dancing Mustache?  That’s…that’s something I should develop a bit further…but not here.  I’m trying to tell you why I write.  Bottom line is that if I don’t write these things down they would overflow the shallow depths of my mind, spill into my general consciousness and attempt to escape to freedom through my mouth and could very well destroy the world as we know it!  I can’t be responsible for that kind of devastation.

Superpower update:  HAHA!  I've done it!  I've actually gained a superpower!  For those of you that have read this thing all the way to the end you have effectively given me control over your minds!  Haha!  I have mind control powers!  WAHOO!  Now, my faithful minion, I want you to bring me cheese!  Lots and lots of cheese!  That's it...the cheddar, yes, very good....