Writing me, myself, and I

“Seriously, you should listen to me,” says me. “I am the most brilliant person I know.”

I know that my ideas must be good.

I should know. I listen to myself all day.

I make sure I catch ’em ideas before they escape. ‘Em ideas arise from one end of the brain and I catch ’em before they reach the other. I’ve become quite sly. I bait ’em ideas with a few things–taking a walk, observing people, just talking to myself.

Get them crystallized before they diffuse. That’s the trick. They’re volatile, they are.

But the crystallization process is not easy.

Nowadays, some thoughts have been seeping into this blog here. I’ve been careful but a few words leaked out before I knew.

Then I had to get to polishing the leaky bits because the stains are now visible to one and all. Am not quite sure of these bloggy leaks ‘coz I don’t even have a fair share of crystallized thoughts in my stash yet.

Look at me! Already talking about crystallization.

“Don’t expose your ideas before you know what they are,” I say.
“But they’re little, cute things and they bring comments,” says me. “I like comments.”
“You’ll be embarrassed later.” I say quite seriously.
“But I need some outlet, some satisfaction at intervals. I’m human, you know.” says me.
I shift uneasily. I don’t like to be considered human. I’ve always considered myself bottledworder. Not human.
“You’re giving away your thought crystals. They could become an unusual colour. They could have promise. But once folks see just the leaks, they won’t bother to look into the main stash!”  I am alarmed.
“But will there ever be a main stash? What if there never is a main stash? What if this is it? The here and the now?”
I am silent. I am stubborn. “But there could be.”
“Okay. But why would anybody bother to look into an unknown stash? Do you know anyone who does that?”
No, I really don’t. But I am still for deferred pleasure. “Just wait a while,” I say to me.
But me is so stubborn. Me has never listened. “No, shan’t. I am me. I’ll blog.”

So I start typing.

9 thoughts on “Writing me, myself, and I”

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