Ideas I Don't Have

As I sat at my typewriter poised to churn out yet another triumphant masterpiece of American literature, another modern classic, another groundbreaking anthology of human strength, weakness, and glory, a thought popped into my head. Not just a thought, a realization. A realization so profane to me that it shook me to the core, rotted my spirit, and made me lose faith in all that is good in this world. That realization?


I've got nothing.


"Nothing?" you say? Yes, nothing.

It was a new feeling, suffice to say. I've never been anything less than perfect in any single way, so I wasn't sure how to cope with these new emotions. I ended up spending the next four hours screaming at the moon and ripping phonebooks in half. How could I possibly have nothing to write about? There's so much in this universe to talk about. There are so many marvels in this world: beautiful landscapes, remarkable people, chimps that know sign language. Surely I could find some way to insult them. 

Show-off.

Not on this night. This night there's just nothing in the tank. Sad, I suppose, to think that I've started this little writing project and three entries in I'm plumb out of things to say. Not sad like, your-puppy-got-stuck-in-the-washing-machine sad, or sad like if your baby ran away because you forgot to feed it. No, a man's dream dying is much sadder than either of those things.

But little things like that have never stopped me. If I don't have any ideas to write about, then I'll just write about the ideas I don't have.

So without further long-winded introduction, here are the ideas that I don't have, that I will not be  writing about.

I am not going to write about chapstick, because I feel that all vital information regarding chapstick can be found on the chapstick itself.

I am not going to write about dogs, because dogs generally do not speak. This makes it difficult to quote them, and without quotes my writing would not be reputable.

I am not going to write about hot dogs, because applying heat to canines does not make them any more interesting or quotable. 

I am not going to write about lunch, because lunch is the least important meal of the day and, as a result, the least amusing. The number of jokes to be made about lunch is very close to zero. In fact, there may actually be a negative number of jokes to make about lunch, but the research isn't in from the lab yet so we can't be sure. I would be much more inclined to do a piece on breakfast, or even dinner, but even then I would be preaching to a very small choir. Of fat people.

I am not going to write a full account of the history of Russia, because Russia's really big and that would be a very long blog post. Additionally, Russia has never written a full account of my personal history, so I feel no need to return any favors. If Russian novelists did see fit to make a written account of my life, I would probably feel obliged to write about Russia. The ball is really in their court.

I am not going to write about advanced spelunking techniques, because my level of expertise in the world of cave diving is intermediate at best.

I am not going to write about vegetarianism, because screw vegetarians. 

I am not going to write about the moon landing, because I do not write about fictional nonsense.

I am not going to write about James Cameron and the snubbing of Avatar for Best Picture, because I am still too upset to write about this subject and The Hurt Locker was NOWHERE NEAR THE BEST MOVIE OF 2009 IT DIDN'T CHANGE ANYTHING IN THE MOVIE INDUSTRY AND AVATAR CREATED A WHOLE NEW WAY OF LOOKING AT CGI I AM SO MAD RIGHT NOW WHERE ARE MY PHONEBOOKS?!?!


Ahem.


I really think that's all that needs to be said on this matter. The moral of the story here?

Don't write with writer's block.

Wasting Time

Want to feel depressed? Try this. Next time you're trying to fall asleep, think about the day you just had. Think about the ups and the downs, the decisions you made, the obstacles you faced. All the events that unfolded before you, and all the ways you responded to the world. What did you do that was different, special? Now when you're done meditating on your day, ask yourself one important question: How much of this will I remember next year? Or next week? Tomorrow?

Well I lied, that was three questions actually, but important questions nonetheless. On any given day, none of us do anything worth noting. We work, or play, or study, or read. We interact with each other, minimally, just to make sure we're still human and that our loved ones haven't been kidnapped and replaced by robotic replicas. Then we sneak in a couple meals, an hour or two of TV, and drift off to sleep, ready to do it all over again in the morning. How often do we make permanent, life-altering decisions? The kind that really shape who we are, or the world we live in? The kind that, you know, define us as people? Maybe four, five times in a decade. 

I have no data to back this up, but I've got a pretty good memory, and I certainly can't think of many moments that make me look back and say, "Wow, I wonder who I would be today if that never happened?" or, "Wow, I'm sure glad I made that decision!" More often, it's "Wow, I spent the whole day doing playing online Scrabble?" or "Wow, I need to get a life!"

Life? What's that?

And the more I think about that, the more I wonder if other people are going through this. But that's an easy one. Of course they do.

Because we all waste our time. All of us.

Again, exaggeration. There are people who are hard-driving and committed to their goals, who waste no time getting to the top. The kind of people who give up social contact and leisure and Oreos to chase their dreams, and constantly devote themselves to success and self-betterment in the face of adversity and defeat. Then again, have you met these people? Not a smiley bunch.

Someone needs an Oreo

The reality is, 99% of us have our vices, our weaknesses. TV, video games, poetry slams, you name it. We've got things we invest our precious lives and even more precious time in, without realizing how little they help us develop as human beings. And then we'll look back in 20 years, 10 if we're lucky, and laugh at ourselves for ever thinking it was a good use of time to concern ourselves with such petty nonsense.

But until that glorious day comes, we don't just accept our time-wasting, we justify it. We tell ourselves it's okay to watch just a few hours of the game show network, because, after all, we've had a tough day at work and we just want to unwind and escape the working world and all its dull monotony. By staring at a box.

If we stare long enough maybe our lives will become as interesting as theirs

I'm guilty too. I'm not ashamed to admit that I like baseball. But I am a bit ashamed to admit that I devote three to five hours of my day to a sport I've never played, following the stories of athletes I've never met, holding stock in a team whose accomplishments are in no way tied to my own. A bit. But hey, shame is the price I pay to get the most out of my time-wasting!

I actually came to most of the realizations that I'm writing about when I finished playing a video game recently. Near the end of the game, there is a sequence in which you lose all the items you have worked so hard to find, and you must finish with only the most bare essentials. And it upset me. Why did I work so hard if it was all going to be taken away from me? What a waste of time.

Because this wasn't already a waste of time

And then I realized, they never took it away. I never had it. It was all make believe, and here I was, getting worked up that the same people who gave me imaginary armor and weaponry had the power to take it away. It was not the game's fault for taking it from me. It was my fault for investing myself in things that aren't even real. Things that won't help me. Things that don't matter. Am I this vain, this materialistic? That I cannot bear to lose objects that exist only in a fantasy land, simply because I feel entitled to them? No, I'm not materialistic. I just can't be bothered to do anything more important than waste my time worrying about such nonsense.

I'm not saying that we need to keep track of every second we waste and make up for it by going 90 on the freeway, or that every waking moment needs to be a blinding fury of assembly-line productivity. And I'm not implying that we can't have hobbies, that would be ridiculous and unreasonable. What I am saying is, maybe our hobbies shouldn't be things like Tetris or frequenting the Craigslist personal sections, but things that matter. And maybe, just maybe, if we could overcome our fear of going outside and talking to people, we'd see that they're not so scary after all. Says Mike from the safety of his keyboard.

Driving

Ah, driving. It's a great thing when you're a teenager. Youth, freedom, adventure, all found behind the wheel. Remember that time period between getting your learner's permit and taking your behind the wheel test? When you dreamed of what glorious expeditions would follow as you cruised down Main Street doing 80, blasting music with the top down and your majestic, Fabio-esque locks flowing in the wind? In the middle of winter, of course. Because you didn't care about logic, or weather, or birds crapping in your hair. You were free.

 

Pictured above: freedom

I italicized free, but I should have italicized were, because that time period comes and goes pretty fast. And when it's over you realize how petty and hopeless all your dreams turned out to be. Driving does not free your spirit. It does not enhance your looks, or help you build lasting friendships with your peers, or give you straight A's in school. And it certainly doesn't help transform you into an Italian modeling god with perfect hair.

Or does it?

Driving is just a task, a necessity that we have grown too attached to to get rid of, despite how much we all grow to hate it. It does nothing but make our pathetic, miserable lives that much more pathetic and miserable. It is a scourge of modern civilization, a plague on our existence, an indescribable evil. Why?

Because everyone who has ever driven is an idiot.

You may be thinking "Oh Mike, that's not true!", or "Not me, I'm a good driver!". But if you are thinking either of those things then you are simultaneously wrong and an idiot. There is no such thing as a "good driver"; if there were, we wouldn't need signs telling us to slow down in front of schools and stay quiet in front of hospitals. In a perfect world, we'd let common sense tell us that honking at diseased patients and mowing down tiny children in crosswalks are typically frowned upon.

But this isn't a perfect world, this is America. Where we let sophomores in high school, who already have enough on their plate with their algebra and their Spanish and their coloring books, operate 3000-pound death machines with top speeds upwards of 100 miles per hour. But hey they took an eight week course in school so they're qualified!

Pictured: Qualified experts

I remember my driving test vividly, for two reasons. For one, it was one of the top five nervous moments of my life at the time. But second, and more important, it was one of the top three easiest tasks I have ever accomplished, right behind learning to use the microwave and taking Calculus at 7:30 in the morning.


I remember thinking it was a joke. I had only taken four hour-long driving training sessions, none of which had me drive in crowded city traffic or busy parking lots. You know, the two things I really suck at and still have trouble with to this day. And then there I was, waiting in the DMV with sweaty palms, heart beating out of my chest, for what?


A test that ended up lasting eight minutes.


I drove around the block, through a neighborhood, and then back to the DMV, where I was told I was a "marvelous" driver. Which wasn't true; I received three deductions for coming slowly out of a curve, failing to look over my shoulder before turning, and mild speeding. That was three out of the maximum fifteen deductions I could have gotten, and still passed. So next time you're driving in America and you see some moron weaving in and out of lanes, speeding, and putting other people's lives in danger, make sure you give him fifteen chances before you get mad.


And I say America because it really is a problem with our system. We wouldn't have these morons if we trained our drivers properly. There are countries that are worse, sure, but then there are countries that are so much better. Like Sweden.

No surprise, their flag is literally a four-way intersection

If you're not up-to-date on the latest international motor vehicle rules and regulations, then this nifty Wikipedia article should fill you in. Swedish drivers begin training at age 16 and may receive their license once they are 18, after a two year process that includes 22 preliminary tests and training exercises before they take the actual driver's test. 

But that doesn't matter, right? There's morons everywhere, no matter what the law states. True, but if Sweden is full of morons, it's at least full of safe morons. Note Sweden's fatality rate, second lowest in the world, fourfold better than the good old US of A. 

But no one complains. No one blames this lack of training for these fatal accidents. It is the norm and so we have adjusted, and drivers can remain as idiotic as they please, as they are the majority. So long as they stay out of Sweden, of course.

It's sad that the novelty of driving and the sense of teenage freedom that comes with it can evaporate so fast. We live in a wonderful modern world, where truly marvelous advancements in technology have made it so we can literally erase the distance between ourselves and the world around us with ease. We have modern experts of science and engineering that devote their lives to building us shiny toys and convenient luxuries, with the sole purpose of improving the quality of our lives. 

And all of it is wasted on idiots.