The Green Jellybean

For those of us who have passed the third grade, we learned about probability. It might also relate to statistics, but I'm getting a bit off track. I have always wanted to write the American novel, except with ponies. One of my favorite fanfictions is "Don't Let the Sun Catch You Crying", a lovely novella about love. Since I am a fan of noir, I also really really like "All In: An Applejack Noire".

I hope that whoever is reading this won't get the wrong impression of my personality. I am not a "bubble-head" which writes about stuff that nopony cares about. While it is true that I am writing this pretty much like a one-shot, I sincerely hope that my thoughts intertwine and I hope I spelled that correctly because this website doesn't have spellcheck.

Anyway, I will tell you about my new story idea. Going back to my first sentence, we all have had a teacher who put in yellow and blue jellybeans into a bag to teach us about probability. So, for example, the teacher put in 5 yellow jellybeans and 5 blue jellybeans. One of the first questions he/she asked was the proability of pulling out a green jellybean. The majority of my class got the message right away, but I didn't. That was the first time I've ever heard about the impossible. Of course, I watched Tom & Jerry cartoons where old fashioned ironing boards would flatten you like a pancake if you happened to be chasing a mouse at the wrong time. But as a dumb 9 year old, I didn't understand the concept of the impossible. Now, whenever I think of something that I know can't be accomplished, I always referred it to "The Green Jellybean".

Miles Halter looked for "The Great Perhaps". The Great Gatsby looked for a yellow light which held the future and all its products into an unforeseenable fact. Yossarin became crazy because of a simple fact: everyone is trying to kill him. Me? I am looking for the impossible. In a world outside the world of ponies that were once inside a crazy women's head, I know that I will never see a pegasus flying through the air or real magic being created. If dreams are just a window that you can look out of, what is the point of reality? I know that my words cannot be combined and organzied into something logical that all the masses will fully comphrehend my writing style. Sorry, getting off track again.

I am writing a story that involves somepony (don't know who yet) looking for the impossible. In a world where magic exists, this shouldnt' be that hard, but somehow, it is. Why do I even bother trying to write when all I can do it form words into complete coherent sentences?

The gist of all my madness is that I am hoping to write a story about adventure. I hope that I can get the encouragement of the community to write. I am not the greatest writer and my sentence and though processes might be seen as a little strange. I hope you enjoy it.

A billion bits to you,
Matthew DePointe