Thinking Outside The Block
Blank. I've been sitting at this damn laptop for at least two hours and yet nothing has come to mind. The blinking of my type cursor was driving me insane, as if it’s mocking me for not having any ideas. I lean in as if maybe staring into the blank page will give me a spark of creativity. I stare deeply into the ocean of white for…
“Forget this! I’m watching Feeling Pinkie Keen!” I yell as I minimize Word and open YouTube and scroll down my favorites to find the beloved episode of My Little Pony. Surely, the show I base my writings off of should give me some creativity? Yet nothing comes to my brain as the intro song hits my eardrums, it’s like it’s on vacation! I can’t even think of a title!
“And Twilight gets a piano dropped on her head. Classic!” I laugh out loud, but in my head; I know that not even the hilarity of a looney-tunes gag on the pony on hate could bring me satisfaction in knowing that I have the worst case of Writer’s block in the history of literature. I sigh as I pause the video at a comical close up of Pinkie having one of her foreboding twitches of her’s and switch back to the blank document. My right eye starts twitching with anticipation and eagerness to type anything down, but still nothing. Angry, I pound my fist down onto my desk and erupt from my chair and start pacing back and forth.
“I can’t think of anything! I promised a story by Saturday and I shall deliver, but I need a creative edge if I’m ever going to get started!” I rush back to my laptop and slam down my hands in frustration. “DAMN IT!” I start crushing the palm rest of my laptop under my rage-filled fists while screaming: WHY CAN’T I THINK!!!” I yell at the top of my lungs. Thank God no one is home to hear my outburst. I collapse into my chair with a flop, a bit exhausted at the short explosion.“It’s no use, I’m doomed.” I say simply as I throw my head into my arms. At least now a new shade is overtaking my vision, that’s an upside I guess. Suddenly, I start feeling a tapping on my head. Must be my hair fixing itself, I think to myself. Hey, look at that! I had a thought! Progress!
“Helloooooooooooooo!?” A very upbeat and peppy voice asks. Ok, now either I must be going crazy or I un-paused the video during that frenzy; because I swear I hear Pinkie Pie. I stay tucked into my jacket sleeves, yet the same feeling keeps rapping at my head. “C’mon! Don’t be so moody! You’ll find an idea!” The assumed Pinkie says. I know it’s my mind teasing me. I know the very nanosecond I look up, I’ll be staring at a blank white document again. Yet I feel my curiosity getting the best of me; so with much doubt, I lift my head up out of my arms and instantly my nose meets a pink muzzle. “Hi, I’m Pinkie Pie!” The pony says with a smile. I can’t believe it. I’m staring a cartoon character in the face. Oh she’s real, I know I’m not dreaming; ‘cause if I was, I WOULD HAVE DREAMT OF A STORY BY NOW!
“Uhh, hi.” I respond oddly. I don't know how to react. What else do you say to a fictional character? ‘Hi! Thanks for actually existing?’
“Seems like a weird introduction.” I think I hear under the pony’s breath.
“Huh?” I quickly reply to her. I could have sworn she said something.
“What?” She says, not wavering from her smile. I can’t believe she is as cheeky in real life than as she is on the show. I thought I heard something though. Oh well, I shake off the thought and switch topics.
“Anyway, how did you…get here?” I ask. Pinkie points a hoof at my laptop, which I now notice is engulfed with pink.
“This thingy! I saw you on the other side looking all sad and angry at not being able to write!” She starts explaining as she is wiggling the rest of her body out of my laptop screen, which is now starting to look like a painting from Mario 64. With a pop, she flops down into my lap; and trust me, she is NOT light. I start nudging her to get off my crotch, but instead she uses it as a bloody launch pad to get to the carpet. My eye starts twitching again, but at least about something different. Ow…
“Sorry if I hurt you.” Pinkie says sadly. Great, she’s here ten seconds and already she’s losing her happy-go-lucky attitude. I already have enough on my plate, I don't need a crazy schizophrenic pony on top of it!
“It’s fine,” I quickly assure her as I get up, aching a bit. “So, you’re here to help me get an idea?” I ask hopefully. Hell, if anyone can come up with something creative, it’s Pinkie Pie!
“Yup!” Knew it. I can’t imagine what it will be! No literally, MY BRAIN IS FRIED!
“Awesome! So…what is it?” I ask desperately. She tilts her head as she answers.
“I don’t have any yet!” She says with a smile still across her face. Quickly, I smash my palm into my face. Great. A pink pony climbs out of my laptop to help me write, and she has no ideas, just what I need.
“Grrrrrrrr! AHHHHHHHH!” I slam my entire body onto my bed in frustration, bouncing a bit before resting flat onto my stomach and face. Pinkie meanwhile, pokes me in the back curiously.
“Something wrong?” She asks, still poking my thigh. “Does your waist still hurt?” My groan is muffled by my bed sheets. “I bet it is.” I groan again as I lift my head up to correct her of what I am annoyed about.
“Pinkie, what does that clock say?” I ask her, tired and annoyed at this point. I wait for a response, but I hear and feel, is nothing. Then I remember, she has no idea my clock is my TV box, great. “The silver thing under the TV.” I point out; still nothing. Then I realize she has no idea what a TV.
“What’s a TV?” She asks. I get up from my slump and walk over to the front of my bed and point to the television, then to the box under it. Pinkie cocks her head sideways to the point that it is almost upside-down. She blinks a few times in this position before looking at me to reply. “That’s a weird looking clock.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Just read it.” She takes a minute to stare at the clock with her head still upside-down. In want to tell her that she could probably read it faster if her head was right side up; but before I get the chance, she’s already done reading it!
“Ten forty-three. So?”
“Now look outside.” I tell her. She flips her head back to the correct position, and faces the windows behind my laptop. She looks off into pitch darkness, with only the moon and a few street lights making the night a little brighter. I can tell that she still didn’t get it. “Pinkie, it’s ten forty-three PM on a Friday night. I need this story or chapter or whatever out by tomorrow!” Pinkie says nothing. She looks back at me, back outside, then back at me, and repeats this a few more times. I groan, she has no idea what I’m talking about. I hang my head in frustration. Suddenly, Pinkie zips to my bed and starts jumping around. I think she has something or she’s trying to cheer me up. Either way it’s pretty funny. I can’t help but smile a little.
“So you need a story and you can’t think of anything, right?” She asks while vibrating from the jumping. I look at her like she’s some sort of idiot. She understood that, that’s why she’s here! Did she need clarification to be one-hundred percent sure?
“Yes, that’s why you’re here.” I tell her. She nods her head, which looks like a bobblehead while she’s jumping.
“I know that silly! Just making my point!” She says as she flips off my bed, her pink fluff ball of a hair style just grazing the ceiling before she lands gracefully onto the floor. I am surprised she did not fall right through to the living room below! But what did she mean by point?
“What do you mean by point?” I ask her aloud.
“You didn’t have to ask twice.” She says. I blink at her, concerned.
“I only asked once.” I reply. She shrugs.
“If you say so, anyway, my point is: Don’t think!” She exclaims as she stands on a hind hoof and raises her forehooves in celebration of her answer. I however, didn’t get it.
“How am I supposed to come up with an idea if I don’t think?!” I shout. Pinkie giggles and boops me on the nose. Immediately, I lose my agitated frown and decide to hear her out. It is Pinkie Pie after all, she must have some trick up her sleeve.
“Well, some good ideas people try to think about for hours or days, but others just come to people out of nowhere!” She is right. Some ideas do just randomly pop into someone’s head, but I don’t know how that happens. If it’s random, I’m dead. If not though…
“So, how do I come up with an idea by ‘not thinking’?” I ask her. Pinkie answers by jumping onto my chair and starts kicking at the plastic on the floor. In a few moments, the chair and the pony turn into a pink cyclone, whipping around wildly on the small space. I step back so I don’t get blindsided. “How does this answer my question?!” I shout at her. I get no response except what I can only describe as a hyena in a spin cycle. A minute or so later, the chair starts slowing down to the point where I could reach out to stop it myself, but I don’t because it seems like she’s having too much fun. As the chair comes to a halt; Pinkie’s body turns toward me, giggling crazily like some sort of playful psychopath. I’m not concerned about that though, I’m concerned about the fact that her pupils are spinning inside her eyes. I’m hoping it’s just because she’s Pinkie Pie.
“That was the answer!” She yells to me, still laughing like she’s at the dentist’s. “What did I just do?”
“Jump into my chair and spin around on it like it was a tea cup ride.” I point out.
“Exactly!” She leaps out of the chair and points at me defiantly. I step back, a bit startled at her sudden outburst. Which is weird; because I’m not startled at the fact she really exists and came out of my laptop to help me write. “What was that to you?” She asks me, now pacing back and forth.
“Completely random.”
“Correct! What do you think I was thinking when I was spinning on that chair?” She asks me. I scrunch my face in confusion. How the hell am I supposed to know what she was thinking? I don’t have telepathy!
“How am I supposed to know that? It’s your mind!” Now I’m getting a little mad. This whole ordeal is wasting time, time I could be using to write! Pinkie wasn’t making any sense. “You just jumped into my chair and spun for no reason! I don’t know, were you even…Oh my God.” Boom. Instantly I get it. My jaw drops in awe at how simple the answer was, and yet I couldn’t get it because I was thinking too hard. Pinkie realizes this and smiles.
“You get it now?” I look at her like she’s some kind of pink genius. How did I not think of it before? “Because you were thinking too hard.” She says randomly. My train of thought is interrupted by her random sentence, but again I shrug it off to answer her.
“Yea, the solution is to not think about a new story. The solution is to not think at all! Be random!”
“Bingo!” She starts dancing in success at my realization. I look at her and start laughing. This fictional or non-fictional or whatever she is taught me how to truly come up with something brilliant. As she dances and gallops around the room joyful as ever; I think to myself that I was stuck in mental lock-down, I couldn’t think of a single plausible thought. Then she comes around, somehow, and shows me how to break out of this idea Alcatraz: Don’t think at all, let your mind just relax.
And that’s just what we did.
After her little celebration, I glanced at the clock. It has been thirty minutes since she arrived and I still had no story. So, Pinkie and I flopped down onto my bed and just start brainstorming. It’s amazing what ideas come up when you just randomly start saying stuff: Lyra trying to play an electric guitar, Fluttershy turning into a werewolf; we even thought of a brilliant idea of her and Discord fighting off mutant cupcakes after she accidentally mixed in one of Zecora’s potions into some batter. I’m actually hanging onto that one, it sounds pretty decent. After about an hour or so, (And a quick break to watch some more MLP. She really wanted to see how she was like on the show!) We had a whole page full of ideas! Amazing how things can turn so quickly! But before I go off and finish that last chapter of that story with Chris-Cross and his cutie mark or whatever; I just had to write this entire experience down so that maybe, one day when some writer is down on his or her luck, having the worst case of Writer’s block ever. I want them to read this and encourage them to not think hard, but to not think at all. And maybe, that writer will get the best idea ever conceived from their random thoughts and maybe tons more. Just let your mind literally explode with thoughts and ideas to the point of you getting some new form of writing disability! The opposite of Writer’s block like some sort of Writer’s overload of ideas or something, I don’t know! The point is: Creativity is random, Writer’s block sucks, and if Pinkie Pie EVER jumps out of your laptop to help you because you have no idea what to write; you should probably check to see if you’re hallucinating. That’s just messed up.