It has come to my attention over the past couple of months that I have a less the orthodox way of interpreting just about... everything. My irregular technique of approaching various ideas has entertained several of my friends... and also worried others. One of my 'funnier' interpretations is that of the phrase "Do you mind if I pick your brains?" This question immediately sends the image into my head of a finger reaching up someones nose and scratching the underside of a pink fleshy organ known as the brain, thus causing little flecks of intelligence to be lightly scraped off, falling into the nose, where they would be coated with a protective layer of boogers... These intelligent booger wads could then be propelled out of the nose in a sneeze of smartness. Because brilliance would now be sneezed out, intelligence would become an infectious disease. If a being with a considerable amount of wits were to discover a poor straggling, simple-minded man or woman, a stealthy sneeze could easily remedy the situation. When I proclaimed these thoughts to a friend of mine, I was granted a look of confusion, followed by giggle, which eventually gave way to torrents of laughter. The actually phrase, Pick Your Brain, actually came into existence in 1993, as a TV show featuring children contestants, which ran for one year. Interesting the things you learn.
I recently discovered a new way of interpreting the song It's Raining Men. I had never really liked the song much to begin with, which may have had an impact on my new grasp on the song. I was standing in my driveway one morning looking up at a massive thunderhead on the horizon, and I began thinking about how high that cloud really was. Then it hit me. If a man were to fall from a cloud, as rain does, the sheer drop, and impact of his landing, would not be survivable. If it were to actually rain men, us women would be faced with the cleanup of all the dead male bodies lying in our yards, on our roofs, stuck in our trees, and cut in half by our power lines. What a bloody, gory mess. Smashed body parts everywhere, blood staining everything, intestines sizzling on the power line that divided that poor corpse over there... I mean really... EW! Not only is this song about the mass genocide of the mall sex, but it's a celebration of it! Hallelujah, Amen! ... lady you have issues! But my friend thought that I was the one with issues. And she may be right. In the end we came up with the deduction that I have... slightly violent tendencies.
With these odd interpretations in mind I have stated to wonder, why do I see things through such strange glasses? Why is my perception of the world so different? Most would blame there parental upbringing as the cause of such oddities, and while my mother encouraged me to be creative, she never told me to be weird and kind of scary. And to this day she wonders where I get such strange ideas. One day she told me that I am "Weird. Just weird. Straaaaaaaange child." This was of course said with much love and a lot of humor. I could tell you that my bizarre thought processes are necessary for my artistic view point, but i know artists aren't any where close to being as quirky as i am. I joke with people that my brain was put in sideways. No, not backwards. Sideways. Meaning that at the end of the day, God made me this way, and most likely, I always be a tad bit eccentric, which suits just fine.
So to end this crazy post, I challenge you (gasp!) to go look at things differently then you usually do, search for the unexpected, and create some new ideas. Have fun.
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