- Many of the conversations I have with myself are awesome and need to be inflicted on the world.
- After I've properly organized all the items on a store's shelf, I pay for my goods (when the cashier asks if I want paper or plastic, my answer is usually "you too"),then go home to pen total chaos inspired by shampoos in the conditioner rows.
- When invited out to dinner, I order pie. Preferably cherry, though apple will do in a pinch. 5-course meal? Lovely. Bring me a new slice each round. Oh, and add ice cream for the main course. In my worlds, that's no reason for a date to leave. It's how the protagonist levels up her magic.
- Thanks to anxiety attacks, I will randomly get up and walk away, out, around, through...whichever direction keeps me in motion and distracted. Yes, socially, that's considered beyond the pale of rude; though, it is a fascinating character study in diverse reactions to a single unconventional action. Once I make it home--safe within my refuge--writing the revolt and abandonment scenes are rather easy.
- Finally, control. Complete. Total. Mistress of the Universe control. I have a plan, a list, and a timeline. Life is perfectly under con--wait, what the hell is that? When did the sole of my shoe start flapping like a duckbill? The dog has ten minutes to do his outdoor business, why is he taking fifteen? The niblings are invading two days early and one has the bubonic plague? I have the next five pages word-for-word ready to roll from my mind, why is Windows taking thirty minutes to update? ~shakes fists at sky~ KHAAAAAAAAAAAN! Godsdamn life. Full of plot twists.
Embrace your weird, dear readers. It's all the motivation you'll ever need.
