Having ideas

My mind is a factory, throwing out thoughts and concepts like a waterfall thundering over a cliff and only a very few get caught, prisms of mist on the branches of observation. Even those are winnowed to the bone, some stored for future contemplation, some discarded, some enacted on the instant backed up with half-baked sketches a scribbled note or two to channel memory so I don't lose sight of the bigger picture I am constantly adjusting, redesigning in my head and in real life.

The graphic artist at our newspaper had a visual concept of his own to go with my words and when mine was sent to his desk was going to discard the fruits of his own consciousness. I need to speak to him about at least presenting his ideas to me. Fortunately that did not happen so now I have two ads, not one, for Faith FM and with two more taking shape that gives me enough to run a varied campaign over the next few weeks.

My newbie announcer will be happy because going to print means I have locked her in the ten a.m. to two p.m. time slot instead of shifting her back to opening the station. More sleep for her and I have to find a way to cover the station in the morning as I want a live presence there.

I have misplaced one of my notebooks. The disadvantage of a prolific and tangential mind is that it moves. Each move discards the information it contained just moments before, so I write things down in case I want them later. Somewhere in a little yellow note pad is a glowing phrase I have forgotten detail of, I just retain the feeling and the memory of the upwell of tears it brought to someone's eyes when I tossed it out. I want it back. I have tried to limit myself to one notepad but it doesn't work and now the one I want is missing.

Of course there is the interesting truth that frequently my notes are as puzzling to me as the traceries of waves on sand but still, they serve as jumping off points and open up the doors to memories that have built concepts for me, pearls around the biting grit of pain, of anger, laughter in the past. Nothing wasted, everything a path to esoteric beauty in someone's eyes.