Doris Also Said
Saturday’s Theme Music
Today’s choice is for my little buddy, the mighty Quinn. Here’s Manfred Mann performing their hit-record version of the Bob Dylan song, “Quinn the Eskimo” (1968).
ERROR!
My writing is done through typing, so this might might sound odd. Sometimes, when the words are speeding through me and I’m in the scene, I close my eyes as I type, because I don’t need to see the words. Weirdly, the words are a distraction, and get in my way. With my eyes closed, I jump into a fast rhythm.
A problem only develops when I open my eyes and discover I have one or both hands incorrectly positioned on the keyboard. It’s first funny, but then aggravating, because I was streaming, and I don’t really know what I was typing.
Yeah, just happened a short time ago, when I decided to rewrite several pages. Hoo, boy. Gulp some coffee and begin again. That’s all I can do.
Floofcapade
Floofcapade (floofinition) – a show put on by or for housepets.
In use: “When the puppies met the cats, it became quite a floofcapade. The fearless puppies hustled up to the tom and queen. Bewildered, the two cats raised paws to swat but didn’t hit anyone, instead leaning forward to sniff the puppies. To the puppies, that meant lick, sniff, and jump on. Watching with alarm, Susan awaited the cat’s response, but to her surprise, they let the puppies chase them around.
“Animals would never stop surprising her, she thought.”
Floofvitational
Floofvitational (floofinition) – an exclusive event centered around housepets.
In use: “Dinner was a floofvitational as the cats, dogs, and bird jostled for their part of the evening repast. Having another human in, even if she was a date and potential mate, put a damper on this day’s floofvitational as the animal retreated from the stranger, except for Penny. Penny was always ready to eat and didn’t care who else was there, as long as he got his share.”
So You Want To Be A Writer
Bob tells it all. Writing novels may not be the dream planned, but I still have fun with it. To writing forever.
So you ‘re thinking that writing would be a great gig; you would be your own boss, forget
“The Man,” and make a bunch of money. All you’d have to do is make up stories, which would be sorta like lying, the talent you used to have with your Mom when she figured you were scoring weed from the guy down the street, or getting baked on beer in your rich friend’s basement suite.
But you’ve grown up now, and this is what you’ve discovered about writing for a living.
- Sure, you can make money, and you don’t need a college degree. You just have to be talented. But after talking to some teachers and professional writers they pointed you to, you discovered that, yes you can make money, but there are long hours in doing so. And the intake is uneven; great while out hustling your book, pitiful…
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Friday’s Theme Music
Good morning. Welcome to the latest edition of Overthinking Song Lyrics.
Today’s show is about the Alicia Keys’ song, “Girl On Fire” (2012).
Alicia Keys is a remarkable talent, and we enjoy her many songs and skills here at the Overthinking Institute. To be fair, she’s one of three co-writers on the song, the others being Jeff Bhasker and Salaam Remi. We’d be remiss to not mention that Billy Squier has a writing credit on the song, as it’s based in some aspects on a previous song that he wrote.
The following verses trouble us at the Overthinking Institute:
She got both feet on the ground
And she’s burning it down
Ohhhh oh oh oh oh
She got her head in the clouds
And she’s not backing down
This girl is on fire
Read more: Alicia Keys – Girl On Fire Lyrics | MetroLyrics
To us, if she has both feet on the ground, what is she burning down? One would presume she’s burning down the ground that she stands upon. Indeed, if that’s the case, it’s no wonder she’s on fire. One must also ask, can you burn the ground down?
But to continue, having her head in the clouds brings to thought a person who’s not engaged with reality. It’s then disturbing that she’s not backing down, burning it down, and she’s on fire. I worry for her state of mind.
“Girl On Fire” achieved notable success and critical claim, and is a quite memorable ballad. Nevertheless, these seem like some troubling lyrics. Our colleagues over at the Just Get Over It Institute tell us to just get over it.
You tell us: are we making too much of this here at Overthinking?
Good day.
The C-130 Dream
It began with innocent travel planning with my wife and her family. One or her sisters and her daughter were there, but honestly, these folks changed throughout the dream.
First, we’d talked about where to go, details which I don’t remember. Then, we were trying to pile into a sky-blue station wagon. As there were so many people, this required some strategizing about how to pack the luggage and where everyone could sit. I was in charge.
Then, in an eye-blink, we were off, and then arrived at our next destination. This happened to be my military unit in Germany. We were there to arrange fight via a C-130 to cross the ocean.
First, though, we needed to coordinate with someone for support. Now, getting a little weird, I found a listing for a Major Ward. Major Ward was a U.S. Navy F-4 pilot, according to the listing in small, black, bold print. The problem there is that the Navy doesn’t own a major officer rank. That didn’t occur to me in the dream, and I contacted him via telephone for help.
After explaining that I needed clearance and refueling assistance, he curtly told me, “No. It’s a holiday.”
I said, “Okay, but I’m going to tell the higher powers that be that you declined to help because it’s a holiday.”
After a pause, Major Ward said, “Fine. I’m not happy, but I’ll do it.”
I then entered a series of delays trying to herd everyone together, get the crew going, filing flight plans, and getting launched. Discussions were undertaken about which of the three C-130s to take, 1819, 1822, or 1828. These are the real aircraft’s abbreviated tail numbers. With my patience strained, I was suddenly airborne in the C-130.
Looking out the windshield from the cockpit, I was flying over ocean. The sky ahead was darkening blue with dark clouds limned by the setting sun. Off to the right was a Navy aircraft carrier and another ship.
The flight was bumpy, and we were low. Wondering about the crew and pilots, I remembered different pilots from my assignment and knew none of them were flying the aircraft. Feeling surprised, I thought, am I the pilot?
I think I was. As I’m not a pilot, I worried about what was going to happen. As the aircraft was dipping and bouncing around, I also worried about being too close to the aircraft carrier and other ship, and basically commanded, “Pull up. Climb.” The aircraft did, but sluggishly. We passed those ships and flew on.
We arrived at a beautiful tropical destination on a bright and sunny day. From the water, it looked like the Caribbean. Excited, I followed the landing instructions. We ended up landing in the water about a hundred yards from the beach. Speaking with someone on the radio, I learned that this was because Major Ward had ordered it. He was behind these flawed landing instructions. I suspected he was being spiteful.
Going ashore and into the terminal, I met Major Ward, a square-jawed tall and broad white man with thick black hair. He said with a flippant air, that the landing site was an error, probably because it was a holiday. His pettiness amused me.
Returning to the aircraft, which was floating on the sea, bobbing with the waves, I decided I could take off by turning it into the wind and surfing across the water until I achieved the required air-speed. I executed my plan. The aircraft climbed and banked into the sky, carrying me on toward my destination.
The dream ended.
