Sometimes I fight with myself but not over the stupid things in life. More so over who's in control of my mind and lately I'm figuring out that it's not me. See, I have these people that live in my mind, telling me what I should or shouldn't do. You sane people would call those voices a conscience but mine goes deeper. They inspire my ideas for stories and poetry and sometimes push me to do things I wouldn't normally do. For instance, I wouldn't normally write about my mind and my being insane yet those voices… they're rather persuasive. Almost as persuasive as my muse.
Ah, my muse; the very thing that has kept my imagination rolling since the day I could think properly. Who is this muse I speak of? She is my pixie with an attitude and she loves telling me when I can and can't write. Like right now? I've got her sitting on top of my computer monitor and she's busy painting her nails… did I mention she's as vain as a supermodel? Well, she is. Here, I'll tell you about a time my muse was being particularly stubborn.
My fingers flew nimbly over the keys as the ideas continued to scramble for consciousness. Overhead, on my computer's monitor, sat my muse. Her arm was dangling precariously over the screen as she lay on her back all the while gazing into her beloved golden mirror. A tiny sigh escaped her even tinier mouth as she sat up and looked at me with a smile on her face. Noticing that she was staring at me, I looked up from the story that I was writing.
"What?" I asked with irritation in my voice. Her smile merely widened as she noticed the annoyance in my voice.
"Nothing. I just thought that it was time for you to take a break. You work too hard sometimes, you know."
Growling, I attempted to continue to write but… it was to no avail. Knowing that I was defeated for this moment, I folded my arms and defiantly looked right into her small green eyes.
"Ok, what's wrong with you now?" Her shoulders rose as she took in a deep breath.
"I just wanted you to know that I don't want you to write anymore right now."
"You don't want me to what?"
"To write, silly!"
This time my shoulders rose to compensate for the deep breath that my lungs took in. I know I didn't just hear what I thought I heard. My muse didn't want me to write because she felt that I worked too hard. If this were any one else, I'd be flattered but I didn't want to hear lectures from the one thing in my mind that kept the ideas in my head flowing into my fingers and onto the keys. I closed my eyes briefly and smacked my lips thoughtfully in an attempt to control my temper.
"Look, you just have to sit up on that monitor and look pretty. I do the writing; you do the sitting. How is that hard?"
She laughed and flicked a dainty wrist at me with a look on her face that was sheer amusement.
"Oh silly girl! I'm tired! I want to sleep! We'll write more in the morning."
"Look, I want to write now so either you stay up there willingly or I chain you up there."
The pixie just giggled and all of a sudden, she was gone! Grumbling out loud, I began my next attempt at a poem. However, it didn't last that long considering I was muse-less. I waited and I waited for her to come back, giggling and staring into her mirror but the more time that I waited, the more time that she was gone. My mind began to wander as the time slipped by and when I came back to the real world, hoping that she was there on my monitor, she wasn't. Ok, now I was worried. Where could she be? Now frantic, I searched my computer for her, checking the art sites where she could have been lurking… I even checked at the DBSZ Message Board. But it was to no avail. She was nowhere to be found.
Finally, I gave in to her plan. I stopped writing. I simply stopped and waited for her to return and after nearly fifteen minutes of staring at a blank computer screen, my pixie muse returned with a grin on her face and her mirror in hand. Her wings flickered slightly as she daintily lowered herself to lie on my monitor and stare sweetly at me.
"There now," she said sweetly. "Doesn't it feel good to take a break?"
I sighed and faked a smile, "Yes it does, actually. But I really wanted to write. Couldn't we just write for another hour or so?"
The Faye shook her head and got back to her feet, flitting delicately back and forth across the top of the monitor, all the while keeping the smile on her face. A breath escaped my throat and all of a sudden, I lunged at her, grabbing her around her tiny waist. Frantically I searched for something to bind her with. A thin cord poked its metallic head out of my desk's cubbyhole and an evil grin played across my lips. My muse struggled to get out of my grasp but I was unwilling to let her go and as long as she was in my grip, she couldn't disappear… I wouldn't let her. Her wings fluttered uselessly against my skin as her fists pounded on mine.
"Let me go!" she screamed at me, fury growing in her eyes. Finally, the cord was wrapped around her tiny body, and I set her down next to my keyboard.
"Now," I said. "I'm going to write and can't stop me. Just sit there and look pretty."
And you know what? I finished that poem.
|16 Aug 2001|| Saran|
Ooooh ... wicked. Wish I could do that to MY muse ... but unfortunately, Jaron is rather stonger'n myselfy, and he has certain adventages ... wings ... Ah well. But that is a really evil thing to do to a poor defenceless pixie muse, y'know!! *grin*I know. I'm evil... and I love it! My muse deserved that, however... she's far too picky about when and where she wants to write. I had to set her straight somehow. ~_^
|28 Aug 2001|| Erin M. Schmidt|
My muse is large, hairy and hostile. I'm afraid to take her on.
I think you've written a story here that all artists and writers can relate to. This gives me hope . . . man CAN triumph over muse!
|11 Feb 2002|| Dewald Malan|
Nice Story... I get my inspiration from a Gnome called Joseph.
A very interessting creature