FINALLY.

It’s been a long time since I wrote anything creative, and by golly did I miss it.

You know those itches you get when you’re occupied by something that prevents you from scratching? The ones that strike when you can’t – CAN’T – move, or when your hands are full? The itch on the side of your nose just as you wash your hands to start your shift at the restaurant, or the itch in that one spot on your back when you’re having an MRI done? That itch under your arm, right next to the armpit when you’re carrying laundry upstairs?\

I’ve had those itches in the back of my mind for a while now, little flashes of inspiration that seemed to extinguish the instant I’d sit down at a computer to give them substance and form. If I was unable to give the flashes any real substance, unable to take notes of my thoughts, then they were much more than little flashes.

They were IMAX-ACTION-MICHAEL BAY-DIRECTED-DRAMA-EXPLOSIONs with M. Knight Shyamalanian twists, witty banter, romance, comic relief, real Princess Bride stuff.

Once I was able to give these thoughts, these flashes, these twisted plotlines true life, my brain turned out this:

“… Yeah… I’m pretty sure there was this dude… and he did something…and oh man, was it awesome, but I…nope, sorry bro, it’s gone. You’re on your own.”

Thanks brain. Way to go the distance for me. Good hustle.

But my brain finally came through and remembered something for me! Sort of.

The other night I had an inspiration. Stinky Pete was getting me down a bit, so I was dwelling on him a little more than I probably ought to. I’d been slowly seeing more and more people I know who had heard about Pete and were doing the whole “How are you doing?” check-in on my condition which, while appreciated, does tend to bring up troublesome thoughts.

In case you haven’t seen me yet this summer, school went fine, I’m still just monitoring the tumor, and I’m busy splitting my time between an internship and regular work.

Anyway, for some reason I’ve had the story of the Sword of Damocles floating around in my head, and the other night something clicked. I had a story pop into my head. Mind you, this was about two in the morning.

There was no way I was writing anything decent at two in the morning.

So, knowing full well how easily I forget things, I resolved to cement the story into my head. I went to sleep thinking of my story.

My first thought upon waking yesterday morning?

“Damn it.”

All I had remembered was that it was somehow related to Stinky Pete.

So, feeling super bummed about my lost story, I went about my day. It’s grad party season, so my family and I all went to a party, where I did my socializing thing with an old friend.

For some reason, I made a “sword of Damocles” reference, which I’m somewhat ashamed to say misused the meaning of the story, but whatever. It worked well in the end, because something clicked.

My story was back, and I was super excited.

For the rest of the day yesterday, I revisited the general idea of my story in my head, keeping it fresh while it simmered. When I finally got access to a computer, I dove into my story, having resolved to write a screenplay because why not?

And so I did. And I’m super proud of myself.

Now I just have to figure out what to write next.