Excuse My Muse

As I was looking for an idea about which to write, I kept coming up with the same old ideas.  Maybe I’ve managed to say everything that I have to say.  Maybe by blogging I’ve used up all the stories that I used to repeat because I’d have a different audience who may not have heard the one about the (fill in topic here).

The problem with blogging is that you don’t know who is reading, and once something is written in a blog it is there potentially forever.  Even television gets to show reruns in the summer and then sell shows to be syndicated.  Bloggers can post something once and not revisit the subject until they have something new and interesting to say.  Having said that I’m sure if someone cared to research my site they’d probably find several topics that I’ve already reused without even being aware of it.

The ancients believed that muses were actual creatures who inspired people to think, write, sculpt, paint or whatever.  We on the other hand are technologically smarter and know that inspiration is just some neurologically induced electrical signals based on experiences we’ve had in the past.  How pathetic is that?

Maybe what we need these days is a little less reality and a little more mythology.  Maybe we’d be more productive and more satisfied if we ignored the electrical impulse theory and instead looked for some supernatural (or at least extranatural) explanation for inspiration.  After all if the muses did not inspire a story teller in ancient times, the absence of the muse was a story in itself.

So here goes.

Once upon a time there were two neurons who shared a synapse.  The one cell’s axon was intertwined, but not quite touching the dendrite of the second cell.  The second cell longed to feel the electrical stimulus from the first cell’s axon, but sadly today it was not meant to be.  There would be no serving of acetylcholine to share between them as the electrical signal connected them together.

The first neuron looked sad and said, “I’m sorry, but I’ve got this terrible headache.”  The second neuron tried to look supportive, but when the first wasn’t looking, the second sent a message to the person whose nervous system they were controlling.

A frustrated writer pushed the keyboard away, carelessly tossed the mouse on the desk top and uttered his frustration.

Hey, don’t blame me – if I had a decent Muse, this would have been interesting.

One response to “Excuse My Muse

  1. This one made me laugh. Have to say that wasn’t the way (exactly) neurological activity was explained to me in Anatomy and Physiology class. I think I actually prefer your rendering!

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