You Are Assimilated

Today, is the first day of the rest of your life.

I don't remember who said that, only, and most importantly, that someone did. I'm sure it was some sort of intellectual with a monetary investment in the rights.

If you are into cliches and borrowed thoughts, I've got one for you;
Today, yesterday is officially over, and tomorrow is only a day away.

Woops, I think I just stole the last half of that from Little Orphan Annie, or her song writer. I can't be sure who. It is so easy to fall into the opacity of the plaegerism trap.

Have you ever had such an epiphany, that you were able to be faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, able to leap tall buildiings in a single bound, in order to grapple for a pen and paper to record your profound word play invention, only to find upon sharing, that someone else had beaten you to it, which left you wallowing in the aphasia of a dim bulb?

It leaves one to wonder whether, we, the people, are capable of a single original thought. Which leads me to the possibility of the collective unconcious. If you are a Trekky, think Bhorg. Some believe that we are born assimilated, pulling all ideas out of the energy field that is all living things. All that information, just floating all around and through us, free for the taking, unless of course, if someone else plucked it out first and filed a copyright or patent. That brings us back to the plaegerism laws and other tidy little clauses in the legalities of mankind. There are some hefty fines for reusing phrases and technologies that have had the mark of another legally embedded, which are not yet in the public domain.

Being the artistic type, and money poor, I fret about such things. It takes all the fun out of creating when you have to google every other sentence of your copy to make sure you're not going to get sued by some obscure individual with delusions of grandeur once you sell your presumed uniqueness for some lunch money.

Creativity is a gift meant to be shared, and I don't see anything wrong with earning a few dollars doing it. Everybody has got to eat. I've given away more of myself, as in objects d'arte, than some artistes produce in a life time, so having this oppportunity to cash in on a little piece of my brightly colored, heavily populated world of insanity, in the form of a made for television cartoon, is kind of an, it's-about-time thing. I'm ecstatic and scared. I don't fear success, I fear failing to make people laugh. Twisted, shallow, and deep, all at the same time.
2/21/2007 2:6 PM
word count 458