Written by on August 26th, 2015 // Filed under Erika Viktor, Uncategorized

I cry at commercials. I cry in response to Muppets. When they come together–its like KABLAM!

GE has this great commercial in which they turn a monster into a peacock and it will make you feel not only lonely and brilliant, but also like taking a bath. Check it out here, then come back and read the rest of what I have to say about it or else I will get really mad at you.

The commercial is good because its weird and true. Weird things get us to look and true things get us to think.

Ideas are pretty scary, just below spiders on the scare o’ meter of life. Some scary ideas I have had in the past are as follows:

– What if I am really a brain in a jar and someone is poking me with electrical pins?

– What if we are all just space tourists and Earth is like the discount cruise ship for bored immortals?

– What if I mix all the liquids in my house over the stove?

– Wouldn’t it be super cool to have a giant wooden man as a best friend?

– What if Americans stopped saying “awesome?” would we all have to learn another adjective? Could it even be done?

– What if I write a book about how to kill toys?

– What if the deer in my yard are really Japanese spy robots?

And so forth.

Honestly, ideas are scary because they make us have to do something. And everyone hates doing something. Something is kind of a jerk. Once you know he exists he sort of moves in and starts using your toothbrush and eating the last Hot Pocket in the freezer on a Tuesday night.

Something makes you fall in love and feel things.

Family and friends hate somethings. They are all like:

“Hey, you wanna hang out?”

“I’m doing something tonight.”

“Dude you did something last night!”

“I know! I can’t stop!”

“Man, when you going to get over something and meet nothing? He’s got a great pad downtown and serves a mean Italian espresso.”

Pretty soon all your friends are following Nothing’s Facebook status and commenting on all his memes and they don’t even click on your blog links anymore.

Stupid friends. Stupid somethings.

Then you find yourself alone with your crazy idea. And you have to shape it and comb its ratty old tail.

This is the part where I say something inspirational like:

“But when it is finally born into the world, it becomes like a beautiful butterfly! And everyone suddenly believes in you again and you change the world!”

But more than likely, another something will come along, kick it out and start watching reruns of MASH on your couch.

Which makes me wonder. Do the somethings exist for us, or do we exist for the somethings?

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