State of Mind

Part of what makes a writer is an attachment to inanimate objects, mental images, and concepts of no importance. These are the outlets my imagination takes to sometimes. It likes to latch onto things and paint them with characteristics they may not inertly have. Numbers and letters have personalities for me. Silverware and certainly clothing. The different states are another such elusive entity that have personality for me and on that subject, I'm sure glad to live in The Empire State.

My feeling isn't really anything like pride or nationalism because I don't take any personal identity or meaning from living here or there. But it is one of those few states where I think people identify themselves by their state first and nation second. Certainly a New York City resident abroad would answer "I'm a New Yorker" before they said "I'm American." Perhaps it stems from a sense of self-sufficiency, real or imagined, that exists there. Perhaps it's because New York is one of those states that will still be around after the union collapses, along with California and Texas. It is, after all, The Empire State. Or perhaps is just the odd legends the old Dutch infused into the landscape that hold us hostage.

Whatever the reason, I've always felt at home within it's borders. I've always believed my imagination has room to roam and is welcome here. It's kind of crazy, but I suppose that's part of being a writer too. This past weekend, I was on the bus from Boston back to Albany and when I crossed state lines, I literally felt joy. But of course, that other state has always felt like unfamiliar ground, much like Delaware. There's just a lot of story left in the soil here and today I'm feeling ready to farm it.

Today's Post is Brought to You by the Letter b and the Number 3

This morning I was reading a fun post on Ghost Medicine (a great blog by writer Andrew Smith) about his feelings about certain punctuation marks. It reminded me of how I've always, since I was a child, assigned gender to the numbers and letters. Not only that, but they also took on personalities in my imagination. 

The alphabet and the numerals became characters and once that happened, I was never really able to shake the lives I made up for them. 

I thought I'd share a little of their stories with you guys.

Let's start with the number 1. He's a boy, obviously. One of those shy boys that cling to their parents in the super market aisles and hide their face if someone waves to them or says hello. He's also allergic to apples.

Number 3 is a girl. She's the kind of little girl with an attitude. The kind that sticks her tongue out at you, calls you stinky, then runs away giggling with snot bubbles coming out of her nose.

Number 5 is a bully. He's the older boy that sticks his foot out to trip you when you're minding your own business trying to get to class.

The numbers obviously get older as the get higher. Number 10 is that big kid that lives down the street and smokes cigarettes and tries to get you to do bad things because he thinks it's funny when you get in trouble for it, but you'd do anyway because you want Number 10 to think you're cool.

Letters are bit more civilized in my mythology. Numbers merely grunt, but letters communicate. This tends to make their personalities less bratty.

MNLOP - that crowd is Dullsville. They're the nerds who stick together at a party talking only themselves about something only they are interested it. Probably something scientific or perhaps local politics.

The letter E is a a video game freak. You can just tell he has the bugged-out eyes to fit the profile. He's always wired and speaking a million words per minute. He's a good guy, but you don't want to be around him too long. He's exhausting.

The letter S is beautiful. Shaped perfectly. She's the kind of woman that walks into a room and most men know instantly that she's out of their league. Yet, she's not. Because S is also very down to Earth and engagible. 

V...now V is out you're league.

B...well, that's easy. B is always perfect because B has always been a version of me.

And on and on it goes...Needless to say, Spelling and Math were always interesting in grade school. I simply did not like some of the characters I had to work with. It didn't always seem fair. 

As you can tell the writer's ability to read into situations works not only to discover moments of the profound, but also tortures us with the silly. We dwell on these things that most people never consider. It's our blessing and our curse...but it certainly makes life more interesting.