I spuddle.

This post is not really entirely about Dan Brown.   Sorry.   It was a trick!  To make you look!   I know nothing about Dan Brown and/or Freemasons, except that I do know that his book sold one million copies on its first day because this was retweeted one million times on my Twitter stream yesterday and I get all my news from Twitter.   As a result, I strongly feel that nothing happened yesterday except for the sales of Dan Brown’s book.   In other news, I have not read The DaVinci Code and probably never will.    I have no animosity towards Dan Brown except for the great heaping pile of stinking envy that I feel about his riches.    But I feel that way towards all rich people, such as The Queen or JK Rowling.   So it’s not Brown-specific.   Just a generalization.

I will admit to being curious about Freemasons though.   I’ve always wondered exactly what it is that they DO.   Is it just like a man club?   Do they pass the emotional stick and cry in the woods?   Are there female Freemasons?   Do they do stonework?  For free?   Are there zany hats involved?   I mean, I’m not plagued by these questions, but they have popped into my mind in the last ten seconds.   I feel pretty confident that we will all know more than anyone ever needed to know about this “secret society” in the next couple of years as I’m willing to bet we’ll be inundated with literature in every genre featuring Freemasons.   And vampires.   Both.   In fact, don’t steal my idea!   Idea stealer!   I’m going to write it!   A book about Freemason-vampires!    I’m serious, back away from the blog.   Get your own ideas.

I’m much like Dan Brown, in that I write books, but different than him because I loathe to do intensive historical research and prefer to write books from the perspective of twelve year old girls, ten year old boys, and twenty-six year old women.    Those are the three I am working on simultaneously right now.    It can get confusing if I get the narrative voices mixed up, which is why I’d prefer it if I got more sleep at night and got less confused at arbitrary moments.    Yesterday, I spent twenty minutes searching my brain for the word for “clock”.    I landed on “watch” and stuck there.    This might not be alarming to you because you do not have hypochondriacal panic disorder or HPD*, a disorder in which you can be wandering along happily in your life, ruminating about the changing of the leaves and suddenly be unable to come up with the word for “clock” and spend the next seventeen minutes hushing your children so you can devote all your brain’s energy to contemplating your future with early Alzheimers disease and how eventually you won’t even recognize them and your books will probably never get finished because if you finish them while you are demented, they’ll likely be pretty hard to sell what with their meandering, pointless plots and incorrect usage of the word “clock”.   By the time you get home, you’re in such a panic that you’ve hyperventilated and become light-headed and have to dive into your computer and search all of your symptoms and realize that you don’t have Alzheimers but you have every single symptom of menopause, except for the actual pausing in your menses part, even though you’re only thirty-nine and what if you are destined to become victimized by your lack of hormones for the next twenty years, alternating between hot flashes and memory loss and dizziness and nausea?

If that sounds like YOU, then you have a terribly complex psychological problem.   Seek help.

If you sold one million copies of your novel about Freemasons yesterday then you are Dan Brown and even if you also have the aforementioned problem with the crazy,  you can pay someone else to endure it for you, while you swan around the Caribbean on a yacht made entirely of gold, buying islands and pineapples and wiping up the sticky juices with dollar bills.   Enjoy!

*I made up that term, so you probably don’t have it.

Filed under: Me, Myself and I