Alec is a Girl's Name

I just ate an entire packet of hot chocolate without the hot or the water part.

I poured it into my mouth like a pixie stick.

It wasn't very good. And it didn't really melt properly, like pixie sticks do. You kind of have to chew it. I wasn't expecting that.

That was a couple of hours ago.

Now I'm testing other methods of forcing creativity. I'm lying on the ground with my feet above my head. Maybe the blood will rush to my brain. That's supposed to help with ideas, right?

Or if that doesn't work I'll just do interpretative dance moves to Mumford and Sons Pandora station. Surely interpretative dancing will spark something.

In addition to the aforementioned procedures, I've also been checking Facebook every 42 seconds, as if, at any given moment, something inspirational is going to pop up on my wall. I know what it sounds like, but idea isn't completely unsubstantiated.

One time I read a quote on Facebook that said, "Whenever you feel sad just remember that there are billions of cells in your body and all they care about is you. Okay?"

Now, sometimes, when I feel sad, I picture little cells floating around with smiley faces like the ones on goldfish crackers. I don't think I have to say this makes me happy. It's assumed, right?

Anyway, since my feet are falling asleep, and I still have no ideas, I decided to turn to Google for advice. It told me I should be open to bad ideas.

Thanks Google. I think I got that covered. Please refer to the pixie stick hot chocolate experience.

Don't worry Google. I have lots more bad ideas where that one came from.

Next up, urban camping in Walmart parking lots.

Selling hand-crafted tinfoil accessories on Etsy.

Crocheting seat covers for my car.

Starting a hedgehog obedience course.

Painting miniature masterpieces on toilet paper rolls then hanging them from my ceiling like a baby mobile.

Jump roping after 10pm on the highest floor of an apartment complex.

I'll let you know how it goes.