My Brain on Coffee

OK, so it's only on half-caf, but still: The EGE goes to Starbucks to get coffee for our Sunday morning and brings back the New York Times. I'm taking a break (from working on the book, which means I'm putting in a load of stuff to dye/re-dye (trying for a more vivid orange for some of his khakis), and still reading these, and I sort the newspaper--I sort it according to the stuff I'll read first (the stuff that takes less time and has less inspiration), and I happen to open the magazine and see this:

And my brain just goes nuts. Because while I wouldn't want any of this stuff if they gave it to me (unless they gave it to me in raw parts: I suspect the pricetag would prohibit any joy I might have in getting to disassemble it myself), the ideas it sparks--for how I could do this better/cooler/more colorfully, and with STUFF I ALREADY OWN, is just overwhelming. I can't explain it: I don't like this stuff, and it's not the layout or the colors or the model or any of that. It's something that the act of seeing this stuff sparks in my brain, connections forming, neurons firing. Maybe nothing will come of it, maybe something fabulous will come of it. That's not really important. It's that moment of inspiration, of seeing something that sets off this surge of creative energy.

How does this work for you? For me, I jump up and kind of pace around the room. I talk reallyreallyreally fast, my scalp tingles. The ideas zip around like crazy. The EGE is used to this and just watches and listens as I riff. I grab some stuff I have and show him how I could use it and blather about what else I've got that could work. I tell him, of this thing when inspiration hits, "It's not better than sex, no; but it's in second place."

It's a measure of his fabulousness that he thinks this is perfectly normal.