I had an awesome thought a few nights back, late, late, late at night. (This was that awful night when I couldn’t fall asleep for so long.) I scribbled it down and then forgot about it after I woke up. I just found it again.
In Harry Potter, the wise old headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, has a carved stone basin called a Pensieve in which he can store his thoughts for reviewing after the fact. When he’s trying to recall an important moment, or needs to sort things out in times of chaos or confusion, he turns to his Pensieve. “I’m sure you know the feeling,” he tells Harry, of having his mind so full to bursting that being able to examine thoughts independently comes as a relief. Harry, being a child, doesn’t know the feeling, but I do, and have been envious of Dumbledore’s Pensieve ever since. Sometimes there’s just been so much to take in and it’s sparked so many different reactions in my brain, I don’t know how to process it. Sometimes thoughts fly by and I know they’re good ones, but I don’t have time or mental space to isolate them, and then they’re gone. I could do with a Pensieve.
But the other night, while I was out of bed for the very purpose of recording some of these jumbled mental exertions for future reference, I had the wonderful thought that I do have a Pensieve, and it is my writing. As writing becomes more and more comfortable for me, I find myself turning to it at exactly the kinds of moments when Dumbledore turns to his Pensieve: when I need to sort things out, when I need to isolate ideas so I can work on them some more, when I’m having trouble with something and can’t figure out where I’m going wrong. These days I always turn to writing in moments like these, and it hasn’t failed me yet. Even if I don’t get everything untangled, there’s always something that comes out of my scribblings, and it’s not always what I thought I’d get. As I’m making a Harry Potter reference, there’s no way for this not to sound cheesy, but — it is magical, as close to magic as a Muggle like me is ever going to get.
It’s been such a nice couple of days. I’ve been drawing, reading, writing, and coding (well, what a nongeek like me considers coding [HTML]) almost all day long, with breaks for eating and hanging out with friends. May I have this life all the time? Is that allowed?
[This post was imported on 4/10/14 from my old blog at satsumabug.livejournal.com.]