I trekked up the stairs knowing I would sit in my eerily soothing computer chair, place my fingers on the keyboard, and write about a specifc something. The Problem: I've forgotten what I was going to say.

So, what should I do? Retracing my steps, I was taping pictures--- pictures of friends, of family, of my life--- on the family room wall to rid my self of continually walking by a characterless white slab of wall. My living room had no life. After decorating as much as I could until the last strip of scotch tape plucked off the dispenser, the living room is no longer dead. Muted boxing unfolded on the tube while Effin Tunes 3 permeated from my speakers. Ok, so I still have no clue what theme clicked in my head. I was sticking photos to the wall for a while, so I must have thought of this vanished idea in the middle of that fun.

I could actually venture downstairs again and scope the room. Professor Misilmeri from freshmen year taught me that memory is more accessible if you attempt to retrieve it in the same environment where it was learned. Hold on...

(Anthony bolts downstairs faster than The Flash.)

(The tumbleweed continues to mozy around Anthony's head.)

(A frustrated Anthony rushes up toward his room.)

(Crash! Boom! Pow!)

My subject would not reveal himself even after I returned to the scene. I shouldn't have run upstairs to get back to the computer so quickly because my momentum led me to use excessive force when pulling the light cord of my fan. The glass screen jiggled from its fastened position, bopped my head, rolled toward the corner, and shattered across my carpet. Now I have a bump on my head, a floor full of glass, and a tilted, dangling light bulb from the fan.

I bet whatever I wanted to write about was stupid anyway. It's ok, brilliant idea... I don't need you! Just go ahead and keep hiding wherever you want!

Are you there?