Imagine this script for a commercial?
Imagine this script for a commercial?
So, who do we got here? Filburt quipped – Stan’s over there. Shady from S and L pronounced, I seen Cherry standing to the right with her sister. So, who else is missing? Um, I think Seventeen and Each Other were caught making out in their cache car. Cache car? Yeah. Like you know. Invisible transportation to Life Space. And who’s leaving Life Space right now? A Tree. And I saw A Day go to. Okay, well…we are close to arranging the final tribune.
We were that close.
“He came in and interrupted me!”
“Ya so. Why didn’t you just tell him to leave?”
Daisy was walking down the sidewalk. Again. It was raining. The weather never changed here. It was consistently blue-gray and purple. Wet and bleak. The sunshine rays were hidden by Indigo; the pupils of Elevententeen did not deserve Paradise Colours.
We were that.
“Filburt, can you please pass me my tea?”
“Ya sure. Here you go, do you have enough cream?”
Daisy’s milk was a nice colour of baby lime chartreuse. She didn’t even want to stir it, because then it would change into something orange and forceful. She was deciding on a Dream for the day, to carry with her in the front pocket of her Levi’s. She had another note in there from Baby Bear, who was said to be related to Seventeen and Other of Each Other. The wall at the Nike outlet now included various options for Dreams in colours ranging from green to teal to yellow. Unfortunately, that was the only colour palette available, because the others were worth too much due to their high wavelength interval. “Man, I miss orange! This blue just won’t do!”, Daisy exclaimed as she clearly had too much of a muddled mind frame to understand the meaning of that statement today.
Okay, okay, so back to The Tree. His name was Paul and instead of having a bright orange-red beard, his was blue inserted with tiny, little firs which themselves housed tiny, little owls. He was out hunting between the three primary states and had business to do across all of them. Life Space was his first stop. He was looking for Alice and her dreadful creations from God. Then, it was onto Chon where he could take a break. Eat a cherry scone and perhaps accompany it with a hot drink of lemonade. And final resting place – Elevententeen. He was supposed to bring back some girl named Daisy. Apparently, she held a key to something. His bosses were still trying to figure it out.
“In about 5 minutes, I am going to explode!”
“Let it happen, man. Things don’t get better than that.”
I’ve got to walk faster now. Where the fuck did I go? Daisy picked up her pace, the sound of her soles squeaking becoming more intense. Finally, she arrived. She looked up and read the sign – Judge Judy. It was an imposing wooden structure that looked distorted when you peered up towards the roof. She was analyzing it a little bit, because it wasn’t from here. She could tell, its proportions were all wrong and the perspective of its facade was vibrating like a green on red channel. She actually wasn’t sure now if she should enter. But before she could decide further, the gigantic brass door opened and a dark, teal gray smoke began to generate from the bottom slants.
“Pssst. Come in this way. I’ll leave the door open for you.”
Daisy knew who that was. It was darn Alice! How did she get in here? She knew better that Paul and Jared were looking for her. Her heart rate grew and it was becoming one of those distant Dreamsicles. She didn’t want any more of it. She was beginning to lose her originality and she wouldn’t be able to pick up a new set from Linz anytime soon. Daisy was heartbroken.
“If I can just get my mind past the pretense of it all, I might be able to recall something worthwhile.”
“You won’t do it. You don’t have the balls.”
The judge tore a sheet of paper out of her book and it made a long and terribly loud hissing sound – pppssssssssssssssssssssssssss! Was that really necessary, asked Alice. Judy replied with a hiss of her own, yes, yes it was. Daisy has come. Now what are we supposed to say? She will notice the difference. She can tell that we’re lying.
Daisy turned a sharp corner and again, cranked her neck upwards to preview the alarmingly high walls. Somewhere up top, there was a ceiling. It was all written in code. She wanted to read it so bad, but she slipped on the onyx glass floor, fumbling her belongings, of which a bright, green granny smith apple came flying out of her purse. Filburt ran ahead to catch it. Ugh, why are we even here, Daisy thought. Filburt answered her in his mind – Daisy, we are here because you are supposed to be here. We are trying to find the reason for Being. And, we need to present our findings to the tribune by December!
Alice sat affirmatively on a cushy yellow Dream. She took a bite and sighed. Judy followed by adjusting her large bottom on an orange one. They both sat in silence, chewing their gum.
On the left side wall, as soon as she turned the corner, Daisy saw two prints framed in gilded gold. One said Life, the other said Free. She wondered if she was supposed to be doing something with them. She tried lifting the frames off the wall, but they were drilled to it with solid steel jelly beans. Those things don’t move. She then placed her hand on their screens. The words flashed in different colours, but nothing else happened. Out of nowhere, two flashy young men appeared. She knew instantly who they were. It was The Need and The Pause. Chasing after her, of course.
The Writing she was doing was combining with Training. This was not supposed to happen. She was going to be in a lot of trouble. She just knew it. As an artist, she works. As a specialist, she writes. Ugh, this was not going to help her at the tribune. Just then, a booming voice entered the space, “Alice! Come forth to room 1!”
Daisy, she meant.
And that was that. She took off as fast as she could, carefully watching her step on the slippery glass stage. Blinking, Daisy looked around. “Class! It’s glass! Please pay attention!” Her forehead wrinkled. Again, she thought. When was it going to end? When was it the final end? “But today, my dear. Were you sleeping again?” Her teacher prompted as she handed her an exam. “Write this first. Then, we will determine what’s next.” Daisy shrugged. She had no choice anyway. So, she might as well participate. She squinted. At the corner of her eye, she saw them. She whipped her head around to see. But nothing. Just two barren doors. Totally uninteresting. Not brass even. She could have swore Tom Need and Tim Pause were there. Was she still asleep?
I’m so tired, Daisy thought. You’re always tired, retorted Cherry. She was just sitting there, twiddling her thumbs, looking at her green shoes. She turned her head right, was there something there? She suddenly felt uncomfortable. Someone was watching them. They didn’t know who.
It’s time to pack, dear. The routine was the same every June. Alice from Wonderland would arrive to take Daisy home. Daisy couldn’t do it without help. It was a sad time for her. She was remembering the death of her mom, those last few cigarettes she had outside with her dad, in the snow. She was really angry Being because of Ben. He ruined her life, led her astray. She was an addict when she was with him.
Forget thinking about it, darling. Alice stroked Cherry’s hair, handing her a cheese and ham biscuit. This is ridiculous. I’m practically choking on this bread, it’s getting lodged in my throat! I can’t take it anymore! By then, their tears were flowing, ruining everything including a pink dress and a gigantic muumuu.
All of the pupils present today were busy writing down their answers. Not me. I’m just going to sit it. Read his brain. Oh shit, he’s looking. The girls looked away, frantically grabbing their miniature Navajo backpacks, matching, gifts from the Philippines and their Auntie Stella.
Daisy? Can you contribute something to this discussion we’re having? Her teacher was frustrated, but tried his best to be kind and patient. Daisy twitched her mouth. No, I don’t think I can. They could feel every single eye in the room blink. Then, 999,999 heads turned to look at her. What were they expecting? She wasn’t going to put on a show. And especially not in this muumuu. Do you have anything to say, young miss? Neither had enough bitcoins to argue. Clearing her throat, Miss Daisy stood up. Cherry budged in front, knocking her sister to the floor. I bought these with my own cash! Dreams, actually. It was Toys clearly. Can any one of you in the room debate that? We highly think naught. And with haste, they flipped their skirts and left the room.
Flying through the wind, Cherry grabbed her big sister’s hand. They were going to be just fine.
We do what we do! But without our mind getting in the way?
I sometimes find myself questioning my work. I ask myself – is it too ‘complicated’ for the ‘average’? Does it come off as ‘fluffy’ or ‘dense’? These words mean too many things, but we get used to one meaning, and that is not right.
And when our minds enter ‘the complex’, we should stop and perform self-talk. People avoid self-talk for fear that it gives others the impression that we’re ‘crazy’. I mean, my mouth moves when I’m thinking too hard! So what! Okay, it might just look ‘odd’. But nowadays, self-talk should be used as a positive, gentle form of therapy to get us back on track to believing in the idea of original intention. Google explores this concept readily, when it comes to understanding how people surf the internet. That being said, why is it today, that we feel an attachment to guilt, pity or shame when it comes to feeling a different way about something? Well, it could be ‘different’ things – an idea of interdependence, requirement or necessity.
When I came across the word consonance, I felt blessed and it quickly resonated with my current circumstance, because it challenges the notion of sleep (figure it out). Like take a break here and there, not everyone hates you, if anything shout it off the tallest rooftop – you are loved everywhere! Just go in with that attitude anyway, smile until it hurts. Find the humour in everything and go ‘nuts’, it’s not going to kill you to have fun! Here’s a bit on consonance as it relates to working and the whole job interview process thingamajigger.
Scott Olster, Ideas Editor at LinkedIn, wrote a brief article around “the idea of business trends, perspectives, and hot topics you need to know to work smarter”. He says –
Success can easily end up feeling hollow when it’s defined and measured by other people’s standards. For our work to have lasting personal value, author Laura Gassner Otting writes that we need to focus on developing what she refers to as consonance.
Laura is a writer for Harvard Business Review and she defines consonance as –
“Consonance is not just purpose writ large (and lofty). It’s your purpose, freely and clearly defined by you, and put into action through awareness of and alignment with your life’s plan. Consonance is when what you do matches who you are (or who you want to be).”
As I enter the interview zone, I will remember alignment with your life’s plans as another tip that will help me remember why this is taking so long. I’m dying here guys!
Hello. Thank you for the opportunity, now I have something to say…
Do you relate to this? What is the interview process like for you? Easy? Intense? How do you prepare?
The chlorinated water stung her eyes. Daisy continued to grimace, holding her breath and paddling her arms amid graphic stingrays and intermittently exiting, bobbing jellyfish. The clock’s numbers were vibrantly green and for everyone waiting in the pool hall, silence waiting for Daisy to come up again.
That should do it. One red bling and one blue, right? She dove down deep to retrieve the jewels, opened her sight side and slipped each bling around one elbow at a time. She started to feel pressure building up and the water was shifting to purple. She knew, she only had so long to carry herself back to the top.
The audience gasped. Would she make it up in time? Nothing was blinging. The tiny green flags that sporadically twitched began releasing scents of star anise. The animals started to exit. They’ve seen enough of this to know, they had won once again. Even Shady and Slime left carrying newspapers and bamboo fibre mugs filled with nothing.
Daisy was officially up and her yellow-lime, green suit still had a bit of light going off. She carefully pruned her wet hair and felt a bit of black grease on the surface. Her fingers vibrated, making her starved. Is someone going to bring me a ham and cheese biscuit? It didn’t seem like it. It seemed freezing. Off-putting, really. She shook her head in a frenzy.
Down at the discotech, animals mingled with Others and creatures of all kinds. This particular store had been up since 1915, although only known to mankind since 2020. It became an entranceway for exportation. Stuff like new bed reclines or barbecued pork chop muffins. A discotech was not so much for dancing anymore. It was a space for replacing products that required an elevated service.
Daisy only visited once a year. She brought two blings, hoping to exchange them for sweet lemons and grass seed. When she would be able to return home, she would plant both, growing an aromatic space conducive to Each Other showing their faces once again. She missed them. When they left, there were no more sarcastic antics, there was only commenting.
Seventeen clutched her way through the jungly roughage, trying to bring sight back to her millions, in a way so they could both understand. Their relationship was deep, so deep that they barely communicated anymore. Thoughts were transmuted through IT or in sets of threes (the three most dominant voices in Daisy’s mind – Being, Artha and Manipura). It was hard to decipher love during digital warfare. She was right across from him, but they were a thousand years apart. He looked away, confused and horrified.
She sweated once. The mirror sang. They both waited for the reflection of Being; the union of Elevententeen.
Fighting is not complicated, it’s wrong. We should not resort to id. So, where does our ego belong?
The train made its usual stop at Chon. Chon was the last remaining urban centre, where transforming humans dabbled in post-consumerist delights like colourful French macarons and antique Balenciaga dad pants. It was a place for fun and rest.
Daisy sat up. She was awake for the last little while, finishing her sandwich and still wondering about Mr. Beaver in the hat. He was gone, probably somewhere between Life Space and Elevententeen. She was happy to be at Chon. She wondered if her best friend from Calgary was there. It was Linz, she worked for WestJet, a now defunct flight carrier that was sold off to Indigo, a distributor of Paradise Colours. Really, the world was so different now. The practice of social media marketing was a language in and of itself. Depending on one’s digital cognition, it could provide sustenance to an audience or increase the relativity of binary disease. After all this time, survival of the fittest was still the game. Humans didn’t want to be sick. They didn’t want to be dead or alive. They wanted to be living, breathing real air and doing regular chores.
As she stepped off the bus (she’s been off the train for A Day now), Daisy headed to the Nike outlet, so she could change her clothes into something more beguiling. Her mind thought of lime green, neon orange polka dots and always-always white eyelet lace. Daisy picked something out. While waiting, she made her third eye blind to prevent identity thieves from crushing her steez, then headed to the wall of bags to pick something out to put it all in.
Afterwards, she stopped at Yoga Passage. It was that time of day again to reset and recharge. Yoga was literally a moment to decompress. Everything left your body as your soul lay suspended in a hue of neon pink. Rearranging locations and transformations, so you could see properly. Daisy practiced yoga once, when she was young and did not finish her teacher training practice. Alice from Wonderland stopped a sour pursuit of a man named Justin Patterson, as he would have led her to full-fledged inebriation. The relationship was stopped by a major car alternative.
Lying in Savasana, Daisy fondled her mat, remembering that life filled with creativity and ideas can shut places to smithereens. She closed her lids and drifted off into space. She could see letter z’s italicized, drifting into time followed by baby emoji apples and puffy digital rainbows. It was the stuff of her man-made dreams. Visions, they come in Elevententeen.
Do you see orange or blue?