Today's tip: how to overextend a metaphor until it screams

[channonyarrow]

My brain is sort of like a well-loved house. There are dents in the walls, and I remember how they got there. It's comfortable to walk around in it; I know where all the furniture is and where I occasionally need to get new pieces. I can redecorate at will, and sometimes for no reason I paint one wall a different colour just because I can. The same person has lived here for thirty years and there is still the remnant of the posters I tacked up on the walls, coexisting side by side with the very nice coffee table and the thrifted easy chair.

(This is a fancy way of saying I CAN HAZ ISSUEZ.)

Today, I think my brain has squatters.

I'd really like to get them out of here, but I can't seem to make them move. Not even calling the police works.

I've resorted to bringing in the local 'shiners. I'll make the riffraff shut up.

And someday this house will sell. It's time for a change, even if it means I have to pack my bags and flee in the middle of the night.

Comments

[koemiko.livejournal.com]

Sometimes, I feel like my brain is the Wincester Mystery House.

[channonyarrow.livejournal.com]

That's...not really a good thing, I think, or is it? Mostly, I think of, like, the stairs that go nowhere and stuff, and I hope that's not what you mean. Maybe a both good and bad?

[koemiko.livejournal.com]

More like I haven't figured out why my thought processes are they way they are, and they are quite odd and usually quirky. I also will probably be working on them for quite some time.