The Lament of the Wannabe Inventor

Hey you! Yeah, you! Sitting there in your bloody pyjamas eating junk food all day. What are you doing with your life? Whatever happened to all those dreams you had whilst you were a kid?

Well, don’t feel so bad about it, because alongside death and taxes, this is another certainty of life: you won’t ever do the job that you dreamt about doing whilst you were a kid. For instance, when I were a lad, I wanted to become an astronaut (between the ages of 3-5), a David Attenborough-esque documentary presenter (ages 5-7), and an inventor (ages 7-11).


Oh, and a Clanger (ages 1-3)

It isn’t hard to see why I didn’t achieve either of the first two careers; firstly, I have the charm of a microwave and the emotional warmth of a Terminator, whilst my physique can easily be described as being doughier than what would result from the Pillsbury mascot doing Homer Simpson impressions inside a bread factory that’s owned by a female deer who also happened to have made a fortune creating a certain brand of plasticine.

So, why aren’t I out inventing the next big thing? Well, for a start, it’s not because I’m not qualified; years of studying at university has left me well-versed in how to spend hours doodling, watching old science-fiction shows, and not earning any money. No, what people fail to realise though is that the main difficulty in being an inventor lies in actually…you know…inventing something that hasn’t already been invented by someone else. Or, as the case was recently, inventing something that you have no possible idea of how to create.


The Bacon Blimp being a case in point

My invention was a simple one to do with blogging and writing. You see, when I’m writing stuff like this, I always think of little lines or comments or pictures that I could make to either further illustrate my point or get a laugh out of. But, because if I did this my work would literally consist of nothing more than an unceasing smorgasbord of parantheses and random images, I have to discard these little pieces of material.

My invention would have freed me from this literary oppression and changed all of that. Therefore, without a further of a do, I hereby introduce…Un-Named Thing!

Yes, I know it looks like one of my articles with a few oddly-coloured hyperlinks in; bear with me. Basically, the idea is that those oddly-coloured hyperlinks links directly to the relevant bits of added stuff I wanted to insert. All you have to do to access this stuff is simply just hover your mouse over the link, wherein a small pop-up panel by your mouse cursor will display whatever the link goes to, be it texts or images. If you want an example, it’s kind of like how you when you roll your mouse over the name of a friend on Facebook, a few details about them pop up on the screen.

So, here’s a mock-up:

So, to summarise, it’s simply just a website with some special magic wizardy computer programming that would allow you to read extra content associated with an article without actually leaving the article itself.

But, like I said, I can’t write website programming. But I do know words. So here’s something else I’ve invented during the interim. It’s a phrase that perfectly encapsulates this situation I’m in at the moment. Read it, learn it, and insert it in as many conversations as you can.

“Frushitagory [noun]: A state of mind that can only be reached by realising that you’re in a endless cycle of doing-nothingness. By now, you are the living embodiment of a mobus strip trying to climb up a mountain made of melted butter.”

And best of all? No-one has ever said it before me. So now I’m finally an inventor. Go me.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s