Drugs, Water, Balloons, and a Suitcase
January 28, 2013 § 29 Comments
I was having trouble with a metaphor.
I was trying to explain to someone how much I need good conversation in my daily life, how grateful I am for it. I’m talking fun, smart, two-way, challenging, question-and-answer conversation. I don’t just like it. I need it.
So I said, maybe I am addicted to conversation. Like a drug.
No. Not meth. Come on. I’m too vain to have meth teeth.
A hit of great conversation can make me feel lit-up, productive, happy. Too long without it, and I’m anxious, down, unable to get untangled from my own thoughts. Written or out-loud, either way is fine, but I’m picky about quality. Boring small talk just isn’t the same. If I can’t get the good stuff, I’d rather not have anything and just deal with the shakes.
Aaand… that’s as far as I got with that metaphor. (I’m not very up on my lingo, what with not doing drugs of any sort these days.) So I tried… I need good conversation like water.
More than half full.
Yes. That’s it. Like water. I thirst for great conversation. Without it, I’ll dry up and blow away. With it, my leaves… oh dammit, now it sounds like I’m a plant. That’s not what I was going for. Metaphors are hard.
And then it came to me: balloon animals. My need to make good conversation is like a need to make balloon animals.
There. That’s better.
Hear me out: A need to make balloon animals on a regular basis is something a lot of people don’t understand. Balloon animals are probably considered non-essential to most. Frivolous to some. But they are important to me. (In this metaphor, I mean. Where they represent conversation. In real life, I don’t give a shit about balloon animals.) Metaphorically: When something good or bad or funny or interesting happens, I breathe it in. I hold it inside and let it fill up my lungs for a while. Then I reach a point where I have to blow that breath out and make it into something I can see. I need to show it to someone else and say, “What do you think of this?” Some people are keep-it-all-inside people. I am a balloon-animal-it-out person.
I’m happy to make balloons into just about anything. If you have a dog, we can make balloon animal dogs. If you like music, I will make you a balloon guitar. If you are a book lover – and oh, how I love a book lover who also loves balloon animals – let’s read a book and then make the characters out of balloons. Hell, I like to make balloon animals just for fun.
(Is this working? The balloon animal thing? Or should I go back to “drugs” or “water” or just “conversation”? I think I’ll stick with it a bit longer, see how it goes.)
Not everyone wants a balloon animal. Some people don’t see the point. Some are too busy. Some people, frankly, just aren’t any good at it – you hand them a balloon animal and they can’t figure out what it is. I’m sorry, but I can’t make balloon animals with a dumbass who can’t tell a balloon giraffe from a balloon hedgehog.
I am most delighted when I pull a balloon out of the little suitcase of balloons I drag around (does this count as a new metaphor, now that we’ve introduced the suitcase?) and say, “Watch this!” and — wiggity-wiggity-twist — a balloon monkey or frog or piglet or bear appears; and I hold it out in my hands, and someone takes it, and they say, “Oh, I know exactly what this is.”
Then, in the absolute best-case scenario, they reach into their suitcase and pull out a balloon and say, “Here. See if you can figure out this one.”
Yep. That’s it.
* * *
PS: After I wrote this, I had this thought: What if you were addicted to literal balloon animals? Like you got the shakes if you didn’t have a balloon animal in your hands at all times? That would be funny. I mean, sad, I guess. But funny.
Funny and creative post
Oh, thank you. Glad you enjoyed it. Wasn’t sure this one made any sense.
I have a girlfriend who, if I don’t see for too long, I become actively dumber. We have to be sure to get together periodically to keep our brains from atrophying, so I totally get it.
Though, we have never made balloon animals. I’d stick with “water.”
Ha! Water it is.
I have friends like that, too.
Could a mixed metaphor be the entry to the conversation? As in, “here’s another crazy and un-understandable way of thinking about this that will make your brain hurt?” Pretty sure in-understandable isn’t a word, so maybe someone who says that and mixes their metaphors isn’t known for their conversational skills.
Indeed. Mixed metaphors kick off a number of my conversations.
You all don’t know how much it tickles me that you read and commented on this one. The balloon animal metaphor has been following me around for days. I had to write it down; but I wasn’t sure anyone else would even get it. Thank you.
Good conversation is addicting…like chocolate, and of course balloon animals.
And chocolate animals.
and chocolate balloon animals?
Please make me a balloon animal of Charles Darnay. I woke up thinking about him and I need that balloon.
That is quite the literary balloon challenge. I am ON IT.
Loved this!! Xxx
Sent from my iPad
Oh, thank you, Blythe!
Love that Wedding Crashers clip!
I think you succeeded brilliantly. I weirdly now get your need for conversation, based on your balloon animal metaphor.
Thanks!
I do love that movie.
Based on this blog post, I think I’d like to partake in one of your good conversations! I’m sure I’d come away with a whole new perspective just as I have after reading this hilariously creative blog post.
Thank you, Stacey! Hope you and yours are well. I need to check in and read up on you guys.
Love this — AND, I can totally relate. I miss the long and meaningful conversations I had before kids. Now they are always interrupted by me shouting things like: “Stop sitting on your brother’s head!” “Peanut butter does NOT belong on the wall!” Great post!
Exactly. Multi-tasking does not always lend itself well to eloquent conversation.
Fantastic post! This made me giggle so much that my colleagues started giving me weird looks from across the office. Thanks for that (genuinely, not sarcastically) – I feel similar to the way I do when I’ve just had a good conversation
Oh, thank YOU!
Haha I love your brain!! I will never look at balloon animals the same.
Thanks!
Question: Would a balloon hedgehog pop itself? Just wondering. I have a terrible tendency to get mired in the specifics of detailed metaphors.
I’ve given this a great deal of thought, and here’s what I think:
It wouldn’t pop *itself* — but it would probably pop ANOTHER balloon hedgehog if the two came close enough… which is why balloon hedgehogs are destined to keep a tragic, lonely distance from one another.
Well, hedgehogs don’t poke each other, so I would assume that any balloon animal that evolved protective balloon-spikes would only use them for balloon-defense against balloon-predators. Otherwise, it would neither survive nor reproduce, the two necessary objectives of every balloon animal.
Science, for the win!
Ah, I love this solution! The “tragic, lonely distance” one was just. so. sad.