Are you Animal, Vegetable or Mineral?
Everything in the world seems to be categorized. Solid or liquid? Flat or round? Tall or short? Thin or fat? Old or young? You have to be SOMETHING. Everyone says so. So today I want to know – are you animal, vegetable or mineral?
To begin with, anything that’s never been alive is classified as mineral. That’s the rock at the side of the road, the chair you sit on, and your teenage son who hasn’t moved off the couch since he got his first Gameboy. The only way you can tell there might be a sign of life is the occasional, barely perceptible rhythmic nod of his head to the music from his iPod, filtering into his head through his earbuds.
I’d say it’s the computers we work on, except I think mine has a life of it’s own. It eats my documents, swallows my emails, and types by itself, I know that for a fact because when I look up at the monitor, I know I didn’t write the words I see. So maybe a mineral is something that’s never been alive but suddenly woke up.
Like me, when I decided to write a romance novel and invented a new definition for obsessive.
If you’re vegetable, you grow out of the ground, on a tree or bush, or sometimes in the corners of motel bathrooms. You can be a blushing vegetable, like a tomato (oh, wait, a tomato is really a fruit). A long, skinny vegetable like a carrot or a string bean, or my fourth grade writing teacher, Miss Drinkwater. That woman invented the term penmanship. You can be a golden vegetable, like corn, with a touch that turns everything into money.
Or finally, are you an animal? Round and fluffy like a ewe. Lean and fast like a racehorse. Snuggly and purring like a cat. A squawker, like a chicken (oh, wait, that was my aunt Lena). Slow and contented like a cow (nope, don’t go there. LOL).
Me? I think I’m a little bit of everything. I wasn’t even alive until I met my wonderful husband. I grew like a vegetable as I plunged into my writing. And an animal who’s hungry for life.
So, what are you – animal, vegetable or mineral.