A couple of weeks ago there was a thing announced at work to name something. I work in Silicon Valley for an organization that’s pretty much asshole deep in the history of the tech part of the region.

When they were making the announcement, I leaned over and said the first thing that popped into my head. LAter on I mentioned it to someone else, and they were like “yeah, you should submit that.” I did. The workplace voted. I won. I’m a C-note richer.

Here’s why I feel like a loser, which of course I am, not the good old, cheery, cheer worker bee. Clearly, I can string a word or two enough to come up with an idea. Maybe you’d call that creative. One word, and I’m a fucking giant of making shit up. One word.

Try stringing one into two into three into ten into 40 into 10,000, and I am way the fuck out of my element. I’d give me a full sentence max before creation peters the fuck out.

Actually, the best part is my little journey of self discovery. I can’t fucking believe it, but when I got up to accept my winnings in front of the workplace, and they asked me to explain my one word, my hands were shaking. I haven’t felt that kind of public-speaking nerves for quite some time. Nice remember of how far I have not come.

Not my pic, but a garage somewhere in the valley made of silicon chips, which is where I live.

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