Is There Any Such Thing as an Original Thought?
Ideas are a fickle mistress. A few years or months ago — as I am convinced I have all the graceful memory of an aging goldfish — I heard that phrase. I’d like to say that initially, I didn’t quite understand its meaning. But, to be honest, if I did, I’d only be saying it because I’m hoping it’ll add more depth to the story and this introduction.
Maybe it’d even give this article a cute little story arc where I have a deeply moving experience and eventually have an epiphany that’ll make me leave the painful discomfort of civilization’s warmth and actual food for the mountains where I have to flip a coin to decide which beautiful berries will kill me and trigger allergies I didn’t know I had.
So, I wouldn’t lie to you and tell you I didn’t understand its meaning. I did.
My Very Own Rising Action
Before going ahead, yes, I had to use Google before remembering the words to use in this subheading. And, no, I will not be seeing a doctor for my memory.
Now that that’s been clarified, one of the first experiences that cemented the meaning of the phrase in my head happened in my younger days. I had an idea for a novel, a cartoon, a movie, or a small business. Again, memory of a goldfish.
Regardless, after I’d had that idea, I’d hoped that someday, somehow, I would get the chance to bring it to life. It’d be so cool and probably make me a lot of money. So much money. Like… Like… N3,000 or even N3,500. Enough to buy me more choco milo — a type of chocolate candy — than I could possibly imagine. I was ready to take over the world and get enough cavities to need a full jaw replacement.
What I wasn’t ready for, however, was seeing that idea pop up on TV one day. Did someone read my elegant diary that was born out of my old Social Studies note and sell the information? Have I been talking in my sleep? How the hell did someone steal an idea that I hadn’t even told anyone about and bring it to life so fast? So many questions.
I was puzzled for a few days and began wondering if I had the idea in the first place. Maybe I saw a billboard and my subconscious took it as his own. Maybe I was just delusional.
But, with the gift of 20–20 hindsight, I realize that I might not have been delusional. Ideas are, as a matter of fact, a fickle mistress.
She comes to you at night while you sleep, straddles you and kisses you softly from your neck to your lips, stopping only to let her lips linger seductively over yours. She slides her nightgown over her hips and off her shoulders as you both lay bare under the silver glow of the moon, the only thing between you both being your skin and the empty but tense air between her lips and yours.
She leans over, the right parts of her chest just slightly grazing yours in lustful teasing and whispers sweet nothings into your ear, enough to make you feel like you’re on top of the world. Enough to have every member of your body pulsating with blood, eager for release.
Then, when she’s done with you, she picks up her gown, leaving you hung as a horse. Afterwards, while you fantasize about what you considered a special and exclusive moment, she walks into the next room to repeat the entire process with someone else, watching at the end to see who will take her first.
She is loyal to no one. She feels no remorse.
So, no, my dear friend. There is no such thing as an original thought. Not as far as I can tell anyway.
Why the Hell Not, Socrates from Yaba?
In case you had those exact words in mind to question my opinion on the subject, I’ll have you know that I am not from Yaba. I come from the prestigious and wildly popular land of Abule Ologinta and seeing as you cannot pronounce that, the joke’s on you.
Now, to provide a bit of context — which I imagine I should’ve done several paragraphs ago (no apologies) — an original thought, in the context of this conversation, is a novel idea. No, Sikiru, I don’t mean an idea for a novel.
I mean a new idea. One that’s never been seen before. Something new, borderline outlandish and groundbreaking. Something that the sun has only just witnessed for the first time.
The reason thoughts like this don’t quite exist is that humans are built on existing structures and templates, if you will. Everything you say, everything you think, everything you are is because of something someone said, thought, or was.
Horse-drawn carriages were built on the premise of wheels that existed before them. Automobiles have their history in one of the numerous technological experiments of humans before them and so on.
That idea you just had is largely because of a coagulation of experiences and conversations you’ve had with other people. It didn’t drop into your head out of thin air. It came because someone else laid the foundation for it or even thought about it before.
So, What’s the Point?
The point, Little Ms. Rushington, is that whatever you’re thinking of has likely been thought of already by another person. What makes it special is doing it.
Aha! I bet you didn’t see that one coming, did you? Didn’t see the aspire to inspire creeping up on you from behind the thick cloud of nearly indecipherable paragraphs.
But, really, your ideas are just as much yours as they are someone else’s. The problems, situations, landscapes, and everything else in between that inspired those ideas in your head are replicated across the world. The only thing that does make them unique is your execution.
Do not be like my preteen self. Do not lose your choco milo fortune because you weren’t ready. Get started. Or don’t. I honestly mostly care about not dying from this heat. Cheers, mate.
