Why is it that I never can think of anything I want to write about when I have the time? But when I'm lying in bed, drifting off to sleep, I'm suddenly flooded with ideas that will disappear if they aren't written down right away?

It's as if there a small voice inside me holding me back until I'm tucked under the warm comfort of a duvet. I'm in a safety zone that allows my mind to drift. But at the office, when given hours on end with nothing to do (during those supposedly luxurious moments known as "Downtime" ) I freeze up. The last thing I seem to want to do is to start stream of consciousness diatribes. So I surf the web.

I'm sure before the times of the Internet I would have spent my time writing. But the advent of instant transmissions has made me a consumer rather than a producer.

Had the internet not arrived, I'm sure I would have written several children's books for adults. Ed was developing quite nicely until I went off to university. The came Barney and friends, and Ed was no longer the only purple dinosaur on the planet. (The only fire-breathing one though).

Ahh, the theories that have dissolved into the cool air of my unlit bedroom. I'm sure I've solved the problems of time travel (The key to which was unlocked by an obscure SuperGoofy comic book when I was young). I seem to recall my theory was time travel cannot exist... and in fact all that happens is destined to happen. Life is an infinite series of decisions, moments, choices. Every keystroke creates an alternate reality, where, had I not mis-typed, I would be trailing off to another further,...

Each moment presents us with infinite choices and opportunities. The infinite paths that continue to spring forth prevent time travel from occurring. Were you to travel back in time, even for a few moments, there would be an infinite number of time paths you could encounter. In each time path there would be a duplicate you. But returning to the time you departed from would be near impossible, since travelling forward, you would not be able to distinguish the path you came from, as an infinite number of futures rocket forth.

That's what I think now.

What I used to think was if you went back in time onto any one path, everything has been pre-determined. Unless it is predetermined that you arrive in the timeline, all is set. Simply displacing the air would be impossible, as every molecule, atom would have its place, and there would be no place for you. As in the SuperGoofy comic book, grass would be razor sharp, water guns would effectively shoot acid. You could change nothing.

In fact, the addition of your presence in the past would cause a discontinuity in the universe. After all, there is a finite amount of matter in the universe, and your presence in another timeline would cause an imbalance in the amount of matter in that universe. The effect is a point to question.

And we’re still working on the question: Why is it that I never can think of anything I want to write about when I have the time?

kat@adchick.com