This is just like me

Megs:

Hum hum, conumdrums.

I bet, hypothetically, if I ever wrote a really good book, or made a really good painting that surpassed anything I've ever done before, the final manuscript or piece would end up sitting in the corner of my room, or under my bed, because I wouldn't be able to think of a title/name with it that I didn't feel was rubbishy, or already taken.

This is just an observation.

What was that saying? A truly eloquent donkey would starve to death / die of dehydration if it was place equidistance from a pile of hay and a trough of water, if it was equally hungry and thirsty, because it wouldn't be able to decide. This is very a compelling thought, and really rather fail.