As deep as a damp washcloth and saving things

As I sit here in the Boise airport, waiting to go on my summer vacation and trying to drown out the chattering people next to me with Ricky Martin (yes, I listen to Ricky Martin. Stuff it.) I have come to realize a few things. Some of which are inconsequential, others reminiscent to an “ah” moment, and still others that I’ve already known and are rehashing because I need to bitch.
“I hate flying” would be one of those bitching realizations.
I really hate it. Mostly because I have vertigo and the pressure changes screw with my head and ears making life rather unpleasant until my brain can catch up to me and my ears can stabilize.
Another realization that actually made an impact was thinking to myself; you know, I’m really about as deep as a damp washcloth. Funnily enough, I actually said that to Shiri when we were talking about our blogs.
Now, let me clarify, usually when someone tells someone else they’re about as deep as a damp washcloth, it means they’re not that bright. And the person insulting the other is trying to be nice and clever about it.
By no stretch of the imagination am I stupid. I’m not. My college grades reflect an “A” student (except for three of them where my professors and I did not get along). I was reading at an above average level when I was a kid and still do, when I manage to find the time. I’m a pretty damn good conversationalist, though I lack in tact and some social skills, and can spout off history facts that people may or may not know because, instead of Spongebob Squarepants I choose to watch the History Channel or Nietzsche and the Nazis.
What I mean, when I say this about myself, is that I’m in no way one of those people who is so damn impressed with themselves that they think every word out of their mouth is pure gold.
This is something I do not do, and a lesson driven home by a debate captain sister who likes to be challenged but, ultimately, does not want to be told she’s wrong.
I have noticed this about people who climb the ladder and get themselves into a high place, and of people who make their living on the silver screen. Some authors too. Suddenly, because you have money thrown at you and thousands of adoring fans, it gives a sense that you are the most important thing in the world and your words (tweets/blogs/FB posts) are pure gold.
No. They’re not. Trust me.
This is where, I think people land themselves in trouble because the proverbial filter is gone. No one is there to check what is being said to see if it’s at least halfway intelligent. And why should it be? The pattern of the collective masses is to soak up whatever is being said as fact and oftentimes to agree with it implicitly because the person saying it cannot possibly be wrong. It’s the idol/pedestal status.M
This being the case fuels the persons ego and allows them to believe that they are “deeper than a damp washcloth” when it could very well be that the opposite is true.
As for my second realization; it came in the form (surprise) of Old Ipswich Road. As it is right now, my first book is done and I’m starting on the second (Red Riding Hood). Amazingly, in the span of a dog walk I already knew what I was going to do and how the story was going to be laid out. What’s going to happen is known to me as well, though as I’ve learned, that’s subject to change and so I’m not putting too much stock in it right yet.
But the most surprising thing to me was; I actually like this story. I like the premise of it, I like the world I’ve built and more importantly; I like my characters. They’re real to me, which is something that has not happened before.
It’s a great feeling.
So too, is the fact that I have the second and third book (or at least parts of them) already written in the form of a book I wrote in high school. Book of Shadows is a treasure unto itself. I was proud of it when I wrote it and am still proud of it now.
The fact that I saved it (or rather a high school friend saved it) is phenomenal. I don’t save anything.
Perhaps I was meant too, or maybe it was just a good idea. Either way, I’m glad it happened.

Until next time!

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