Something CRAZY this way comes
Speaking of which, I should really get around to reading the book. I mean Ray Bradbury is all kinds of awesome! Is it any wonder I have a tendency toward darker fiction. Bradbury and Neil Gaiman being among my favorite authors. (Speaking of which, I just started The Graveyard Book. Wow… It takes real talent to start a children’s book with a murder and pull it off.) I wonder if Something Wicked This Way Comes on Project Gutenburg… Probably not. It’s not that old.
Anyway. Sorry. Total rabbit trail there. Back to what I intended to write about.*
It is a little known fact that I am crazy insecure about certain things. (I know! I was shocked too!) I’m not going to sit here and air all my dirty laundry (Ya’ll don’t need more ammunition than you already have.) but I’m feeling generous and in a sharing kind of mood that is rare for me. Those of you that know me (and now those of you that don’t.) are well aware that I could talk your ear off about just about any topic that I have the smallest bit of knowledge about, but when the topic turns to me, I clam up. I don’t like to be at the center of attention in most any situation, just near it. I can do the get up in front of a crowd and hold forth, but I get the shakes like crazy once I’m done. If I can be, I dunno, the best friend or adviser or anything like that, to the person in the middle I’m pleased as punch. Just don’t shine that light to close to me. I’m the one over there in the back, on the left.
That being said, I have decided to let a little bit of the real me show. It’s a conversation that I’ve had with my wonderfully supportive husband countless times. (Thanks, babe.) One of the things that I keep dwelling on and that has, in the past, affected how willing I am to open up and really allow people to get close is that I’m convinced that people see me as an insufferable bore. Every time I feel myself dominating too much of a conversation or going all Hermione and rattling off idiotic and meaningless factoids that no one asked for, a part of me bludgeons me about the head and shoulders, berating me for boring people. Even now, as I am writing this longer-than-usual post, that little voice is shaking its head and assuring me that no one wants to hear what I have to say and shame on me for unloading my problems on you. Yet I soldier on. If nothing else, writing here isn’t much different than the journals I kept all through high school and it’s good practice for my writing.
But, I have decided that I need to be more open and honest with people and, let’s face it, a blog is a pretty non-confrontational way to do that since I don’t have to face unreadable or blank expressions as I crack away at a bit of my personal wall.
So, my loyal and forgiving reader, there you have it. A little bit of my personal crazy as if you haven’t seen plenty of that already… But, I guess the difference is that this was hard for me to say. That publish button (or rather “schedule” since I wrote this in advance) was hard to push, but no harder than sharing my creative writing with you and maybe even a little less personal.
*side note: I started this post intending to write about my obsessive checking of my blog stats, but it morphed into this… But in reality, they’re kind of the same thing. Page views are like crack to someone seeking validation! And don’t get me started about comments! See what I just did there? ;-)