O.k. so I sorta stole that from the Redbull commercials. Redbull does not, by the way, give you wings. It can give you heart palpatations, increased sweating, irrational thinking, sugar highs and irritability. But not wings.
Writing, on the other hand, does give you wings. Wings that fly on the skies of imagination.
This enlightening post came about after I met a man. This man came by my house with his kid to pick up one of my kids. In preparing for his visit, I made sure my house was spotless and very welcoming in case he wanted to come inside. Unfortunately I ended up meeting with him on the front porch instead of inside the house. He walked down the sidewalk towards me but stopped about five to ten feet short of actually standing next to me.. It was the oddest and coldest thing I’ve ever had happen. I had my game on, I was smiling, I was in my peoplely mode of action, I was happy, I was being my extrovert self and it was all encircling my very person. But when I came upon him, he was absolutely still, no talking, no smiling, no offering of conversation, he was just the man who for all intents and purposes existed in a sphere of nothingness. There were no emotions, no smiles, no handshakes, not even a leaning in or nod of the head to let me know he acknowledged my presence. This guy was made of stone if I had to guess. There was a lack of personality being displayed. It was total and utter blankness.
After he left, my mind immediately began work on deciphering this man’s lack of mood/emotion/personality. What was his story? As a writer, I see a story in everyone. Some stories are better than others but everyone at least has one. For this guy and his total lack of everything – I was sure he must have something hidden. Maybe he had a body full of hidden scars. Maybe he was a tortured individual. Maybe he was afraid of everyone and everything. Maybe he was a straight liner, one of those who lives his entire life based on what the social norms’ say he should. He bases his activities on what is advised for his age and his daughter’s ages. He is a man with a plan and he sticks to it every step of the way.
I just feel that everyone has a story and this man’s story, which was so very well hidden from me, was of interest. Who was this quiet, mild mannered man? What was in his past? What was in his future? What did he think of me and my enormously large sphere of personality that seems to radiate from within me at times?