I'm A Little Crazy
If I face the cold, hard truth, I see that no matter what I think, I am a little crazy. And my (loving) boyfriend and probably my family would be the first ones to tell you.
The other week, I was on a birthday-date with my dad (4 months late, I know...but that's part of the tradition!), and we were talking about my writing class. He said something that's stuck with me over the past few weeks...that to be a really good writer, you have to be a little crazy and over-emotional. Maybe not completely bi-polar, but on the lower end of the spectrum. And it kind of scares me...because I don't want to become crazy, but then I realized I already am.
For example, this past Saturday I spent approximately 7 hours watching episode after episode of 48 Hours Mystery (I think that's what it's called?) on TLC. Basically, it's an hour long episode about a murder. It goes over what happened, who the suspect is, the trial, whether or not someone was convicted, etc. Don't worry - I'm not saying that I'm that kind of crazy. The murderer kind. Trust me, I couldn't hurt a fly! But murders absolutely fascinate me (they also scare me). I love to watch Dateline, to see the re-enactments, to hear the details, to cringe at the thought of "who could possibly do this to somebody." I obsess easily at things. Whether it's an event I want to happen, a book, a blog, etc. I specialize in obsessing about sad things, which is kind of weird to say (and admit). Since I was a little girl, I've had an extremely tender heart (I'm not saying this to be all non-humble, but it kind of sounds like it...). I cried when other people's grandparents died. I cried when my mom's friend's mom died - my parents even took me to her funeral - a woman I didn't even know, to grieve Mrs. Marcia's loss. I obsessed over 9/11, watching every TV special about the wives and the children, and I cried at those too. I was broken-hearted over a little girl, who's family were missionaries in Haiti, who had terminal cancer and eventually died. I read her dad's blog with tears streaming down my face. Things easily hurt me - not just death, but when others are mean to each other, I'm sick to my stomach. Anyway, the point is that I have to be very cautious about what I am sad about and pray about and keeping those things just out of reach that they don't become my whole life. Maybe this whole blog post sounds a little crazy to you, or maybe you're a tender-hearted person and you get where I'm coming from when I say I really have to guard my emotions and my heart.
Recently, I've been pouring over the Jason Young re-trial. I have read every article on WRAL about it, and I am even watching the court videos. Crazy, right? I'm not obsessing over it, but when I take a step back, I just think it's (I) am so weird! And crazy. The murder was committed four and a half years ago and I know (almost) every detail that's known to the public. It's just absolutely fascinating for me how the prosecution and defense try to convict/protect Jason Young, what I personally think he did (or did not?) do, how he is during the trial, and how the testimonies are told.
I realized all of my stories I write or the ideas I have are really sad. I don't know why, but maybe it's just because I know that emotion and I know how to make others feel like I do through my words. Who knows...I guess I'm just a little bit crazy.
The other week, I was on a birthday-date with my dad (4 months late, I know...but that's part of the tradition!), and we were talking about my writing class. He said something that's stuck with me over the past few weeks...that to be a really good writer, you have to be a little crazy and over-emotional. Maybe not completely bi-polar, but on the lower end of the spectrum. And it kind of scares me...because I don't want to become crazy, but then I realized I already am.
For example, this past Saturday I spent approximately 7 hours watching episode after episode of 48 Hours Mystery (I think that's what it's called?) on TLC. Basically, it's an hour long episode about a murder. It goes over what happened, who the suspect is, the trial, whether or not someone was convicted, etc. Don't worry - I'm not saying that I'm that kind of crazy. The murderer kind. Trust me, I couldn't hurt a fly! But murders absolutely fascinate me (they also scare me). I love to watch Dateline, to see the re-enactments, to hear the details, to cringe at the thought of "who could possibly do this to somebody." I obsess easily at things. Whether it's an event I want to happen, a book, a blog, etc. I specialize in obsessing about sad things, which is kind of weird to say (and admit). Since I was a little girl, I've had an extremely tender heart (I'm not saying this to be all non-humble, but it kind of sounds like it...). I cried when other people's grandparents died. I cried when my mom's friend's mom died - my parents even took me to her funeral - a woman I didn't even know, to grieve Mrs. Marcia's loss. I obsessed over 9/11, watching every TV special about the wives and the children, and I cried at those too. I was broken-hearted over a little girl, who's family were missionaries in Haiti, who had terminal cancer and eventually died. I read her dad's blog with tears streaming down my face. Things easily hurt me - not just death, but when others are mean to each other, I'm sick to my stomach. Anyway, the point is that I have to be very cautious about what I am sad about and pray about and keeping those things just out of reach that they don't become my whole life. Maybe this whole blog post sounds a little crazy to you, or maybe you're a tender-hearted person and you get where I'm coming from when I say I really have to guard my emotions and my heart.
Recently, I've been pouring over the Jason Young re-trial. I have read every article on WRAL about it, and I am even watching the court videos. Crazy, right? I'm not obsessing over it, but when I take a step back, I just think it's (I) am so weird! And crazy. The murder was committed four and a half years ago and I know (almost) every detail that's known to the public. It's just absolutely fascinating for me how the prosecution and defense try to convict/protect Jason Young, what I personally think he did (or did not?) do, how he is during the trial, and how the testimonies are told.
I realized all of my stories I write or the ideas I have are really sad. I don't know why, but maybe it's just because I know that emotion and I know how to make others feel like I do through my words. Who knows...I guess I'm just a little bit crazy.
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