Last night, it seemed my sense of weariness had went to lunch, leaving alive and attentive far into the hours of morning before it returned late with excuses instead of getting to the task of putting me to sleep.
Not being able to sleep caused my thoughts of wonder as I drifted in my sea of thoughts. The waters were still tonight and that all for one hell of a brainstorm on everything and nothing at all.Some of stories and scenes of valor and other were memories, resurfacing to remind me that my girlfriend was a great person even though she may not be as open as I am. It was fairly calm until I stumbled upon a question that had found it’s wave beside me.
“Do I have a problem?”
It was a simple question and the thought intrigued me like it would anyone else. Did I have a problem? But this question was too open ended to dwell on, the waters began to irritate and it was becoming just to drift. So I accepted the question and indulged, going deeper into why I would question myself in that manner. And the questions was surprising good and perplexing.
“As one who possess a unique gift of creativity for storytelling, do you believe you perceive emotions and details differently from others? Do we consciously invoke our ability to view the world as a narrator to handle situations in better ways than our peers? Do our peer resent us for harboring such an ability?”
It was like I was standing on a stage with a microphone in my hand with a panel beneath me. It was a competition and it my turn to answer the great questions of my brain. I saw other versions of myself sitting behind me with a worried look on their face. The crowd of Winters had the same worried expression and I couldn’t tell whether or not I should get answer right or wrong. If there was even right or wrong.
The sophisticated me that sported a full white beard and a pair of steampunk styled rimless glasses that had gears that shifted the pair of lens looked at with me with a prescription that resembled magnifying glasses to make sure I heard the question.
But how was I suppose to answer the question? On spot like this. Things like this required time to assess and reflect. To gather information to help my point of view when I answered. And as I thought about the answer, it all came to me.
I, as a writer, would like to believe I am closer to my emotions than the average person. I’m not saying to say I’m better than anyone, but as I writer, you explore so many variables of expression and emotion. As a reader, you experience these various array of emotions almost on the same level that they do at times as you put yourself in their shoes and embrace yourself into the character and the story.
We don’t have the pleasure to only look at the world from a single perspective. We are the creators of the world that we want our readers to explore and though we choose the people who will tell the story through their eyes, we take in account that everyone in this story possesses a different view, just like life. We are ultimately, all of the personas and personalities of the story, each just as unique as the people meet in every day life.
As whether not I use my ability to help in real life situations, I would I do. A lot. (Look at me sounding like a mutant with powers.) I believe because I put myself in thousands of situations and attempt to response and react to those situations not as myself, but as another person who different beliefs and values, I believe I am very capable of dealing with people. it kinda like we purposely create different personalities, different personas and because we adopt them as ourselves, we always will retain that way of thinking if that makes sense.
I’ve done it on multiple occasions. A person has asked a question and instead of allowing myself answer the question, I have consciously or unconsciously sipped into one my characters to answer because they were better equip at answering. I could relate to them and understand how they were feeling if I attempted to shift to their shoes.
I hadn’t realize that my thoughts could be heard without me speaking as I came back to reality for a moment, looking at all the different versions of me looking back at me, carefully listening to every word. At least I had the crowd going.
The last question was the one that made reason why I would I have even brought the question up in the first place. I didn’t think people resented me for being able to do that, even if they didn’t know what exactly that was. My girlfriend didn’t like me because I could conjure up an opinion for almost everything. Now, though my self-reflection I understood how and why I could do it.
And how it could be annoying.
But I don’t think people resent me or anything else for being able to do that. I think they might envy them. It is useful ability to have when you are dealing with people because you can court and cater to everyone, having a general idea as to how everyone feels. And even if it doesn’t work out exactly how you planned, most respect the fact that your tried and will consider your advice. So I guess I should find a way not to be so gosh-darn brilliant sometimes. I can already see how it can be annoying. (Good idea for a character, I might add.)
As I opened my mouth to speak, I awoke up with my eyes burning and a headache seemed to welcome the challenge of an aspirin trying to rid of it.
Odd the things we dream, no?