“Different” — that’s a word that stood out in my “private and confidential” school records. Private and confidential? Not when they tell you…and everybody else what’s in there when pointing out the whys and wherefores of being passed over for something you very much want to do. I’ve been stuck with that label my whole life. It used to hurt. Now it’s an honor, since “everyday Joe” and “everyday Sally” seems to mean no common sense, no rational judgement, no logic, no cognitive excellence, and no propensity for deductive, never mind inductive reasoning, and certainly no synthesis.
So, yes, I’m different — well-adjusted, happy, independent-minded. Different in that I like people, one on one anyway, though mobs throw me off completely. (Avoid mobs like the plague, I do.) Different in that I’m not afraid of spiders, mice, or snakes. Different in that I don’t mind what religion you embrace, so long as you don’t expect or demand me to embrace it, too. Different in that I could care less what race you are, how old you are, what gender you are, what your sexual preferences are, or what medications you down on a frequent (or infrequent) basis…until and unless your impairment endangers, not yourself, but others.
Different, they said and still say. Why? I’m not sure. I think I’m not so different…or shouldn’t be. And I expect that how I am is much similar to how you…or anyone is — good on the inside through and through, always striving with the best intentions, not the worst.
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Here’s another one used on me a lot: Over-achiever.
That one just really makes my mind stir. Huh? Over-achieve? How is that possible? You either achieve or you don’t achieve. How in the world does one over-achieve?
Someone sighs and explains.
Oh. You mean I try very sincerely and to the best of my ability to actually do something. …Ah…well, yes. I do that. One thing I don’t do is “half-baked, half-assed, half-hearted.” I’m never lazy…well, almost never. I admit that I’ll plop down in a chair and sip a cool drink on a broiling hot day instead of ensure that my lawn is manicured, but manicured lawns just aren’t my thing. Grass is good; green carpets that look like putting greens are for…putting greens, not a useful ground cover where I can play badminton or work through my daily martial art regimen.
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There. Enough about me for one day. 
Recently:
- Writing Pedagogues
- They Work Very Hard
- Treading the Dangers of Fiction
- Infighting About Grammar & Punctuation
- Scary Writers
- New Novel, Chapter Two
- To the Book Store
- New Novel Amid Chaos
- Raw Gore, Explicit Cruelty, Debased Sex in Novels
- Back from Summer Hiatus
