Hello again, my dear readers, followers, and Gidsciples! Gideon here, yet again, to fill your lives with glee and inspirational words of wisdom, from up here on my amazing Golden Pedestal.
As usual, you’re welcome.
While I was drinking and listening to music with someone important recently, I had it pointed out to me that my blog seems a little restrained. Anyone who knows me personally knows that I don’t really hold back. I say what I’m thinking, what I’m feeling, and what bothers me pretty much all the time; but apparently this blog doesn’t read that way to some folks. From what I’ve been told, what I’ve given you so far has been hit-or-miss in regard to how I actually sound. I’m told my real-world voice is the one everyone wants to hear—not the “watered down for television” version which seems to seep into my blog. (The last two posts apparently were met with lukewarm reception, for example: The one about my revisions, and the one about getting to know your own characters.)
Now, I’m not going to pull those less-popular posts down or anything, or wipe the blog and start over, because I really do believe in the work I’ve put into those posts—whether they were popular or not. But, going forward, I think it’s time I stopped trying to write in a socially acceptable manner, like I’m standing in a room with my grannie, or auditioning for a middle school play, or something. People like me (or hate me) because of the way I put my thoughts and feelings out there for people to either accept, question, or walk away from; without me showing any sort of regard to how they are going to feel or react.
As I’ve mentioned before, I am a self-centered person; an affably ego-driven narcissist who may not go out of his way to hurt other people, but I definitely don’t bother with the kid gloves. I can be blunt, harsh, or even insensitive at times; but it’s always been in the interest of improving things, not to make them worse. I always try to be punching up, not down. (Even if the thing being improved is my own understanding of something I think is totally fucking stupid.)
Author’s Note: I’m referring to really stupid shit—like when people back into parking spaces for no reason. What, are you robbing a bank and need to make a fast getaway, or something? No exit has ever been so urgent otherwise to justify you flipping your car around and bulls-eyeing it backward between two other cars so that you don’t have to suffer the “deep emotional trauma” of backing out of a parking space later. (Don’t even get me started on the jackasses who back into angled spaces—those are deliberately designed with nose-first parking in mind. Jesus Christ, people. What are we, savages?)
As I was saying, this important person had pointed out to me that I don’t normally hold back if I don’t deem it absolutely fucking necessary, so why do it with my blog? My helpful tips are fine, but my opinion is the thing people got more out of. (Apparently, this person received many texts raving about how great my post was in regard to how I give a shit about things, even if I’m not talking about them. You should go read that one.) This blog is supposed to be my voice; not the voice I think is suitable for people to hear. While the discussion was going on, we were listening to Eminem—and while I’m certainly no Slim Shady—it did bring to mind the chorus of “Without Me,” (which wasn’t the song playing at the time, but seemed very appropriate to what I was being told.)
You see, I’ve deliberately been avoiding topical subjects like the news, or deep-diving into geek stuff, or ranting about my pet peeves. This was in an attempt to seem palatable to the random people who may pop into my blog to look into me and think, “Hmm. What’s this guy got going on?”
But that’s just a stronger argument to be myself here. Hell, at one point, my first manuscript for the first book in the series I’m writing had so many variations and versions of the word “fuck” that one of my test readers actually stopped to count them. (It was around 400 at one point.) One of my other readers described my writing as some sort of love child spawned by Joss Whedon and Quentin Tarantino. (Although, I’ve started reading Jim Butcher, and I feel as if I’m a similar style to what he’s got going on.)
So, that’s the guy I’m going to try and present you all with from this point on—the truer, less-restrained version of myself that my people have come to know and love in real life. Maybe you’ll come to love that guy too, but I’m not going to lose any sleep over it if you don’t. One of the best rules in life that I wish I had learned at a much, much younger age than I did, is this:
Other people’s feelings are not your responsibility, and they aren’t your fault.
You can’t make someone feel a certain way, unless they allow it. Should you go out of your way to be a dick to people and tell them to simply get over it? No, obviously not. But should you bob and weave through the minefield of someone else’s emotions, just to keep from setting something off? Hell no. That’s their problem, not yours.
And it’s not mine, either. You’re going to like me or not, and that’s not up to me. But I’d rather you hate me for who I am, than love me for some pussified version of myself.
…I might just be getting the hang of this blog thing after all.
Seriously, though. Just park your car like a normal person.
Get it between the lines, and let it go.