I really need a new laptop- this poor mite has been struck down by every type of problem it can have- besides being purposely lit on fire. I haven't reached that stage quite yet.
It's slow, annoying and won't do what I want.
Oh wait... it's a man.
BURN.
I've spent the last hour reading about fear and rejection. For no real reason; I was curious and there was nothing on television worth my attention.
It seems to all boil down to people being afraid that their own expectations are greiviously lower than the spectator. I am one of those people who just believes being mediocre is perfectl acceptable and any compliments after that should be taken on the chin, empty gratitude served back over the net to the player and then it's 40 love (that's a sport metaphor...).
Mark Twain was apparently so afraid that people would expect such heights from his writing that he often hid it from his most avid readers, Padraig Pearse had a nervous twitch when he spoke in crowds due to the heavy anticipation of being jeered at (thank you for telling me Mrs. History teacher) and JK Rowling still blushes when walking past her own book on a shelf.
That seems crazy. The most succesful and inspirational people in the world thinking they are not good enough to function in the worlds they have made for themselves by being so obviously talented.
I guess some things will never change.
Tonight I read To Kill A Mockingbird. Again. I'm just at the part where Scout has her new gun targetted at Miss. Maudies behind. Atticus will intervene before she takes up aim. I can always depend on him.
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