Are You Stupid?

That looks yummy

That looks yummy

It’s wet. It’s slimy. Some like it raw. Others like it hot. Like people’s sexual tastes, oysters come in different varieties and are considered an aphrodisiac. In Northern California, Point Reyes is synonymous with oysters. Not so much sex, but people do have sex there. Not out in the open. That’s San Francisco. I’m not much of a fan. I mean of oysters. Massive fan of sex. Just check out my browsing history, which is cleared nightly by the way. Ahem…back to Point Reyes.

Some friends and I trekked up to this iconic tourist spot to have a picnic before hiking out to Arch Rock. There was a guy there who I had met before at a dinner. The only thing that I remembered was him stating, “My IQ is just below genius.”

After the chirping sounds faded away, I said, “Mine is below genius.”

He didn’t laugh.

At the picnic, he and a friend of mine were having an intellectual conversation, and something caught my ear. I can’t recall what it was, but by the statement he had made when we first met, I knew his ego was pretty fucking big. So my ego stepped in and asked if the world determined his happiness. No, he responded.

“So if I said you were stupid, you’d be OK with that?” I asked.

“No. I wouldn’t allow it,” he said with determination.

“How would you not allow it? I just said it.”

“I would have to defend myself.”

“Against my words that did you no physical harm?”

“Because you attacked my integrity.”

“So if I called you a car, would you become a car?”

“No, but you would have attacked my integrity.”

“By calling you a car?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t allow it?”

“So the world does determine your happiness.”

He gazed out into the distance and thought. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the end of our circular conversation, as I tried to explain that happiness lives within and really can’t be affected by the outside world unless we allow it.

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. – Eleanor Roosevelt

Maybe I was wrong by using the word ‘stupid’. So him not getting it was probably my fault. But when I turned the word from ‘stupid’ to ‘car’ he still didn’t budge.

Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. This is a fundamental truth in the human experience. So many of us allow what people say affect us that we don’t realize it is us who allow that to happen. Now, I’m not saying I’m perfect when people say shit to me. See me going third grade on someone's ass. But I realize that my knee-jerk reaction is like slapping myself. It hurts at first. But as long as I don’t slap myself again—realizing that words mean nothing to me unless I want it to—then the sting will go away.

Here are a few pictures of Arch Rock...

The Curse and the Cure

Shake my hand, dammit

Shake my hand, dammit

From my experience, having an antagonist that seems or is very distant can present the small issue of conflict and tension; the chosen one may not always have direct contact with their antichrist. So having someone that is a little closer, aside from circumstantial disasters, to provide some conflict with the main character is important.

One good example is Draco Malfoy. In Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, For He Who Shall Not Be Named is somewhere off in the Forbidden Forest, which is forbidden, and doesn't provide direct conflict until the end. Given Malfoy's name and Harry’s alliance with Ron, Draco is in direct conflict with Potter. We as the readers realize this immediately.

In Nightfall, my hero has to fight a war with his former teacher. Problem with that, geographically, they're a continent apart. Though, the antagonist does affect my hero even through the distance, I like to have other characters that constantly give the hero issues. That along with circumstantial disasters allows me, the author, to put my hero in constant conflict by different means. I’m hoping that keeps my readers’ interest throughout the trilogy. Aside from the fact that Draco was the constant heel of Harry, my hero will have some that are constant, some that will turn on him for a good length of time, while others will represent red herrings, like Professor Snape.

I did this because the story required it, that somehow it needed it, and it wasn't a conscious requirement on my part. What got me thinking about it was a hike that I’d done with a group in Point Reyes, located in Northern California next to the coast. It’s an incredible area, known for secluded beaches, immense hikes—ours was 15 miles—and shaded trails that bode well even in the summer (see gallery below).

Fuck with me not

Fuck with me not

Around twenty of us went, most were very friendly, and I’d known a few of them from prior hikes. There was one woman who seemed to be my heel for the day. Why? I don't know exactly, but maybe because after I introduced myself I had left without continuing our conversation. I felt no connection to her whatsoever, I usually don’t know why when that happens, but most of the time my intuition is right so felt no reason to talk to her further.

Half-hour into the hike, a group of us were talking about something, and she made a point. I disagreed with it, and she kicked dirt at me. So being immature, I kicked dirt back. I know, childish. Then, like a thundercat, she reached for the ground and grabbed a fistful of dirt, twigs and leaves, ready to throw it at my face. She demanded why I kicked dirt at her, and I’m like…what? Like a third grader on the playground, I said, “You kicked dirt at me first!”

“Oh, we’re even then,” she agreed. 

Don't mess wit me sucka

Don't mess wit me sucka

At this point, I began to see my intuition was correct.

Throughout the hike, she kept taking jabs at me. Somehow, we stumbled onto the conversation on height, and I jokingly stated she was short. She pointed her finger at me and said, “Hey! You’re short. I’m average.” She’s 5’2” and I’m 5’6”. Sorry little girl, but we’re both short. I said nothing, thinking my immature behavior earlier might have prompted the wrath from this woman before realizing maybe it was me leaving abruptly when we met.

Everything makes sense now

Everything makes sense now

Toward the end of the hike, I was flirting with a girl, and I had said something she didn’t understand. So when I tried to explain, she had laughed and told me don’t even try. So I said,” You’re gonna play me like dat?” Sometimes I get ghetto without knowing it. The woman with the wrath turned around—she wasn’t even part of the conversation—and said, “She knows you’re full of it,” and high-fived the girl. Since the short comment, I decided not to joke with this woman because she definitely can’t take it. She had found great comfort and camaraderie with people who seemed to agree with her philosophies of life, nothing wrong with that. But I knew she was a person who was very closed. Her ego dictated her every emotion and action. Not saying mine doesn’t have some effect on me—kicking-dirt incident—but when it happens I’m aware of it, which was why I didn’t react to the many jabs she’d taken.

All of this is to say one thing: trust your intuition. Well, how do you do this? Simple. Whenever you have confirmation that your intuition is true, you thank it.

I began to realize this when I kept cursing myself whenever I forgot my keys, or my bag, etc. I forgot more and more and more. So I tried something new. Whenever I remembered something, I thanked whatever part of my mind that remembered. And I forgot less and less. Do I still forget things? Sure. But not to the degree when I punished myself for it.

Don’t be so hard on yourself. Let go. Things will get better.

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