As you may be able to tell by my many rambling, incoherent, weird as shit blog posts, I have many moments of insanity.
Take last night, for example. Last night, I ate parma ham and salmon on digestive cracker thingies, wrote 6k of a novella I should have finished a month ago, put the movie Red on but didn't watch it, then watched Joy of Painting even though I've seen every episode and know Bob Ross' catchphrases off by heart ("let's beat the devil out of it" "happy little clouds" "you want me to be your boyfriend, don't you, Charlotte?"), and then I read George RR Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire books until 11am the next day.
In the back of said book, was a quote by Anne McCaffrey: "I read it until dawn!"
Yes, that's right. I'm madder than Anne McCaffrey. Anne McCaffrey only reads until dawn. I read until some bizarre time that shouldn't exist, like 11am the next day. And while I'm reading, I find myself falling in love with a character who's described as a "grotesque dwarf" and then (mainly because he's actually played by the handsome and wildly charismatic Peter Dinklage) I start, you know. Imagining our pseudo-medieval life together.
All of which is insane enough on its own. But in truth I've done insane-er things. I don't have moments. I have decades of insanity. Centuries. I've probably lived this life a thousand times before, and each one has gotten progressively weirder and more filled with stupid things.
Like shouting at some guy I shouldn't. The guy I shouldn't is probably going to beat me up, now, and even if he doesn't, I just shouted at his girlfriend too. Though in truth I never shout, I just open my mouth and say things I shouldn't (much like Tyrion from A Song of Ice and Fire), and the next thing you know I'm paying for my moment of insanity.
I pay for a lot of my moments of insanity. Like the time I decided to wear pigtails, or the time I announced to my whole high school class and all my high school "friends" that I fancied Data from Star Trek, or the time I told my boss what's what, or the time I told assorted relatives and friends what's what, or the time I picked this life and these things and thought yeah:
This is how I want to be, forever.
I'll tell you truthfully: moments of insanity almost never come out well. Usually they end up with me being metaphorically roasted alive - even the fun seeming ones like staying up for three days straight to read a book, because I'm almost inevitably going to end up blind - or maybe even literally roasted alive.
I mean my boss and that guy and some relative I hate all look pretty angry, by now. They're compiling reports about me as we speak, or failing that they're polishing the spit roast and piling the coals high.
But if it sounds like I don't love moments of insanity just because I'm about to be boiled alive, let me be clear: it's not true. The moments of insanity - however small and insane - are what make life grand. I swear to God, they are. They're what make my friend text me at 11am to ask me how come I'm up so early, then call me a nutter when I explain.
But in a good way. In a way that says they know I'm a nutter and love me for it. How long did I have to forage for friends and family for the ones who loved me all the more for my moments of insanity? A long, long time.
However, I found them in the end.
And then in the middle of one of my greatest moments of insanity - far greater than all of the other actually quite mundane stuff, like "read a book too long" - I was gifted with the greatest thing ever. In a flash of ridiculous wizardry (as though people ever really get published, as though I'm ever going to be one of them) I sent a short story off to Black Lace.
And instead of being roasted alive, I was published. Moments of insanity - they're really not as insane as you might like to think.