It never ceases to amaze me how stupid I can be. I mean, by many standards I am actually an intelligent person. In school I always got As in classes I liked, Bs in classes that were interesting but not my favories, Cs in the other classes.
When confronted with problems at work and school I would usually come up with a creative solution that worked. I remember the one place I worked I redid their entire coding system. Spent three months doing it. I found out that fifteen years later they were still using it.
And my ideas for improving efficiency were all implemented with great success.
No, I am not a stupid person.
So why do I behave so stupidly?
It's desperation. You know?
That feeling of extreme panic when I realize what my life has turned into. And so when someone likes me, I put reason and caution aside and leap forward, hoping to find something that just isn't there.
I can make use of my stupidity. In my writing.
My characters can be just like that. Intelligent. Until it comes to a matter of the heart. And then - like the flipping of a switch - foolishness reigns supreme.
Except I have a difficult time not writing happy endings. Too much reality for me, I guess.
I guess I can't find what I'm looking for because it's beyond my having in this life. Or maybe I just don't know what it is.
Whichever, I now have another painful experience to draw from when writing a story about a character I want to be real.