My Very Own, Up Close and Personal Stupidity

January 13, 2008 by Keli.

I’ll come right out and say it - I’m depressed. Not a deep, droopy, dull-eyed, “what’s to become of me” despondency, but the more shallow sort, lurking on the surface. This is what happens when I shift into slacker mode and stop writing. I do write fairly consistently. In fact, my next article appears in the March issue of…oh, it’s not important. Just some magazine story about the communicative capabilities of my dogs. But what’s sent me into this dip is that I’ve yet to publish my book. It’s almost complete. The manuscript sits in my full view daily; I’m not blind (only severely near-sighted), yet I choose to ignore it.
What does that make me? That’s right, a stuper (short again for a markedly stupid person). All I have to do is take the pages, clean them up, give them a scrub, and polish them till they glitter. But I don’t.

Could I have indolenza? You know, that uncongenial affliction that combines laziness and indolence, meaning my teacup is full, and I lack the drive to look for more (excuse me, while I give my fingers a rest from typing).

It’s no fun to stand still. It’s even less fun to brand oneself a stuper, particularly when one considers oneself to be a stupidity specialist. I believe I excel in successfully overcoming encounters with stupid people. But what happens when the stupid person is myself?

I’ve always suspected that many experts have trouble following their own advice. Is not one’s greatest enemy oneself (or at least one’s thoughts)? Does Dr. Wayne Dyer ever want to beat the hell out of anyone? I think so. I can read between the lines. Don’t get me wrong - I’m a big fan of Dr. Dyer’s, but I think we fall off the wagon sometimes, and it’s not always easy to chase the rickety thing down and leap back inside, especially while it’s moving.

What’s preventing me from completing my book, you might ask? Well, there is the windowsill in the kitchen that hasn’t been dusted all week. And I haven’t written a thank you note to Geico for the insurance information they send me each and every month. But ultimately, I think it’s some sort of a fear. A ridiculous, ludicrous, nonsensical fear of what will I do once it’s done? Or what if I do a half-cocked job? Or what if I fail? Or (insert your own convenient “what if”)?

When I find I’m hiding beneath my stupidity soapbox, instead of standing atop it expounding my theories and helpful management tips, I know I need help. I try to find another writer or expert and discuss what ails me. Last night I found my aunt, the dentist, who is not only a writer herself and has her third book on dentistry coming out any minute, but who exudes motivation and gives a natural boost to all in her presence.

I suggest that if you find yourself acting like a stuper, grab someone whom you are certain is not one and tell him/her how you feel. Talking it over with an authentic person may give you the direction you need and the motivation to do what you should.

At the moment of commitment, the entire universe conspires for your success ~ Goethe

Keep thinking!

Keli

Keli@Counterfeithumans.com

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