Monday morning. In stereotypical fashion, I am, of course, dragging today. Patently unmotivated would be a fair term to use. I had a decent weekend. Saturday I was at my friendly local game store, Crossroad Games, to help them celebrate their 16th anniversary. It was fun, I ran a D&D game, which went really well, probably one of the best I've ever run. It felt good to flex my imagination and tell a story. I think the reading and writing I've been doing more of lately, have really awakened that part of me that has been lulled to sleep by the drone of the idiot box, where you don't have to think. It is invigorating to me, to tell a tell and watch as people you're telling it to get drawn in.
Imagination is a funny thing. I spend a lot of time suppressing it, because it invariably makes me imagine the worst possible outcome of any given situation. It's the thing that makes me unable to sleep with the closet door open. There's usually a price to pay for any talent. A lot of the fears I bear are direct results of the things I've read or heard over the years. I absorb them, unable to stop the runaway train of horrible images that railroad through my mind. There's always a price to paid for talents.
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