Confession: I am fantastic

Every so often (like pretty much multiple times daily…or hourly) something happens to remind me that just because I live inside my head and understand the way I think, not everybody *gets* my perspective on the world.  Some delight in it (I call them “friends”), others are perplexed by it, others cross the street or throw rocks (or both).  Many of my closest friends are a mix of quirky and delightful brilliance.  Here is an excerpt from an e-mail to one of them from earlier this week, as I had an Inkling she would understand:

Sometimes I forget that not everyone in the world thinks like I do.  Attempting to explain the concept of “lembas bread” to a fiercely rational left-brained person who has never touched a book of any sort of fantastic dimension ever (who also lacks sufficirmt imagination to ever WANT to) is not for the impatient or the faint of heart.  Seriously, try to explsin how/why it should be to someone who does NOT come to the conversation with the implicit assumption that “if it is elvish, it is therefore enchanted” (sad really).

I can’t even imagine how long it would take to explain elvish rope — or worse yet — blades that glow in the presence of Orcs.

There are days when Ithink about Middle Earth (actually, really, any time my phone rings as “Concerning Hobbits” is my ring tone); today is one of those days when I would like to take up residence.

Hope you’re having a fantastic day.

So yes…I do know some “girly” books, but find modern fiction generally insipid.  I’m sure my mother’s gotten over my disdain for Little Women (her favorite, but one I find insufferably dull), but I much prefer “boy books” like Lewis, Tolkien, MacDonald, etc.  Pass the Sci-Fi, pass the Fantasy, keep the Romance (preferably somewhere else…like the recycle bin, for instance).

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