Dear Benedict,
Hey, friend. Just a warning before you delve into what I’m certain will be an all-over-the-map sort of missive – my thoughts are not very organized into the little cohesive set of files I prefer them to be. You might be wondering why I’m attempting to corral them into a letter to be seen by those daring enough to stop by the kasbah and use their valuable time reading them.
It really all comes down to this:
A writer’s gotta write.
And if we don’t flex that muscle, it gets all… angsty. And stubborn. And demanding.
Also, truth be told, when the thoughts in my funny little brain begin fighting for first dibs with the mic while arguing over who does the better karaoke version of Bon Jovi’s Living on a Prayer, I simply have to release them into the wild.
That’s what happens when you’re experiencing every sort of human emotion at the same time all the live long day.
Yep. Every last one. Except smug. And bored. Life is way too complex and exciting to be boring.
At last count, I believe all of my internal organs have spent a part of each day either twisted in knots or filled with juvenile butterflies fresh out of the cocoon and clutching their shiny new driving permits. It’s chaos over here, let me tell ya. A roller coaster ride that’s leaving me a little weak in the knees, in both the dreadful and the deliciously divine sort of ways.
It’s enough to make a person want to unscrew her noggin’, tuck it in a jar, and gently place it on a shelf where it can peacefully float for a month or two. If only I knew a kindly witch who could perform some sort of magical head-removing spell, one that wouldn’t require a visit from Sam and Dean Winchester to undo should it go awry.
Or perhaps if I had a molecule of witchcraftery in me, then I could perform such a beheading on my own without the need for a spellmaster or the Winchester boys.
And if I were powerful enough to remove and replace my head whenever I wanted, then surely I’d be powerful enough to make the world a better place for those I care about who are mired in their own pain, grief, and suffering.
Or maybe I’d be smart enough to fix what’s not right, in my life and in theirs.
Or maybe I’d be strong enough to carry the pain and suffering of those I care about for a while so they can have their own head-floating-in-a-jar moment of peace.
Or maybe I’d be clever enough to outwit my own demons of doubt.
Or maybe I’d possess the magical clarity to truly accept I can’t do it all, be it all.
And realize that I am enough.
Magically yours,
Tami
P.S. Speaking of enough, it’s finally time for your movies to start premiering. It’s a good thing two of them are coming out later this week. Just sayin’.
~*~
*Editor’s note: The views, ideas, and opinions expressed in the Letters from Benedict series are works of fiction and did not come from the actor himself. Obviously. This series is just my ridiculous way of expressing adoration for Mr. Cumberbatch and his work and is not intended to be taken at face value or seen as a true collaborative writing endeavor with him.
For other witchcraftery-related reading, be sure to check out these other posts from my fellow WanaFriday writing peeps:
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Liv Rancourt said:
That head-floating-in-a-jar-of-peace thing sounds divine. If you come up with the magical variation of abra-ca-dabra, please pass it along.
😉
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Tami Clayton said:
If I ever do, you’ll be one of the first I’ll let in on the secret.
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Elizabeth Fais said:
The head-floating-in-a-jar reminds me very much of the witch’s head that floats inside a crystal ball in the Haunted Mansion, in Disneyland (and Magic Kingdoms around the world). She’d be the first one to contact, since she’s mastered that power. 😉
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Tami Clayton said:
Thanks for the first lead in my search, Elizabeth. The witch at Disneyland has certainly figured out how to get her head to float. The question is, can she reattach it? Because I want my floating head to be a temporary thing. I have too many things I’d like to accomplish and having my head permanently in a jar would make that difficult. 😉
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Elizabeth Fais said:
That’s just her day-job, Tami. The Haunted Mansion witch has totally got the re-connecting her head thing down. 🙂
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Tami Clayton said:
Awesome. 🙂
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Gloria Richard said:
The wandering and random and chaotic and doubting mind is both the nemesis and the best friend of we creative, Tami.
Today? I choose not to put my head in a jar. It’s metaphorically been there too long. I’d suggest other places it might metaphorically have been, butt…<====Whoop! I did not intentionally add that extra T. [Cue Twilight Zone Theme Music]
I have not-so-fun tasks that have been niggling at me. They arrive at odd moments and noodle around in my noggin. Today, I choose to get those tasks completed. It’s embarrassing to admit that the sum of the minutes required to complete all of them is less than 180. I’ve spent more time avoiding them.
I so empathize with your inner care-taker. It took me a long time (and, I’m still imperfect in this area) to close the doors on the Gloria-Richard-Adopt-a-Problem Agency. The biggest challenge seems to be adopting moods, and declaring myself the keeper-of-the-key that unleashed the angst of others, and therefore the person responsible for fixing the problem.
I have more that enough to worry about when it comes to my own ups-and-downs; my own sanity and serenity and productivity.
I often need to reference the memo. The one that says God did not die and put me in charge.
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Tami Clayton said:
I hear ya, Gloria. While I know in my noggin’ that others are responsible for deciding on and then acting on better choices, my heart is not so logical and practical. Thanks for the reminder, though. Maybe if my heart hears it enough it will start listening.
I hope you accomplished your not-so-fun tasks today. And then I hope you did some these-are-totally-fun tasks right after that. 🙂
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Sherry Isaac said:
I used to think, if only I could remove my head–preferably pop off, screw cap is to reminiscent of Linda Blair–so that I could un-wrench the knots in my neck muscles.
Head in a jar floating peace is clearly an added bonus.
Begone, you demons of doubt!
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Tami Clayton said:
I think I’ll also go with the pop off head removal now that you’ve reference Linda Blair. And thanks pointing out the added bonus of working out the knots in the neck. To which I’d add, a silky smooth unclenching of the jaw. I figure if my head isn’t attached to the cable-like neck muscles, then maybe my jaw will gradually relax.
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Suzanne Stengl said:
I’m going to look for a nice jar…
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Tami Clayton said:
Thanks, Suzanne. Something clear, yet decorative and pretty would be good.
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Kim Griffin said:
The first thing I thought of when you mentioned heads in jars was a scene from season 2 of The Walking Dead, where the Governor has zombie heads in jars all lined up on his shelf in his private quarters.
But then Suzanne mentioned getting a nice jar, so as long as it’s pretty, that makes me feel a bit better 🙂
Make sure you have a re-attachment plan after your head’s peaceful rest though..
I love the way you handled the witch prompt and I hope your roller coaster ends soon 🙂
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Tami Clayton said:
Yes, I plan for the jar to be a pretty one and easily accessible for reattachment when I’m ready and well rested. (Ha!) Perhaps I should consider having a dog keep watch over my jar in case any zombies come my way. Thanks for the fair warning. 😉
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