Post by Mikhael on Feb 25, 2005 19:58:17 GMT -5
Words words words I’d like to write a masterpiece, something beautiful and gentle and poignant and cutting and sweet and tragic and true. But there are no tragedies in my life, none but one, and that is life itself, and nothing worth the page to be printed on. I’ve come to realize in my very long eighteen years that things, however much we want them to, do not last forever. I do not say cannot, because, who knows? Maybe they can, but people have free will and abundant choices which they happily take and make, usually wrong, with disastrous results. And I suppose that’s the way it ought to be. Free will and all that. But I can still remember when I was hopeful, when I believed that I could grow up to be whatever I wanted (and I wanted above all things to be a golden eagle and was very disappointed when my parents broke the terrible news to me that whatever I want doesn’t include golden eagles), when I thought I could find a unicorn if I looked hard enough, when I believed that vows of friendship, spoken in ridiculous solemnity, would bind the lives and hearts of two people past life unto the very precipice of hell. I am now much wiser and far more worldly and I can confidently say that I’ve given up on becoming a golden eagle or finding my perfect reliable friend to see me through thick and thin. The unicorn search is still on, though not quite as actively, and while I have no leads as of yet, any that could be made known to me would be very welcome.
I am not normal, although in that I suppose I could be considered more normal than anyone else I know. By not normal I mean that I am something of an outcast minus the drama of actual ostracization. My lone wolfiness comes primarily from the fact that I cannot bring myself to talk to people without some form of encouragement, some form of very obvious encouragement (subtlety is not really my forte). Otherwise I sit in the back, alone, hold my head up, and try to act as though I don’t give a damn without pouting or appearing aggressive in any way. It used to bother me, and sometimes it still does, but not nearly as much. I have come to realize that people are different, even deep down where everyone was supposed to be the same, equally angry, caring, sarcastic and generally unpleasant. They’re different there too. Some people do not share the same mind frames as you or I, that is, equal parts depression, indifference, nervous concern and in-your-face-I-don’t-give-a-damn-and-why-don’t-we-make-something-of-it. I don’t know about these people. We can communicate as we speak the same basic language (although different dialects) but beyond that there could be a thousand double meanings that I would miss because their thought patterns are different and their tells are completely misleading. For example, laughing excessively over something I said that was “just so funny” and then turning abruptly and talking to someone else about something entirely different, turning back to write a phone number on my property and then stepping back out of this reality without a completed sentence to leave me stuttering with my mouth open like someone mentally subnormal and wondering what exactly just happened and what I said that was funny in my attempt at a serious political discussion. People are different. I have come to accept this as I have come to accept school lunches. I used to wonder from what planet they were shipped and what dangerous synthetic materials they could be made of but now I have matured into an open-minded and semi-reasonable almost-young-adult and I don’t ask. Or eat for that matter. When people bring it up (less enlightened individuals than myself) I just stare and wait for the surge of unhealthy curiosity to subside. Later I call the Thought Police and the problem gets cleared right up no questions asked.
But seriously, whatever. People are stupid. In the last six months this has become my motto, a mantra that I repeat to myself when I wake in the morning and before I sleep at night. It is truth, one of very few that I know, and for that I must cherish it and keep it, love and protect it, till death do us part. I’m not a cynic. I’m far too gullible for that, but I know that people are stupid. They can’t help it, the way they can’t help airplane crashes and armed conflicts. While people have free will and great intelligence individually, when they begin to interact in packs is where the trouble starts. People should just live in bubbles. They should interact face to face and independently. If you have a problem with another person, you should talk to them and duke it out if that seems appropriate. And if you want an army to do it for you, you ought to be laughed at excessively until you’re too small-feeling to do any more than creep home. And you should have the self-respect and the rationality to defend yourself in a debate, and to hell with society, and to hell with ambition for the sake of public reputation. And to hell with the whole damn thing. It’s not the public that counts, it’s the people who you cling to when the public shoves you into a corner. That’s all. Not so difficult really.
I am not normal, although in that I suppose I could be considered more normal than anyone else I know. By not normal I mean that I am something of an outcast minus the drama of actual ostracization. My lone wolfiness comes primarily from the fact that I cannot bring myself to talk to people without some form of encouragement, some form of very obvious encouragement (subtlety is not really my forte). Otherwise I sit in the back, alone, hold my head up, and try to act as though I don’t give a damn without pouting or appearing aggressive in any way. It used to bother me, and sometimes it still does, but not nearly as much. I have come to realize that people are different, even deep down where everyone was supposed to be the same, equally angry, caring, sarcastic and generally unpleasant. They’re different there too. Some people do not share the same mind frames as you or I, that is, equal parts depression, indifference, nervous concern and in-your-face-I-don’t-give-a-damn-and-why-don’t-we-make-something-of-it. I don’t know about these people. We can communicate as we speak the same basic language (although different dialects) but beyond that there could be a thousand double meanings that I would miss because their thought patterns are different and their tells are completely misleading. For example, laughing excessively over something I said that was “just so funny” and then turning abruptly and talking to someone else about something entirely different, turning back to write a phone number on my property and then stepping back out of this reality without a completed sentence to leave me stuttering with my mouth open like someone mentally subnormal and wondering what exactly just happened and what I said that was funny in my attempt at a serious political discussion. People are different. I have come to accept this as I have come to accept school lunches. I used to wonder from what planet they were shipped and what dangerous synthetic materials they could be made of but now I have matured into an open-minded and semi-reasonable almost-young-adult and I don’t ask. Or eat for that matter. When people bring it up (less enlightened individuals than myself) I just stare and wait for the surge of unhealthy curiosity to subside. Later I call the Thought Police and the problem gets cleared right up no questions asked.
But seriously, whatever. People are stupid. In the last six months this has become my motto, a mantra that I repeat to myself when I wake in the morning and before I sleep at night. It is truth, one of very few that I know, and for that I must cherish it and keep it, love and protect it, till death do us part. I’m not a cynic. I’m far too gullible for that, but I know that people are stupid. They can’t help it, the way they can’t help airplane crashes and armed conflicts. While people have free will and great intelligence individually, when they begin to interact in packs is where the trouble starts. People should just live in bubbles. They should interact face to face and independently. If you have a problem with another person, you should talk to them and duke it out if that seems appropriate. And if you want an army to do it for you, you ought to be laughed at excessively until you’re too small-feeling to do any more than creep home. And you should have the self-respect and the rationality to defend yourself in a debate, and to hell with society, and to hell with ambition for the sake of public reputation. And to hell with the whole damn thing. It’s not the public that counts, it’s the people who you cling to when the public shoves you into a corner. That’s all. Not so difficult really.
