I just had a conversation with someone today which I have been meaning to have for a long time. We talked about our emotions and state of mind, and while I won’t get into all the measly details due at this moment, the conversation provided clarity — if not for a moment or an hour, I felt vilified in some way. I knew what I had to do once the conversation concluded, as it may be the only way to get out alive.
Life is full of choices: People have to decide what car to buy when seeing an endless sea of automobiles at the dealership; people must ask themselves, “Do I want the soup or the salad? It’s pretty warm out but not too humid, so maybe soup wouldn’t be too hot on this occasion…”; men have to figure out what tie goes well with their work suit, and females must not leave the house until their blouse matches their shoes. Basically, every choice a human being makes has an immediate impact on their life. It’s a simple cause-and-effect theory learned at a young age. If you have a problem, you should try to resolve it; if you put it aside, it will blow your brain into oblivion. See, that’s my issue. I have too many parasites floating in my fish tank and the colony seems to be slowly deteriorating.
Think of a supermarket … just walking around, aisle after aisle, seeing foods you would like to eat but for some reason pass over in favor of something else. The aisles have the foods which are prepared and shipped from other cities in this vast nation, ready to be consumed by the masses. But then you have the section where all the cured meats and various salads are prepared daily. (At least I hope that is the case.) That section is always off to the side, in a separate area away from all the processed, mass-produced drivel.
It’s a perfect metaphor for reality in terms of intellectualism and group think.
The fine meats are the creme de la creme of society, continuing to shock the foundation of our very existence with every morsel of aptitude which drips from their skulls. The processed foods are the human beings who possess a common IQ, those who get by in life by knowing what they want to know and making a good living out of it. Now, every intellectual is not as successful as the run-of-the-mill member of society — and this is the aspect which stands out to me, not because intellectuals are inherently smarter than the norm but because it does not correlate to achievement. Some people are good at some things and others not so much, this much is known. But in my experiences on this earth, I feel as though those I would consider intellectuals have struggled more in attaining success (financially) than the “other” people. Whether money determines success is a whole other argument meant for another day, and maybe I am speaking about myself in third person like a pompous asshole. Either way, I know what side of the street I stand on and attribute my goals and my failures to this distinctly different way of thinking. The intellectuals believe that the rest of society is so entrapped in their own lackadaisical lives that, in turn, life is passing them by; the “average” crowd, to put it lightly, think the so-called intellectuals are smoking too much reefer, reading too many novels about dystopia and wasting their time professing their ideologies on the United States “Drug War.” There is a societal rift among people not only in this country, but worldwide.
In the grandeur of a beautiful sunset, an intellectual and somebody else sees things differently. It’s the nature of our society, always has been. I just wish I could figure out why basic fundamentals are acted upon differently by different groups of people, but that’s part of the game of life: trying to figure out why things function and why certain people are estranged to the commonplace moments of daily activity.
I’ve still got a long, long way to go.