Today was therapy day, which for the summer also means Adventures In Public Transit day for lil ol’ me.

Here’s the video evidence :

Not that anything all that bad (or all that good, for that matter) happened to me along the way. The worst thing mass transit ever does to me is be dull. I had my tablet with me though, and that works as a partial cure for bus boringness.

And when that didn’t work, I would just stare out the window at the passing scenery. All those houses full of people, each of whom have their own unique story and point of view, trying muddle through life and find the door that leads to happiness.

Or at least fun.

I have been thinking a lot about fun lately. One might think that someone who plays videos games as much as I do (hours and hours daily) would have all the fun he could stand, and you would be partly right.

I have a lot of fun playing video games. Otherwise, honestly, what’s the point? But it is a cold and lonely and above all stationary kind of fun.

It’s well suited to a depressed, isolated, shy person, but for the version of me that I am striving towards, it is just not enough. Life is too short to spend endless days merely diverting oneself. Video games may entertain but they do not enrich, educate, or enlighten.

In fact, it has occurred to me lately that I might be some sort of addict. Not a full blown addict who neglects everything else in order to play WoW 24/7 and who becomes a threat to himself and others.

No, I am a milder kind of addict, in that I have no problem tearing myself away from the games when there is something better to do.

It’s just that I worry that the time and energy I put into the games could be better spent actually going and looking for something better to do instead of always waiting for that something to come to you.

There’s a guy outside calling to his dog Phoebe, but I swear it sounds like he is just wandering around saying “BEEP BEEP” with various intonations.

Anyhow, I fear that video games are a crutch to me, and if I want to get better, I have to throw away the crutches and learn to walk on my own. It is so easy to just dip in to the endless world of video games at my fingertips via the Internet that it becomes seductive.

And like any addiction, it takes more from you than it can ever give back.

I am tired of just letting the days go by.

I want my life to mean something. I want to use the products and the power of my imagination and my talents to be my passport to the world outside this apartment. I want my brilliance to be recognized and rewarded by those in authority.

Or at least get something I have written published or produced.

And I am making progress in my quest to escape my own gravity well. I might not be ready to start blasting my work all over God’s creation in the hopes that someone, somewhere, will take an interest in it, but I am getting there.

My self-confidence improves daily. I feel like I am constantly reinvesting in myself. Or maybe it is more like compound interest. Every day, the balance increases, and that means tomorrow’s gains will be slightly bigger.

Hopefully, some marvelously quadratic function will take over at some point and my confidence will rise like a rocket into the clear blue sky.

But um, not to the point where I completely lose my mind and enter a state of demented mania where I think I am the saviour of mankind or something.

That is something I sincerely worry about, although said worry is probably baseless. It’s probably just my depression using its usual scare tactics to convince me that if I am not careful, I will go completely insane, with delusions of grandeur, and end up on a rooftop somewhere shouting, like a low rent Lawnmower Man, that I AM GOD HERE.

It really does feel that way sometimes, though. I fear that deep within my soul is a vast reservoir of untapped elitism just itching to get out. All my efforts at egalitarianism, all my deep desire to understand people as people, outside what society says about them, all the fruits of the conscious decision I made as a scared, bullied kid to reject elitism as a dark and dead end path, have not managed to erase the spectre of elitism from my soul.

It’s just suppressed its expression, and we all know that what is suppressed has more power over us than anything of which we are conscious because the suppressed emotions can operate in the blind spot we specifically created for it so that we could pretend it isn’t there.

So I confess : there is a part of me that wants to scream at people that they are all a bunch of fucking idiots and they should let someone with a functional frontal cortex run things before they fuck everything up for good.

You know, someone like me.

I think that one part of the sometimes heavy price we pay for our superior intellects. Sure, you see more than the average person, but that doesn’t do any good if nobody listens to you or believes you.

And it is particularly painful to know better and yet be unable to do anything about it. No wonder so many of my ilk retreat into cynicism and misanthropy.

If you can convince yourself that the sheep deserve whatever they get for being so stupid, maybe it won’t hurt so much to see them walk into the same walls over and over and over again.

But I have rejected cynicism, misanthropy, and elitism. I choose the humanist road, and while it is never easy, it is always the right path.

I will talk to you nice folks again tomorrow.