I’ve only had two hours of sleep. I knew it was a mistake to have Diet Coke with breakfast, but I did it anyway. And the thing is, I am not at all tired.
And that’s the problem. Clearly I have entered a hypo-manic phase. I have these from time to time. I feel fine…. great, in fact. The fact that the sun is shining for the first time in a week probably has something to do with that.
Reminds me of the episode of Northern Exposure where Joel gets a case of midnight sun madness where he is super hyper and energetic as a result of experiencing the first nightless 24 hours of his life.
He goes around all chipper and chatty like he’s a toddler on a triple espesso until, as he was warned, he runs out of energy all of a sudden and falls asleep in the street.
And that’s how this shit tends to work for me. I will feel fine and dandy (though not as dandy as I would like) for a while and then I will run out of energy and sleep a LOT.
Fair enough. It all works out the same in the end. I will just borrow some wakefulness from the future and pay it off in installments.
Then again, I will have some time this afternoon to at least try to sleep. And these things are unpredictable. I might fall fast asleep once I finish my lunch (beef teriyaki donburi, yum!) and lie still for a while with some cool music on.
I hope so. That would be a lot better than waiting for this thing to crumble with no idea of when that will be. I would rather get it over with ASAP.
One amusing little thing about my most recent sushi adventure : when my food arrived, I was super hungry. So what is the first thing I grab after I put everything down?
Broccoli. I grabbed a broccoli out of the donburi. Not the beef, or the rice, or all that tasty sushi I ordered. Broccoli. For some reason, when I saw that broccoli, something in my mind said “YES. THAT. NOW. ” and I nabbed it and ate it and it tasted marvelous.
Presumably. I really needed some vitamin A and/or D.
Now I have never been a broccoli hater. Patient readers know that I was never forced to eat anything as a kid and as a result, I never developed a hatred for vegetables or other healthy type foods.
Broccoli wouldn’t exactly make it into the top twenty of my favorite foods list, but it’s fine. And chock full of vitamins, so it makes me FEEL healthy when I eat it.
In general, I love veggies. Carrots and celery especially. Sure, they don’t hit the magic reward button in your head as hard as some of our most delicious nutritional villains, but they still taste pretty darn good to me.
Except arugula. That shit’s nasty.
Fuck arugula, man. There, I’ve said it.
I will be back later on.
More thoughts on the whole what it means to have a high IQ thang.
For one thing, it means nobody wants to hear about your goddamned problems. There is a flaw in human social programming (the hardwired kind) that makes it hard to care about the problems of those we perceive as superior to us in some sense.
For instance, there are genuine problems that cause real suffering and pain that are unique to rich people. But nobody wants to hear about those because rich people are not a protected class and inspire jealously in others, and for most people, that cancels out their empathy almost entirely.
Nested within that is a very deep and potent dream we all share that money would solve all our problems. It’s a popular dream because it reassures us that our problems are solvable but places the blame on our lack of money and not ourselves.
And rich people are held hostage to that dream, in ways both obvious and subtle. They feel the pressure to be as happy as society expects them to be, and yet they are still mortal flawed humans, and this often cajuses them enormous frustration.
The real truth is that money doesn’t solve the important problems. You can’t buy real love or genuine friendship or the true admiration of your peers.
It can buy you status but it can’t buy the kind of respect a truly strong and noble person gets. It can give people a reason to come over to the mansion but it can’t make that reason be because people are interested in and appreciate you as a person. It cnas send the kids to the best schools but it can’t make them love you for it.
Looked at that way. rich people don’t have it all that much better than anyone else, and in some ways,. they have it worse.
And it’s the same with high IQ. Nobody wants to hear about the problems that come with a high IQ because they are too busy being jealous to listen. It confuses the hell out of our social programming to hear that those you think have it better than you have the same amount of problems you do. We want to beleive that those above us on whatever scale have it easy.
That way, our total lack of empathy for them is justified.
But I dohn’t buy it. I think everyone deserves the same care, understanding, and respect, no matter how we feel about their position relative to us in the social hierarchy, and that means caring for the rich – and the bright – every bit as much as we do the poor and the dim.
I have been a victim of this lack of empathy for those “above” you my whole life. I have repeatedly been the victim of the jealousy of others when I was doing nothing to hurt anyone except be myself.
IBut when you make people feel inferior, they take it out on you any chance they get even if you are doing nothing wrong.
So if my excellence makes you feel insecure, tough titties. Suck it up, buttercup, because that’s your problem, not mine.
And if you try to come at me, you better pack a fucking chainsaw.
no wonder so many people like me become bitter misanthropists!
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.