Happy Imbecile

I hold the belief that it is generally very bad to be a willful idiot.

Ignorance is toxic, and so to choose to stay ignorant is the epitome of human irresponsibility. As bad as pulling the trigger on another person, ignorance kills. Psychologically, spiritually and physically. It is deadly to one’s self and to others.

But laying ignorance aside, I also believe that it is sometimes good to be an idiot. There are types of idiocy that do no harm to others.  That are healthy for the soul. One such idiocy is the way we act with children.

Whether you’re a normal person or a humanoid tasked with the cruel mission of pretending to know how to do this whole human emotions thing like me, children (more specifically babies), usually elicit pretty strong reactions from people. You either are made super uncomfortable by them and want to stay as far away as possible from their drooling, babbling existences. Or, you are reduced to a cooing mess of squealing glee.

Surprisingly, I fall into the latter category.

Or maybe not so surprisingly. I’m a teacher by trade so obviously I have an affinity for children, but I don’t think my general temperament suggests as much.

I adore babies. 

Every time I come into contact with one, I am made more aware of that fact. It’s funny how much different I react to these humans, simply by virtue of them being smaller and more innocent. Their cluelessness rings of lack of life experience rather than willful ignorance or carelessness. For example,

inability to say my name because you lack knowledge of phonemes? Cute.

forgetting my name after the millionth time I’ve told you? Annoying.

inability to sit up on your own because your limbs are just so darn chubby and you lack balance? Precious.

sitting in a way that takes up a bunch of space even though there are clearly people in need of a place to sit? Rude.

Babies can get away with things that older humans just can’t. If a grown man threw up on me I’d probably punch them in the face. But when a baby does it, “Aw, it’s alright. The poor thing has indigestion.” I mean, even saliva, one of the most disgusting and bacteria-ridden substances in the human body, rendered endearing when it’s from a baby. Even a germophobe like me finds a way to rationalize my way out of it in the most irrational way possible. “No, no. It’s fine. It’s from a baby. Even though it’s seeped its way into most of my clothes and probably 70% of my hands’ surface area, I’m still clean. Babies don’t have germs.”

They’re manipulative sons of guns without even trying. 

“What’s that? You want to ruin my night of sleep in intervals of one hour because I don’t even know what since you have a clean diaper, I fed you one second ago, you’re not sick, and have a comfortable place to sleep? But yes, of course I’ll giggle with you in the morning when you smile after letting out a toot. Your body proportions are comedically stunted and you have that adorable fresh pampers smell.” 

If I think too hard on the things I get excited about when babies are around I want to get my head checked. For who else could I clap my hands and squawk in delight for recognizing that moving the left foot forward, must be what comes after moving the right one in order to travel across space?

It’s ridiculous. But they get me to do it.

I turn into a joyous buffoon every single time. And I thank them for it. It’s the kind of nonsensical idiocy I devolve into that makes the world seem a little brighter and a little less serious. Babies remind us that we were all blubbering morons at one point in time and the only real difference is that we’ve tricked ourselves into thinking we know more because we can chew food all by ourselves and stick our special parts into other people’s special places. Babies give us a chance to cheer ourselves on without knowing it’s us we’re cheering for. 


Tongue Tucking Disclaimers

Wow, would I never want to be in the public eye. 


Which, I know, is ironic, because here I am posting my thoughts for all to see.  But what I mean is, I’d never want to get to the point where I’m popular enough for people to start thinking they have the right to misinterpret and put a spin on everything I say.


These days no one has an opinion, but everyone is shouting loud enough to think they’re doing a good job making people believe they do. It’s the same with average everyman and celebrity alike.  It seems like especially with public figureheads, whether it be talk show host, YouTuber, or famous athlete, everybody speaks with a disclaimer tucked behind their tongue. 


It’s ridiculous.


“So here’s what I think…BUT I’m not actually saying that I necessarily think such and such, I’m just saying it’s a way to think.  But in the end who am I to tell you what to think? *insert nervous chuckling* Did I succeed in not offending anybody?


I think humanity as a whole has lost some fundamental anchor in themselves.  Everyone is turning to everyone else for affirmation that they’re saying and doing the right things.  Of course, it’s questionable that we ever had that security of conviction to begin with.  Every generation thinks they’re the generation when humanity will fall apart.


In any case, it’s come to the point where it seems like the only thing people feel comfortable talking about is the fact that straight, white males are privileged.  In fact, it’s even come to the point where that’s all some straight, white males are comfortable talking about.


“Oh boy.  Confound my privileged position in society, am I right? Heh, heh…Oh jeez.  I apologize for my existence.  Please don’t hurt me.”


Don’t get me wrong.  I appreciate the fact that long-standing social injustices are being examined and exposed for what they truly are.  I just don’t think it has to come to the point where everyone is so afraid of being the next person/group being ostracized for political incorrectness, that we stop stating anything with real certainty at all. 


“No opinion is the best opinion.  If I just feed off of others’ thoughts long and hard, my individuality will become blurred enough for it to be impossible for me to be attacked.  Mwhahaha!  I shall engage in my genius plan immediately!”


Oh, wait.  You lost your soul in the process, ya’ dummy.



Loner World Problems

As an introvert, I find that I really depend on the time that I spend reflecting alone each day. I rely on that time to replenish my store of energy.  It’s not like I don’t like people.  I do, really I do.  I find people interesting and on occasion refreshing, but after a while spent talking to people I always need a break to recharge my socialization battery in order to stay pleasant and engaged.

For example, crowds.  I have a love/hate relationship with them.  I find them kind of intriguing and entertaining to be in the midst of because it is the perfect atmosphere for people watching.  I love having the ability to blend in and watch people as they bustle by in their own little worlds.  It’s cool being able to catch snipits of people’s natural mannerisms in the open because they assume no one’s watching.  You’d be surprised at the things you see. (Haha. I sort of sound like a stalker.)

But, I also can’t stand to be in a crowd for too long.  While the atmosphere is ideal for people watching, it also has an irritatingly abrasive quality.  Shoving, and shouting, and idiotic statements.  Humans can be just as annoying as they are interesting.  As an introvert, I need the opportunity to step back and go, “Okay!  I’m done relating to human beings for a while!

And it’s not as if I think I’m just that much more interesting or tolerable.  I just find the time set apart calming and rejuvenating.  The time extroverts need to spend chatting and expressing and generally communing with others to feel at peace, I need to spend reading and reflecting and listening to music in some remote corner of the room to feel right.

It’s funny ’cause I’ve discovered that if I’m counting on having some part of my day carved out for some alone time and some change of plans suddenly eliminates that time slot, I start to feel a little loopy.  Even if it’s replaced by spending time with someone I really like or have missed seeing in a long time.

It’s like my brain is like, “‘Ya know, I like you and all, but I’ve already spent the allotted time talking to people today.  I’m mentally/emotionally tired.  Can we do this another time?  Or at least after I spend thirty minutes sipping on some tea and spacing out for a bit?”

Sometimes I don’t even realize why I’m feeling stressed out.  It might be late afternoon when I begin to feel jittery and high strung.  The day’s been pleasant and productive.  Why am I feeling so wonky?  I have to think about it for a space before I realize, “Oh, I’ve been amongst my fellow homo sapiens too long.  I need a break.”

Am I some form of hyper-introvert or do any of you sympathize?

I can’t do without some chill time.  What’s something that you can’t function without?