Maybe You’re Not Smart Enough to Share Your Thoughts Out Loud
The past few weeks have been interestingly eye opening.
Thankfully, I’ve had access to smart people IRL and online who allow me to feel like I am sane and that depression and anxiety are consistent responses to having to participate in this silly ass world.
Because I still have a little Disney view of the world left in me, I spend futile amounts of time wondering why people are so illogical and about what will save us. I think about our being comfortably detrimental to ourselves. I’m stressed AF. So much so that I do stupid shit like wonder if right now is the years later repercussion for allowing our elected officials to cut everything worthwhile out of education. I find little bits of solace in knowing that I can’t be the only person throwing a “how?!” at everything.
We’ve run with this idea of being free thinkers so far that we allow ourselves to think a thought and make it fact even though most of us aren’t smart enough to do this. We pretend as though the ideas born out of each brain are equal as we coddle folks who celebrate not having a clue. Be they affirmed or cheated, they question nothing and are always good. Respectfully, I am not here for stupidity. I’m comfortable admitting out loud that, like most humans, I’m unable to tolerate everything. I want to profess forever that I am intolerant of comfortably stupid people and believe in shutting them down when they seek status, accolades, or attention. I imagine a beautiful world filled with people committed to hating on stupid individuals who refuse to get right. I feel a fleeting peace in thinking that I am not alone in this and that others would relate to idiots itching my skin with their willful and joyful ignorance. I wish fools were thoughtful enough to feel shamed into silently seeking information.
I wish a dummy would stop or that I could care less and disengage. Instead, I go on Facebook and engage in conversations with people who’d probably score within the shouldn’t be engaging smart people percentiles. Then, I trigger myself by playing with the dummies of the world. Maybe because they’re intriguing or because I’m hooked on not taking my self-care seriously. Possibly both.
So in dummy news, some people think a particular movie will be the catalyst for black liberation in spite of its writers’ ugly and unaccounted for past. There’s also a man running for president who publicly lies on his dick. And for the all the timeth time, forgotten about marginalized people who have little power when it comes to affecting change are being scapegoated as the cause of every problem known to (wo)man.
So I’ve learned from recent coverage and comments that certain opinions are just wrong. Locker room talk isn’t a thing. Speaking like a rapist in private is a thing. Believing you have forever access to vagina you were once allowed into isn’t a thing, but consent is. Telling people to ignore their own trauma and erasure for hypothetical greater goods in spite of how cruel a thing this is, is not a thing. However, shutting the fuck up and taking one’s own ass to the theater to repeat watch an inaccurate film is a thing. I guess dummies will do as dummies do.