Some intellectuals
have issues such as Asperger's Syndrome. This makes them rather focused
or anti-social, but they are very skilled at specific things. I don't
know about Kaku, specifically. It depends on what you mean by "mental
issue." Keep in mind this. Mental issues are defined around being "not
normal." Obviously, intellectual people are different. It might turn out
that if everyone was as smart as Einstein, they would diagnosis me and
you with a mental issue.
Most intellectuals can't connect with others because they are much more
intelligent. Talking to a five year old is cute for 10 minutes. Imagine
if everyone else was 5? You wouldn't really want to associate with them
either. Geniuses become isolated at a young age because they have little
interest in talking with others or people find them too smart to hang
around with. This changes confidence.
Expressing things into words is also difficult because they are often
presenting unique ideas. Some people are good at this. You read a famous
intellectual and understand them clearly. Others require you to read
summaries by others to understand. Some people just write down their own
thought process. Others try to make you understand.
Today, intellectuals try to explain their views in ways other people can
understand. So not only do they have to figure out how to explain
complicated and original ideas to begin with, they have to figure out
how to explain them to the general population.
Again, consider us the five year olds. Explain to us how gravity works.
Well, first I have to go read more on gravity to get a good
understanding. Next, I have to figure out how in the world I can do
justice to the concept without making the five year old confused.
Being intellect really sucks sometimes, and I'm not even half as smart
as someone like Einstein. I feel bad for those guys sometimes. That
goodness they end up meeting like-minds. Ever read about these guys?
Famous intellectuals always know each other. They are have social needs
like all of us, and they need to find others who satisfy those needs.
It's really fun to see how connected people are. I'm very tired and
should sleep. Good luck finding a good answer.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Friday, September 28, 2012
Amercian Children Becoming Less Creative
The best evidence that the Torrance Tests really do measure creative potential come from longitudinal research showing strong, statistically significant correlations between childhood scores on the TTCT and subsequent real-world achievements.[4] As the authors of one article commenting on these results put it, high scorers “tallied more books, dances, radio shows, art exhibits, software programs, advertising campaigns, hardware innovations, music compositions, public policies (written or implemented), leadership positions, invited lectures, and buildings designed” than did those who scored lower.[5]
In Kim’s words, the data indicate that “children have become less emotionally expressive, less energetic, less talkative and verbally expressive, less humorous, less imaginative, less unconventional, less lively and passionate, less perceptive, less apt to connect seemingly irrelevant things, less synthesizing, and less likely to see things from a different angle.”
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
The 6 Characteristics of Highly Creative People by Michelle L. Casto
http://www.howtoadvice.com/CreativePeople
1. Unconventional
Creative people do not feel the need to conform to society's standards. They often swim against the current and flow with their own way of thinking and living. They have original ideas that literally turn the world upside down and right-side out. Take for example, the 16th century Italian astronomer, Galileo, who proved that the earth revolved around the sun (instead of the other way around), which was revolutionary in his time.
2. Individualistic
Creative people want to find out what the truth is, and they have a strong need to decide for themselves what works and what does not. Often they are ahead of their time, and much of their work is appreciated/acknowledged after they are dead and gone. Many writers are famous for marching to the tune of their own drum, such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, who wrote the book, Self-Reliance, and Robert Frost who penned, "two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less-traveled."
3. Inventive
Creative people live in the world of ideas, and don't always have the best interpersonal skills. Because they are so highly intelligent, and live in the realm of possibility, they are constantly coming up with bright ideas. They also take notice of what is missing in the world and/or what could be improved. Take for instance, Thomas Edison, who invented hundreds of things in his time, his most famous invention being the light bulb. He saw that there was darkness and then created light.
4. Driven
Creative people cannot "not do something"—they are almost compulsive until they can bring their internal vision into fruition. They have that "fire in their belly"---a passion to contribute to the beauty and betterment of the world. Because of their high drive, they can produce a lot in a relative short amount of time. Talk about drive---the material girl herself, Madonna, has not let public praise or criticism stop her from being a super star. She is a modern day Diva, multi-talented as a singer, dancer, and actress who has released hundreds of songs, albums, videos, movies, books--- all the while reinventing herself as someone new.
5.Visionary
Creative people have a guiding vision in their head, heart, and soul that they are often called to bring to life. Who else but Michelangelo could look at a large piece of marble and "chip away at everything that wasn't David?" According to him, "I saw an angel in the marble and carved until I set him free." One of his best-known works is the immense ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, which took him three years to complete, where he often had to work upside down for hours at a time. If you ever have seen any of his work, you can easily see that it is a vision to behold.
6. Intuitive
Creative people are very in touch with their inner selves. They pay attention to the signs, synchronicities, symbols around them, and make use of that information in their work. They often act as a channel, where ideas and inspiration come from a higher plane. They allow the work to guide them to where it needs to go. The work clearly originates in their soul, not from their ego. Talk about ideas coming from out of the blue, remember how the scientist, Isaac Newton "discovered" gravity? He was sitting under a tree and an apple fell on his head! Had he not made a connection with his intuitive nature, he would have missed a major theory about the world we live in!
1. Unconventional
Creative people do not feel the need to conform to society's standards. They often swim against the current and flow with their own way of thinking and living. They have original ideas that literally turn the world upside down and right-side out. Take for example, the 16th century Italian astronomer, Galileo, who proved that the earth revolved around the sun (instead of the other way around), which was revolutionary in his time.
2. Individualistic
Creative people want to find out what the truth is, and they have a strong need to decide for themselves what works and what does not. Often they are ahead of their time, and much of their work is appreciated/acknowledged after they are dead and gone. Many writers are famous for marching to the tune of their own drum, such as Ralph Waldo Emerson, who wrote the book, Self-Reliance, and Robert Frost who penned, "two roads diverged in a wood, and I took the one less-traveled."
3. Inventive
Creative people live in the world of ideas, and don't always have the best interpersonal skills. Because they are so highly intelligent, and live in the realm of possibility, they are constantly coming up with bright ideas. They also take notice of what is missing in the world and/or what could be improved. Take for instance, Thomas Edison, who invented hundreds of things in his time, his most famous invention being the light bulb. He saw that there was darkness and then created light.
4. Driven
Creative people cannot "not do something"—they are almost compulsive until they can bring their internal vision into fruition. They have that "fire in their belly"---a passion to contribute to the beauty and betterment of the world. Because of their high drive, they can produce a lot in a relative short amount of time. Talk about drive---the material girl herself, Madonna, has not let public praise or criticism stop her from being a super star. She is a modern day Diva, multi-talented as a singer, dancer, and actress who has released hundreds of songs, albums, videos, movies, books--- all the while reinventing herself as someone new.
5.Visionary
Creative people have a guiding vision in their head, heart, and soul that they are often called to bring to life. Who else but Michelangelo could look at a large piece of marble and "chip away at everything that wasn't David?" According to him, "I saw an angel in the marble and carved until I set him free." One of his best-known works is the immense ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, which took him three years to complete, where he often had to work upside down for hours at a time. If you ever have seen any of his work, you can easily see that it is a vision to behold.
6. Intuitive
Creative people are very in touch with their inner selves. They pay attention to the signs, synchronicities, symbols around them, and make use of that information in their work. They often act as a channel, where ideas and inspiration come from a higher plane. They allow the work to guide them to where it needs to go. The work clearly originates in their soul, not from their ego. Talk about ideas coming from out of the blue, remember how the scientist, Isaac Newton "discovered" gravity? He was sitting under a tree and an apple fell on his head! Had he not made a connection with his intuitive nature, he would have missed a major theory about the world we live in!
"To create, sometimes you must rebel."
Creative people have a strong need to express more of who you really are
and often have to fight for that right. The character Isabelle in the
movie, Fire and Ice, has a great outlook on what it means to be
creative, she says, "To create, sometimes you must rebel."
Constraints can also determine the style and technique
Every art
form has it’s own set of rules that it follows, setting it apart from
the rest. For instance, a sonnet consists of 14 lines written in iambic
pentameter and must follow one of several standard rhyming schemes.
These are the rules of the game when it comes to writing a sonnet. As a
reader or critic you know a sonnet is good by how well it copes with
these constraints. Whereas a writer will use the limitations of a sonnet
to challenge themselves to greater poetic heights by channeling their
inspiration into a difficult mold.
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Putting Boundaries to Work
["Rules are obstacles to creativity"] is probably the biggest myth that causes people to lash out against the rules. The problem is that this myth is based upon a false assumption. People like to believe that a world of infinite choices is more conducive to creativity than a world of finite choices. Essentially, the more choices available, the more chance for creative thought.
Unfortunately, scientific exploration into the means of creative thought has proven this not to be true. Testing has shown that restrictions actually aid creative thought. How is this possible? The answer rests in the human mind. It turns out that the mind isn’t good at completely open-ended choices. When faced with total freedom of options the brain retreats to known pathways. It simply repeats what worked last time it was in this situation.
creativity (Photo credit: Sean MacEntee)
Whether or not you are someone who is typically comfortable living in a more analytical space of your mind, it is uncanny how the imposition of boundaries suddenly makes creative solutions spring to life. In fact, manipulating those boundaries can often be a way to stir the pot of your creativity. Try this process with any creative task:
- Determine your goal (eg. “draw a picture”, “write a song”, “cook dinner”)
- Set boundaries or constraints (eg. limited color palette, committing some random line or shape to paper first, choosing a musical key, picking themed ingredients or seeing what’s available)
- Ask yourself “What do I need to do next to accomplish my goal within those boundaries?”
- Repeat steps 2-3 as necessary, changing the boundaries and seeing what other solutions your mind comes up with.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
"the lack of boundaries does not liberate, it enslaves..."
“When forced to work within a strict framework the imagination is taxed to its utmost – and will produce its richest ideas. Given total freedom the work is likely to sprawl."
Drawing of T. S. Eliot by Simon Fieldhouse. Deutsch: T. S. Eliot, gezeichnet von Simon Fieldhouse. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
— T.S. Eliot
"True freedom doesn't lie in the maximization of choice, but, ironically, is most easily found in a life where there is little choice."
Cereal Aisle (Photo credit: Rex Roof)
— Steve Hagen
No one likes the idea of restrictions or of “no choice,” of course. Having no options and no choices can certainly be a bondage, but choices — too many choices — can be a bondage as well. Too many choices — options, features, functions, etc. — can become a bondage that slows creativity. Choices are great, but many of us (me included) obsess about the pursuit of obtaining more and more choices.
Friday, September 21, 2012
Jack White on Restiction & Creativity
2. Jack White: We All Need a Box (2:21)
The White Stripes frontman and former upholsterer talks about putting constraints on himself to spur his creativity. In the documentary Under Great White Northern Lights, White's take on music is interwoven with concert footage of the band's tour of Canada. Jack White on Restiction & Creativity
Force yourself. Deadlines make you creative.
The White Stripes frontman and former upholsterer talks about putting constraints on himself to spur his creativity. In the documentary Under Great White Northern Lights, White's take on music is interwoven with concert footage of the band's tour of Canada. Jack White on Restiction & Creativity
Force yourself. Deadlines make you creative.
disadvantage of being smart
Actually, less intelligent people are better at doing most things.
evolution equipped humans with solutions for a whole range of problems of survival and reproduction. All they had to do was to behave in the ways in which evolution had designed them to behave—eat food that tastes good, have sex with the most attractive mates.
General intelligence is very important in modern life because our environment is almost entirely evolutionarily novel. Most of the problems that we have to solve today—how to excel in school, how to find jobs, how to do virtually everything on a computer—are evolutionarily novel. So intelligent people do well in almost every sphere of modern life, except for the most important things, like how to find a mate, how to raise a child, how to make friends. Intelligence does not confer any advantage for solving all the evolutionarily familiar problems that our ancestors encountered. More intelligent people do not have any advantage in finding mates and often have disadvantages.
General intelligence evolved to solve evolutionarily novel problems, so intelligent people are more likely to acquire and espouse evolutionarily novel preferences and values. They are more likely to recognise and develop tastes for things that our ancestors did not have 100,000 years ago. For example, more intelligent people are more likely to be left-wing liberals because our ancestors were “conservative” by the contemporary American definition—they only cared about the well-being of their friends and family. They are more likely to be atheist because the preferred theory in evolutionary psychology is that humans are designed to believe in God.
Humans appear to be designed to be paranoid; they are designed to see intentional agents behind natural phenomena. This is because making the mistake of thinking that a natural event has an intentional agent behind it is less potentially costly than being oblivious and thinking that an intentional event, like someone trying to kill you, has a coincidental cause. The paranoid outlive the oblivious. Belief in God may be a consequence of this tendency. Intelligent people are more likely to be nocturnal because humans are designed to wake up when the sun comes up and go to sleep when the sun goes down. They are more likely to be homosexual, because humans are evolutionarily designed to reproduce heterosexually. They are more likely to enjoy instrumental music because music in its evolutionary origin was vocal, and they are more likely to consume alcohol, cigarettes and drugs because all of these substances are evolutionarily novel.
Some people suggest that more intelligent people think too much and therefore need alcohol to stop thinking, but that's not my argument. My point is that the human consumption of alcohol, tobacco and psychoactive drugs is a relatively new phenomenon. Both the American and British population data (nationally representative samples of Americans and Brits) show that more intelligent people consume more alcohol more frequently.
Would you rather be a good brain surgeon or a good parent? Would you rather be a good corporate executive or a good friend? More intelligent people don't always make good parents or friends. Intelligent women make the worst kind of parents, simply because they are less likely to become parents in the first place. There is also some evidence that children of more intelligent women are more likely to suffer from health and behavioural problems, probably due to the fact that they tend to have children later.
Why?
Because reproductive success is the ultimate goal of all living organisms, so intelligent women are more likely to go against such evolutionary design. My theory would also predict that intelligent men should be less likely to become parents, but data do not confirm that. Some suggest that women prefer to have children with more intelligent men, but the data contradict this too. Men's income or education has no effect on their likelihood of becoming parents. Intelligence doesn't allow us to do better what we are designed by evolution to do. Saint Exupery writes; “Voici mon secret. Il est très simple: on ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essential est invisible pour les yeux.”
evolution equipped humans with solutions for a whole range of problems of survival and reproduction. All they had to do was to behave in the ways in which evolution had designed them to behave—eat food that tastes good, have sex with the most attractive mates.
General intelligence is very important in modern life because our environment is almost entirely evolutionarily novel. Most of the problems that we have to solve today—how to excel in school, how to find jobs, how to do virtually everything on a computer—are evolutionarily novel. So intelligent people do well in almost every sphere of modern life, except for the most important things, like how to find a mate, how to raise a child, how to make friends. Intelligence does not confer any advantage for solving all the evolutionarily familiar problems that our ancestors encountered. More intelligent people do not have any advantage in finding mates and often have disadvantages.
General intelligence evolved to solve evolutionarily novel problems, so intelligent people are more likely to acquire and espouse evolutionarily novel preferences and values. They are more likely to recognise and develop tastes for things that our ancestors did not have 100,000 years ago. For example, more intelligent people are more likely to be left-wing liberals because our ancestors were “conservative” by the contemporary American definition—they only cared about the well-being of their friends and family. They are more likely to be atheist because the preferred theory in evolutionary psychology is that humans are designed to believe in God.
Humans appear to be designed to be paranoid; they are designed to see intentional agents behind natural phenomena. This is because making the mistake of thinking that a natural event has an intentional agent behind it is less potentially costly than being oblivious and thinking that an intentional event, like someone trying to kill you, has a coincidental cause. The paranoid outlive the oblivious. Belief in God may be a consequence of this tendency. Intelligent people are more likely to be nocturnal because humans are designed to wake up when the sun comes up and go to sleep when the sun goes down. They are more likely to be homosexual, because humans are evolutionarily designed to reproduce heterosexually. They are more likely to enjoy instrumental music because music in its evolutionary origin was vocal, and they are more likely to consume alcohol, cigarettes and drugs because all of these substances are evolutionarily novel.
Some people suggest that more intelligent people think too much and therefore need alcohol to stop thinking, but that's not my argument. My point is that the human consumption of alcohol, tobacco and psychoactive drugs is a relatively new phenomenon. Both the American and British population data (nationally representative samples of Americans and Brits) show that more intelligent people consume more alcohol more frequently.
Would you rather be a good brain surgeon or a good parent? Would you rather be a good corporate executive or a good friend? More intelligent people don't always make good parents or friends. Intelligent women make the worst kind of parents, simply because they are less likely to become parents in the first place. There is also some evidence that children of more intelligent women are more likely to suffer from health and behavioural problems, probably due to the fact that they tend to have children later.
Why?
Because reproductive success is the ultimate goal of all living organisms, so intelligent women are more likely to go against such evolutionary design. My theory would also predict that intelligent men should be less likely to become parents, but data do not confirm that. Some suggest that women prefer to have children with more intelligent men, but the data contradict this too. Men's income or education has no effect on their likelihood of becoming parents. Intelligence doesn't allow us to do better what we are designed by evolution to do. Saint Exupery writes; “Voici mon secret. Il est très simple: on ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essential est invisible pour les yeux.”
Gene Expression: Intercourse and Intelligence
Gene Expression: Intercourse and Intelligence
One reason we might guess that smarter people in high school, or in more challenging colleges or majors, delay their sexual debuts is because they are delaying gratification in expectation of future reward. Sexual behavior (or at least the investment needed to procure a partner or sustain one) may compete with time/resources required for other goals, and intelligent people may have more demanding goals. James Watson even hinted at this in a recent Esquire magazine piece:
While sex may not be marriage, it may still require effort that intelligent people prefer to invest elsewhere. This would fit Aldus Huxley's alleged definition of an intellectual as a person who's found one thing that's more interesting than sex.
Another idea is that smarter people are more risk averse, and delaying these activities is a byproduct of enhanced concerns about unwanted pregnancy and disease. While not avoiding sexual behaviors, per se, they are just less likely to seek it out or consent to it for fear of the potential consequences.
Another idea is that smarter people are more religious or more ethically conservative, and are trying harder to wait for marriage to have sex.
Another idea, consistent with popular media portrayals of geeks and nerds (males at least), is that intelligent people actually want to have sex, but are simply less likely or unable to obtain willing partners because they are disproportionately viewed as unattractive or undesirable as partners.
Another idea is that intelligent people have lower general sex drives. This shouldn't be confused with the first theory, where their sex drives would be normal and they have greater self-restraint.
Not only do intelligent people have a delayed onset of sexual behavior, Half Sigma found that they also have a lower number of premarital sex partners throughout adulthood (18-39). While this is consistent with the above theory that high IQ people are more religious and conservative, this is, of course, not true. Religiousness correlates with lower IQ, and as HS shows in the same post, intelligent people were also more likely to say that premarital sex was not immoral. (Leaving those who did think it was immoral to participate in the bulk of it!) Most of the other theories are still consistent with this finding though.
Perhaps more revealing, HS, also showed that intelligence correlates with less sex within marriage for the same age range. While still consistent with pregnancy fears and competing interests, lower sex drive seems like a better fit. In fact another revealing finding from the Counterpoint survey was that while 95% of US men and 70% of women masturbate, this number is only 68% of men and 20% of women at MIT!
Also the idea that more intelligent people are too busy for the opposite sex not just in 7th grade to college, but throughout adulthood and for their own spouse, seems unrealistic. In fact the GSS also shows (PDF) that smarter people spend more time socializing with their friends, indicating their hours aren't spent as uniquely isolated and narrowly channeled as the theory would require.
But lower sex drive and anxiety about sex's consequences can't be the whole story either. Half Sigma also showed that the smartest men in the GSS (approx. IQ >120) were also more likely to visit a prostitute. (Hardly indicative of cautiousness) This may suggest intelligent men are less able to find willing sex partners. Are smart men less attractive to women? Perhaps in some ways. For instance HS found that smart men were less likely to be athletic, and this paper shows, unathletic men and women have fewer sex partners. Athletic men, with more willing sexual partners are also less likely to visit a prostitute. Athletic activity gives men more masculine bodies, which are more attractive to women. A more masculine physique correlates with (PDF) an increased number of sex partners.
So intelligent people have lower libidos and less masculine physiques. What hormone is responsible for both sex drive and masculine builds? That's right: testosterone.
And two new papers suggest that testosterone may depress IQ. One team found that salivary testosterone levels were lower for preadolescent boys with IQs above 130 and below 70. (the same two groups most likely to be virgins in adolescence)
One reason we might guess that smarter people in high school, or in more challenging colleges or majors, delay their sexual debuts is because they are delaying gratification in expectation of future reward. Sexual behavior (or at least the investment needed to procure a partner or sustain one) may compete with time/resources required for other goals, and intelligent people may have more demanding goals. James Watson even hinted at this in a recent Esquire magazine piece:
If I had been married earlier in life, I wouldn't have seen the double helix. I would have been taking care of the kids on Saturday. On the other hand, I was lonely a lot of the time.
While sex may not be marriage, it may still require effort that intelligent people prefer to invest elsewhere. This would fit Aldus Huxley's alleged definition of an intellectual as a person who's found one thing that's more interesting than sex.
Another idea is that smarter people are more risk averse, and delaying these activities is a byproduct of enhanced concerns about unwanted pregnancy and disease. While not avoiding sexual behaviors, per se, they are just less likely to seek it out or consent to it for fear of the potential consequences.
Another idea is that smarter people are more religious or more ethically conservative, and are trying harder to wait for marriage to have sex.
Another idea, consistent with popular media portrayals of geeks and nerds (males at least), is that intelligent people actually want to have sex, but are simply less likely or unable to obtain willing partners because they are disproportionately viewed as unattractive or undesirable as partners.
Another idea is that intelligent people have lower general sex drives. This shouldn't be confused with the first theory, where their sex drives would be normal and they have greater self-restraint.
Not only do intelligent people have a delayed onset of sexual behavior, Half Sigma found that they also have a lower number of premarital sex partners throughout adulthood (18-39). While this is consistent with the above theory that high IQ people are more religious and conservative, this is, of course, not true. Religiousness correlates with lower IQ, and as HS shows in the same post, intelligent people were also more likely to say that premarital sex was not immoral. (Leaving those who did think it was immoral to participate in the bulk of it!) Most of the other theories are still consistent with this finding though.
Perhaps more revealing, HS, also showed that intelligence correlates with less sex within marriage for the same age range. While still consistent with pregnancy fears and competing interests, lower sex drive seems like a better fit. In fact another revealing finding from the Counterpoint survey was that while 95% of US men and 70% of women masturbate, this number is only 68% of men and 20% of women at MIT!
Also the idea that more intelligent people are too busy for the opposite sex not just in 7th grade to college, but throughout adulthood and for their own spouse, seems unrealistic. In fact the GSS also shows (PDF) that smarter people spend more time socializing with their friends, indicating their hours aren't spent as uniquely isolated and narrowly channeled as the theory would require.
But lower sex drive and anxiety about sex's consequences can't be the whole story either. Half Sigma also showed that the smartest men in the GSS (approx. IQ >120) were also more likely to visit a prostitute. (Hardly indicative of cautiousness) This may suggest intelligent men are less able to find willing sex partners. Are smart men less attractive to women? Perhaps in some ways. For instance HS found that smart men were less likely to be athletic, and this paper shows, unathletic men and women have fewer sex partners. Athletic men, with more willing sexual partners are also less likely to visit a prostitute. Athletic activity gives men more masculine bodies, which are more attractive to women. A more masculine physique correlates with (PDF) an increased number of sex partners.
So intelligent people have lower libidos and less masculine physiques. What hormone is responsible for both sex drive and masculine builds? That's right: testosterone.
And two new papers suggest that testosterone may depress IQ. One team found that salivary testosterone levels were lower for preadolescent boys with IQs above 130 and below 70. (the same two groups most likely to be virgins in adolescence)
Do really intelligent, creative people have a hard time living within the majority?
Are they often misunderstood and seen as an anomaly to society and appear anti-social and aloof?
by Sam Bickles
on January 22nd, 2008
Intelligent people are the enemy.
Never trust a creative person.
You never know what an independent, self-sufficient, free person is going to do next.
You never know what an independent, self-sufficient, free person is going to do next.
by Athrael
on January 22nd, 2008
Yes.
No.
Most often I suppose.
The hard part of being creative and intelligent is always having to lower oneself to the intelligence around one.
That can be very frustrating. Imagine being the land of the blind and you can see everything and nobody else can, after a while you might be willing to gouge your own eyes out instead of struggling to convey what you SEE to everyone else.
Or if that is not possible, then a very real distancing yourself from the rest of the blind would take place.
Many creative/intelligent people purposefully (albeit unconsciously) disengage from the rest of society, pursue their own muse as it were and try not to step on the toes of those who happen to be around them.
This is seen by outsiders as being "antisocial" which lends itself to further problems and frustrations.
No.
Most often I suppose.
The hard part of being creative and intelligent is always having to lower oneself to the intelligence around one.
That can be very frustrating. Imagine being the land of the blind and you can see everything and nobody else can, after a while you might be willing to gouge your own eyes out instead of struggling to convey what you SEE to everyone else.
Or if that is not possible, then a very real distancing yourself from the rest of the blind would take place.
Many creative/intelligent people purposefully (albeit unconsciously) disengage from the rest of society, pursue their own muse as it were and try not to step on the toes of those who happen to be around them.
This is seen by outsiders as being "antisocial" which lends itself to further problems and frustrations.
by MRSHINYSHOES
on January 22nd, 2008
I think people who
are highly creative and intelligent have a hard time fitting into the
"normal" population. Complicating this is that they often have complex
personalities, and they are perceived by average people as being
socially awkward, which they may well be. But the important thing to
remember is these highly creative and intelligent people are all
individuals, and even within this group you will have great variations,
some who act just like "normal" people and some who get along well with
the masses.
Why Being Attracted to Smarter Men Is the Biggest Reason You’re Single
Why Being Attracted to Smarter Men Is the Biggest Reason You’re Single
“I can’t help what I’m attracted to!”
If I had a dollar for the number of women who have said that to me, well, let’s just say I’d be writing this from Tahiti, not Los Angeles.
And I can’t disagree with you: attraction is NOT a choice.
Yet if the very thing you’re attracted to never leads to the relationship of your dreams, don’t you think it may be wise to make some adjustments?
I think so.
You’d make adjustments if you didn’t feel good about your body on January 1st.
You’d make adjustments if you were only looking for jobs on Monster.com and it never got you a job.
You’d make adjustments if you alienated your co-workers and wanted to feel better from 9-5 every day.
We’re constantly making adjustments in life.
Except in one arena.
And a big reason you struggle to connect with men is because you’re so bright.
I hear ya.
Like many of you, I’m a bit of an intellectual snob. I read voraciously. I like to discuss weighty issues. I know a little bit about a lot and can pretty much hold my own in any cocktail party conversation.
You want to know something else about me?
I’m a know-it-all.
I’m difficult.
I’m moody.
I’m opinionated as hell.
I’m a workaholic.
I’m an egomaniac.
I always want things my way.
Now before you decide that you hate me, I’d like you to consider two things:
First, does that description remind you of any of the men you’ve dated in the past?
If so, it shouldn’t be much of a surprise.
That’s the thing about really smart guys. They live in their heads. They’re somewhat tortured. They know what they’re worth. They have enough information and ammunition to be impossible to argue with. They can be endlessly fascinating and even more frustrating.
You’ve seen this yourself MANY times.
And yet you still say you want a man who is smarter than you are.
Hmmm…
“I can’t help what I’m attracted to!”
If I had a dollar for the number of women who have said that to me, well, let’s just say I’d be writing this from Tahiti, not Los Angeles.
And I can’t disagree with you: attraction is NOT a choice.
Yet if the very thing you’re attracted to never leads to the relationship of your dreams, don’t you think it may be wise to make some adjustments?
I think so.
You’d make adjustments if you didn’t feel good about your body on January 1st.
You’d make adjustments if you were only looking for jobs on Monster.com and it never got you a job.
You’d make adjustments if you alienated your co-workers and wanted to feel better from 9-5 every day.
We’re constantly making adjustments in life.
Except in one arena.
You’d make adjustments if you didn’t feel good about your body on January 1st.Should it be any news that it’s the one arena in which you struggle the most?
And a big reason you struggle to connect with men is because you’re so bright.
I hear ya.
Like many of you, I’m a bit of an intellectual snob. I read voraciously. I like to discuss weighty issues. I know a little bit about a lot and can pretty much hold my own in any cocktail party conversation.
You want to know something else about me?
I’m a know-it-all.
I’m difficult.
I’m moody.
I’m opinionated as hell.
I’m a workaholic.
I’m an egomaniac.
I always want things my way.
Now before you decide that you hate me, I’d like you to consider two things:
First, does that description remind you of any of the men you’ve dated in the past?
If so, it shouldn’t be much of a surprise.
That’s the thing about really smart guys. They live in their heads. They’re somewhat tortured. They know what they’re worth. They have enough information and ammunition to be impossible to argue with. They can be endlessly fascinating and even more frustrating.
You’ve seen this yourself MANY times.
And yet you still say you want a man who is smarter than you are.
Hmmm…
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Not letting people in
by SaraShaw » Fri Jun 29, 2012 10:04 am For instance... I have a person who runs errands for me once per week. She is a friend of a friend (by friends I mean people I know and talk to me but wouldn't lift a finger for me if I need them). She does a great job but one time she offered to have her boyfriend redo my bathroom --(presumably at a discount) I never called him. I just thought that was a bad idea. What if I didn't like it? But I just didn't like the idea of her being that involved in my life. She did get upset by this.
Then I have a real estate agent. She is a nice lady but she kind of wants to be my friend I guess... but I don't want to be her's. I picked her because she is nice but she found out I was going on vacation and offered to watch my kitty. I was like um.. no. Your my real estate agent. I told her I had already gotten a pet sitter. Again that seems like a bad idea. If she messes up I would lose my real estate agent. She also wants to go to open houses with me... and I keep ditching her. What if I hate the place? She says that is her job to do that, but I know her commission will be tiny so I would feel horrible to drag her around like that. I can do open houses by myself... but I swear she wants to go with me because she has no friends and needs something to do. I just don't want her in my life that way. She isn't my friend. She is my real estate agent. I need her to stay that.
My errand lady also offered to pet sit but... I said no because I had the sitter already -- but really it was because I didn't want her into my life in more than one capacity.
I know, this is exactly how you make friends. Open your life to people and trust them completely.... but I am not like that. I barely let people in and if I do, it is in a limited focused capacity so they can't hurt me that much. This is a problem as other people see it as a rejection when I only want them in my life in a limited capacity.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Friday, September 14, 2012
THE AFFAIR
Sally had hired a detective to follow
Stephen, her husband. She had suspected for some time now that
Stephen was having an AFFAIR. He would leave the house in his quiet
way like he always left but some days he would come back happy. An
odd smile of happiness that bothered Sally for she had not been happy
for a very long time. Yes she was married, had a nice job, had a
great house, had a great kids, and for a long time she figured she
had a great husband. She was content. But Stephen on the other hand
had always been a dreamer that had to give up his dreams to live in
the real world of relationships and marriange and mortgages and
babies and bills and goals. He gave up his childish ways upon
Sally's requiest without much of a moan becauxe he loved her and he
wanted her to be happy.
So Sally hired this guy, Sam. He was a
well known private investigator that was affordable yet seemed to
have a good reputation for not screwing people over like other
private detectives. He came wel recommended from several of Sally's
freinds who had caught their husbands cheating.
Catch the scoundrel, the dirty louse
sounds like he getting some tail on the side her freinds told her.
He sounds like he done with you Sally you better hire Sam and see
what Stephen is up too.
This did not sit too well with Sally at
first for she thought her life was perfect and to realize that
something might be wrong well it kind of scared her a bit. What if
Stephen was cheating on her what would she do then. Would she
divorce him, woud she confront the other woman or worse yet what if
Stephen was cheatiing on her with a man. She cringed at the thought
of Stephen huched over another naked man. Still there was that time
when they were dating when Stephen was in a rock band and he was
drunk and he stripped down to his underwear along with the other band
members and he and the guitar player made out on stage. But that was
his advant garde stage. He said the Chilli Peppers had done it and
he wanted to do it too. That this little shit town had to wake up
because there was this great awesome world out there just waiting for
PINK FUNK to make it big. He said he was going to change the world
with this music.
Still in the twenty two years that they
have been married Stephen has never kissed another man. And he
always performed great in bed never had a problem with keep the flag
pole high.
Sally looked around the house her
perfect little house. Sam was coming over to show her what he'd
found. She didn't want to know but she really wanted to know. She
saw an episode of Oprah one time where women kept silent about their
cheating wives. Everything in the house was in order, perfect.
Everything in its place and a place for everything.
Sally sat in her shadowy house looking
out the window sitting tightly on the edege of the chouse in her
usual perfect posture.
Sam came over, knocked once then
checked the door to see if it was open and it was. He opned the
door and called for Sally
"Sally, its Sam." From the
door he looked around the corner and saw Sally sitting on the couch
motionless. She was wearing a black dress and black veil over face.
She had a handkerchife that was wiping away the watery mascara on her
face.
"Sam, I don't think I want to
know."
"I think you'll be happier
knowing. Things are not always as bad as they seem. Infact I have
some good news for you." Sam took out his fancy phone. "I
got some photos and some video I want you to see. I followed Stpehn
all over town. It salways seemed that he was going to meet someone
but when ever I got there there was no one but him. So I figured
maybe he was on to me or just really clever in all this. Let me tell
you I've seen some guys that have it all planned out and would never
be found by an amatuer. So I just followed him where erver he went.
If he took a piss I was in the stall right next to him taking one too
"Didn't he recognize you.
"I wear a disquise. So here.
Stephen likes to go to the park. He went for along walk then he said
hi to this woman." Sallly was startled a little by this. She
was at the point of no return. Once she looked at the photo there
was no turning back. Sally looked at saw the woman was a very old
blonde woman who worked at the supermarket as a cashier at the
cigartte counter. Stephen always smiled when he saw her and he said
she reminded him of his mother.
"The scoundrel, Sally said. He's
cheating on me with her!"
"No," said Sam. "She
works at the supermaket where Stephen buys his cigarettes."
"Stephen doens't smoke."
"Sure he does. He smokes every
Sunday as he goes to the park to feed the ducks and sit at his
favorite bench." Sam showed her another photo. It was the
bench where Stehpen and his He also smokes when goes to the bar. Sam
showed Sally severeal photos of Stephoen.
"But he's never smoked around me."
"So you know I got thinking that
maybe Stephen was planning something. Like maybe the om\\\.
So then I saw him check into the CRazy
Eights Motel over then on Langford Street. '
"The one with all the prostitutes"
"That's the one. See I figured
stephen really didn't care about having a mistress. He just wants
some new tail." Sally gave Sam a look. She hated those fulgar
terms used for to refernce procreation.
"So he's fucking prostitutes"
"Well that's what I thought. He
goes and he checks into this motel room and a gets a pizza delivered
to this room. so I deciided to do a little surveillance and then I
go to the window and see Stephen. Yeah the guy there has a rule you
can use the room for what ever you want as long as it you don't set
the place on fire. I look through the window there I see Stephen in
his under wear jumping on the bed. He's got the room trashed. Beer
all over the place he's got the stereo so fucking loud that its
shaking the glass in the windows. Playing some Black Sabbath or
something. He jumping on the bed eating pizza then running all over
the room banging his head like some madman. I figured this fucker
must be on drungs.
"Drugs, now you tell me my husband
is on drugs. First he smokes then he's sleeping with the old lady at
the Food Barn
"No he's not sleeping with that
woman.
"then he's all over town drinking
at bars and singing with drunks."
"Now you tell me he's on drungs'
"Well it was my only explaination
for what so I asked the pizza guy what's the deal with the guy. '
"Oh him he does this every Frieday
night while his old lady is at some society shit thing. You know he
comes here cause no body cares. You walk down the fucking hallways
all you hear is people screwing so aint no body going to care if he
turns the music up. He just goes crazy. He lets it all out.
"What the fuck is he on."
"Oh Mr. Sheppard.
"Does he do drungs.
"Not that I've sen just comes here
downs a six pack and does some shots turns on the stereo and orders a
pizza
"Ever seen him with any girls."
"No.
"How about any guys."
"No...welll You mean like him
fucking some dude
"Yeah
"No but there was this one time he
had like three other guys here they had guitar and drums and shit.
they were leaving when Iw as coming up
always gives me a good tip.
"So I just watche him for a while.
Stehphen in the room jumping and dancing to that music. And it made
me smiled.
"My husbands a lunatic who sneaks
around to smoke drink do drungs screw old lady's who work at the
check out
"well he never had sex with that
woman and he doesn't do drungs
"Can't you see, he's not cheaing
on your." Sally started to cry. "That's worse."
"It means all this, he's never
been happy, he's had to live a lie, and he's never let his love die.
He promised me he'd stop."
"Can't you just behappy he's not
cheaint on you...I guess he's just living the life he never got to
live."
pizza guy sells him pot.
My disdain is not again'st love or
marriage or relationships my disdain is for the sacrifices that those
things create. The things that once mattered are lost in the ocean
of neptune. But this is just for me. What I loose what I have lost
and what it costs and what it eats up.
THE REAPER
The corn stalks covered the farm as far as the eye could see. They
rattled in the wind from the dark gray masses moving in from the
eastern sky. The rains approached and the field called to the man to
harvest. The man's machine, the savior, was the only thing that
could handle such a torturous work load. Every farm in Demmond was a
slave to machines. Machines were like soles on shoes, a necessity.
The marsh green house lay quiet in the darkness. Under a willow
tree just a few feet down a path from the house slept Wane Washburn.
He awoke and found a moon lit sky covered with clouds that rippled
like infinite sand dunes. Wane threw the empty bottle of Bull's
Juice Whisky to the ground and shrugged off his drunkenness. He
finished hooking the tractor's engine to the crane and started for
home.
Jimmy sat on his bed looking out the window at the magnificent sky.
His day had gone well. He had finished his chores early and because
his father was busy fixing the tractor he had the rest of the day to
himself. Jimmy looked down and spotted Wane approaching from the
path. He felt a cold chill run across his body. He got up and locked
his bedroom door. He knew his father had been drinking all day, but
he wasn't sure how the old man would be. Somedays he just fell on
his bed and died straight to sleep but others nights left scars.
Wane's heavy boots made a thump that echoed through the house. The
floors creaked as he searched in the darkness for some sign of light.
"Jimmy, where are you boy?" Jimmy heard his father's call
but didn't answer. He knew the tone of his father's voice and it was
far from inviting. Jimmy heard his father coming up the stairs.
Wane, still spiritually blessed from the whisky, swayed in the
hallway as if he were dancing with ghosts.
"Jimmy, where you at...little bastard." Wane pushed on
Jimmy's bedroom door but it wouldn't open. He rammed his body hard
against it and the door thundered. Jimmy ran to the window and
looked down. It was a long way down.
"Don't look down...don't look down," he said to himself.
Jimmy put his leg over the sill and stepped out onto the ledge. He
looked at the door and saw it giving. Finally the door broke open
and Wane charged the room.
"Where you going little bastard." Wane pulled Jimmy back
inside.
"No, daddy, no."
"I'll teach you not to come when your called." Wane
grabbed his switch and whipped Jimmy raw. The rod cut into Jimmy's
back and legs. The pain was so great that Jimmy screamed but no
sound came out as his lungs were stuck in exhalation and his mouth
remained wide open. Jimmy finally sucked in air and let out a cry.
Wane finished his vengeance on the boy and collapsed onto Jimmy's bed
exhausted.
Jimmy laid on the floor for some time. His body quivered from the
bites of the wooden snake. He stood up slowly and wiped his tears.
Jimmy looked at the old man on his bed. He was a big man. A hard
man. A strong man, too strong for Jimmy to ever to beat. Jimmy had
very few good memories with him. The few became harder to remember
with each beating.
"I hate you," Jimmy said, trembling. Jimmy scraped the
back of his throat for phlegm and when he was satisfied with the
consistency he spat the mucous on Wane's wrinkled face. "I wish
you died, old nigger." Jimmy limped out of the room and went to
the barn where he cried himself to sleep.
The day came with a scant amount of light. The sun was no match for
the was coming. Wane shivered back to consciousness without a faint
memory of the night. He looked out the window to the storm
approaching his farm. "Jesus." One good day was all he
had before the storm would hit. One good day was all he needed to
harvest enough to get by but first he would have to fix the tractor.
"Jimmy!" Wane looked around but there was no sign of the
boy. "Jimmy, where are you son." The house was empty.
Wane ran out of the house and down the path to the tractor where he
found the empty bottle of Bull's Juice Whisky and slowly things
became clear. "Damn it." He shook his head and went to
work.
Jimmy's eyes slowly focused as sleep left them. His body was stiff
and numb. When he finally moved an inch he felt the scars of the
night. His left leg was bruised and he hobbled when he walked. He
went to the window and looked out to the farm. He looked at the
house wondering if the man was still sleeping in his bed. Wondering
about breakfast. Wondering if things would be different if his
mother were here. Jimmy closed his eyes and took a deep breath and
smelled the bacon she use to cook for him. Jimmy opened his eyes and
looked up to the sky. "I miss you, Mama."
Jimmy sneaked back into the house. He didn't want to take a chance
the man would still be after him. He made it to the kitchen through
the back door and found the house empty. He looked at the table and
there was no bacon, no breakfast. Jimmy got a piece of bread from
the pantry, smeared it with butter, and settled down to feast.
Wane worked steadily under the tractor attempting to connect the
heart back into the metal beast. The engine dangled on a chain from a
small crane and rested ten inches from his chest. The bolts where
rusted and stripped which made the job difficult. Wane pulled the
engine to one side to connect it to the mount. The engine was heavy
and it took every muscle in Wane's body to push it against the
mounting cradle. Wane's face scrunched up like a raisin from the
struggle. He finally felt the engine give and it slid into the
cradle where he had been pushing to. The engine clanked against the
side of the tractor. The chain slipped off and the engine began to
fall. It fell fast and heavy onto Wane's chest pinning him to the
ground. If not for the cradle holding the engine Wane would be dead.
Wane struggled to breath and finally let out a cry. He panted and
waved his arms and legs about like a roach on its back. He looked up
tot he sky at the last bit of light beaming through the dark clouds
and uttered, "Jesus." The light disappeared. A flock of
crows shot out into the world from the corn field and Wane watched
them fly away.
It came from the field with a faint ticking of thunder. Wane knew
it could not be rain. Not yet. It came from the field, driven purely
by instinct to feed and protect itself. It had sensed danger and was
now side winding to shelter. It's long curved body slithered like a
phantom over the dusty ground. It's eyes black as death and its
tongue like a pitch fork guiding its way to safety. Wane looked in
the direction of the ticking. He stared at the dirt and saw it move.
He shook his head and closed his eyes in disbelief and when he
opened them he believed.
"Jimmy!" Wane's heart raced and he struggled to free
himself but there was no way out of the clutch of the iron maiden.
"Jimmy where are you?"
Jimmy sat on the kitchen floor and devoured his third piece of
bread. He heard his father's voice and froze with anticipation. He
poked his head up from behind the counter and waited for the man to
enter. When he saw no one enter he went back to eating. The man
continued to call in a way Jimmy had never heard his father call. He
hobbled to the screen door and looked out towards the tractor. He
could see the man under it. The man called to him but he refused to
go. Jimmy's heart began to race at the thought of the man hurting
him again. He held himself back but the man's voice kept calling for
him to help. Jimmy looked around the room and saw his father's gun.
He picked it up. It was heavy, strong, and steal. It was strong
enough to beat his father. Jimmy looked in his father direction and
said, "He wont' hurt me now."
Jimmy made his way down to where the man laid under the machine.
Jimmy was on the opposite side of the snake. At first Jimmy didn't'
make himself known but he stepped on a patch of dry leaves and the
man looked over and saw him.
"Jimmy," the man said in relief.
Jimmy stepped out of the bushes. Wane saw the gun.
"Thank god you got my gun."
"You aint' hurting me no more.," Jimmy said.
"I'm not going to."
"Liar!" Jimmy lifted the gun and pointed it at Wane.
"Jimmy, what are you doing. Give me the gun."
"No!"
"I need the gun."
"No."
"Jimmy, give me the fucking gun now or I'll..."
"Beat me?" Jimmy shook his head. "Not if I beat you
first."
"No, Jimmy you can't." Wane looked over at the serpent.
It was five feet away. "Jimmy, I'm sorry I hurt you, son, but I
don't have control over it." The snake encountered Wane began
to rattle loudly.
"Jimmy, you hear that?" Jimmy listened and heard the
rattling of the snake on the other side. "There's a snake and
you have to kill it."
Jimmy hobbled over to the other side and saw the long serpent When
it saw Jimmy it coiled up and hissed. Jimmy jumped back and froze.
"Jimmy, you got to help me. I know I've done you wrong but
we're family. Your mama's gone and now it's just you and me. We're
all we've got. Family's got to protect each other. Family's got to
be there for one another. Family don't hurt each other."
"But you hurt me," Jimmy said. He stood stiff in a daze
as he watched the snake slide closer to the man who had tortured him
for most of his life. Jimmy felt strong with the gun in his hands.
He could beat the man. There was a flame in Jimmy that burned hot
from all the misery the man had caused him. He could show him once
and for all. He could beat him. Jimmy slowly raised the gun.
"Shoot it, Jimmy!" Wane said.
Jimmy thought about beatings the man had gave him night after night
in his drunkenness. Today it could end.
"Jimmy, kill it."
Jimmy knew what he had to do. He knew what would happen if he let
the man live or if he let the man die. Jimmy pulled the hammer back.
.His face was cold and a darkness filled his eyes. The man noticed
it and trembled. The snake moved in to attack and the man cried out.
"I'm sorry, Jimmy."
From where he stood he could have shot either one of them.
Jimmy pulled the
trigger.
tHE BUS
When Jack opened the
door to his home he knew there was a problem. He could hear water
running and the place smelled like a bad toilet from a mexican
restaurant. He turned on the hallway light and saw the brown ooze
rushing out of the bathroom. The toilet was overflowing like
fountain and the smelly river of brown was flowing into all the rooms
and in the corner by the closet where the water had no where to flow
it was just collecting like a big pond of turds.
"Fuck me, what
is this shit!" Jack said. He had been having the worst luck in
his life all month. This was the icing on the cake. First his car
gets stolen then a day after its found and returned to him someone
hits him from behind and totals it. He walked out unscathed but now
he had to ride the bus and public transportation as he put it SUCKED
ASS.
He hated the people
he had to ride with to get to work and he sensed that they hated him.
He looked like a man who had been used to driving to work in his own
car and that is exactly what he was while everyone else on the bus
looked like they belonged on the bus. They had a compromising way
about them. They new the propper bus edicate and protocals that Jack
didn't. Like where to sit, when to ring the bell, and how you could
only claim one seat. Jack always wanted two seats. One for himself
and one for his small suitcase which could easily fit on his lap.
But really Jack just didn't want the regular bus people sitting next
to him. Some of them smelled funny while some others smelled like
they'd shit thier pants. Then there were the crazy people who always
seemed to be on the bus. No matter when Jack got on the bus it was
the same people. One was an olderman with a hat who spent most of
his time sleeping. The other was a skinny black guy in his twenties
that sat in the middle of the bus and had this large eyes that were
always staring at people. It was a very predatroy stare and Jack
always wondered what his intentions were. Jack was a little bit
bigger than him andhe knew he could take him if he needed to but
still there was something about his stare that told him that guy
wasn't right in the head.
But the worst
offenders where the talkers and the sleepers. The talkers would sit
next to Jack and just start talking about whatever their kids,
thierjob, the government, the state of the world. Shit that Jack
really didn't give a damn about. And the sleepers would lean up
against Jack and go to sleep. He's missed his stop a few times
because he couldn't get one of the sleepers to wake up and let him
out of the seat.
Jack couldn't wait
to get his new car and say goodbye to bus living. But now his home
was destroyed. The place smelled evil. Sure he could understand
that shit happens but really the way his house looked it had a sense
of something other than bad plumbing had caused this. A bad omen,
someone maybe. Because everything was destroyed. His rugs his
floors would have to be replaced it would take months to get his
place back to the way used to be and who knows if that horrible smell
would ever go away. It wansn't the usual smell of shit this was
worse. It was like a dense sulphuric smell that suffocated a person.
Jack had to cover up his face as he walked through thehouse
inspecting allt he damage. The kitchen was destroyed as the plumbing
has some how burst through the sink and there was shit all over the
place. The living room ws a big pond of sewage with traces of toilet
paper and turds floating all over. Somehow his tv, stereo, and
components had all been touched by the wave of shit. Nothing had
been spared. Somehow the shit had gotten in his drawers, his closet
and on his bed.
All his clothes, his
expensive suits, his work clothes, his whole wardrobe was covered in
brown. They were still dripping.
This was Evil. Not
a bad plumbing accident. His life was destroyed. He could not
believe his luck. As he walked out of the apartment in disgust
feeling his life falling apart what was he going to do now.
An hour later the
landloard arrived and could not believe what he saw. He called 911
because he felt he needed to call someone. He had never seen
anything like this in all the years he had been the landloard at Sky
High Apartment Comlplex. The firemen arrived first then a police
squad car. The firemen walked into the room and then looked at each
other not believing the grossness.
The police officer
walked in and coughed and gagged from the smell he could not believe
what the situation. He's seen murder victimes gutted, some
decapitated but nothing compared to the grossness of Jack's
apartment.
"What the hell
happened, here?"
"It definately
came from teh toilet," one of the fireman told the police
officer.
"Damn it to
hell, if this ain't the grossest thing I have ever seen."
"Saw a woman
and baby burnt to the bone one time, this beats it."
Jack stood by the
door listening to the men. He wondered what all this was about. His
perfect life was not slowly crumbling down it was falling down like
an avalanche.
"This is place
is ruined. We can't let anyone live here. Who knows what disease
you could pick up here considering it seems that there had been a big
build up of sewage in the septic tanks below. There was a huge build
up of methane gas and when the gas build up enough pressure it blew
the blockage back. It all seemed to have come out in this apartment.
None of the other apartments have been affected."
Great Jack thought.
Of all the fucking rotten luck.
"Are you the
owner of the apartment," the officer said cringing and using the
word apartment very loosely.
"Yeah, I'm
jack."
"Well jack this
place is off limits. You can live here."
"But all my
stuff"
"Your stuff is
dead, man. Look at it its all shit." The Police officer looked
around the room again shaking his head. "I ain't never seen
anything like this...ever. Life sure ain't kind to somepoeple.
Karma's a bitch."
"What do you
mean."
"Nothing, Jack.
Just you know at church they were talking about reaping what you
sow. They talked about how a virtuous man can have a good life by
following the righteous path and well bad things happend to bad
people. Are you a bad person, Jack."
"No, I don't
think so."
"You don't
think so? You don't sound like you're too sure. I mean if someone
were to ask me if I was a good person I would say yes, as good as I
can be."
"Well I've
never really thought aobut it. I mean I don't try to hurt anyone, I
go to work, pay my bills, pay my taxes, don't do anyone any harm."
"I see, okay
then well maybe this ain't karma its just some fluke like winning the
lottery only you won the shit lottery. It has to fall on somebody I
guess....I guess this time it was you. I'm going to leave you with
my card, Jack, if you need to talk to someone or have any questions
you let me know. As the lord says we must alays have an open ear for
those who have things to say."
"Thanks,
Officer" Jack looked at the officer's name tag, "Officer,
Brown. Thanks for your help." Officer brown took out his cell
phone and took a quick picutre.
"Ain't no one
going to believe this." Officer Brown said walking out of the
apartment.
Jack stood there as
the Firemen waddled through his apartment. He took a last look and
walked away.
Karma's a bitch.
Jack wondered if this karma knocking on his door. But he was not a
bad person. He was not evil. He didn't deserve this. This was not
for him. He hadn't done anything bad enough to deserve this.
Jack wondered where
he should go. He could hail a cab but he wanted to walk. He wanted
to think about everything. He wondered what he was going to do now.
A CRACK OF THUNDER
"Okay, Jack, do something!"
said Mr. Clark. Jack was my father. Not a big man but not a small
one either. Mr. Clark was egging my father to do something. Pushing
his shoulder and putting his fists up. My father just looked at him.
the other men around the bar hooting and hollering.
"Go one, Jack, show'em what you
got. Teach the mother a lesson." said the men.
My father lifted up his pint glass and
three back the last few ounces of dark brew. When he finished he put
the glass down and wiped his mouth with is arm and got up. Mr. Clark
took a step back. He still had his hands up but was beginning to move
them like he was pedaling a bike with this hands.
"Come one you chicken shit, show
me something." said mr. Clark. Mr. Clark was a tall fat man
with a round red face and nose that looked like it'd been stung by a
nest of bees. He was always trying to get my father fired up.
"come on faggot, do something."
My father took a step towards him and looked around at the other men
at the bar. Most of the men were guys he'd worked with all his life
and some he even grew up with here in Mayberry.
Mr. Clark was actually farely new in
town. Only been here for two years but ever since he come to town
people never seen my father the right way again. When ever we go
into town I here em talkking whispering to themselves about my
father. Never really here what they saying but they always laugh a
bit as they point at him. My father so slow at times I think he
misses it all but I catch it and sometimes I just wanna get a stick
and whack them people in the skull.
I watched as my father looked at Mr.
Clark. Even though Mr. Clark was a bigger than my father I just
wanted my father to give him a good one. To stop these men from
always calling him a coward.
The men instigated the situation. "Go
on Jack, show the cock sucker a thing or two. Show em what you made
of if you got anything that is." The men threw back some drink
and laughed as they pointed at my father making gestures like he had
a little willy.
"Let's go, Johnny." My father
said. I was surprised. I down my coke the way my dad has finished
his beer complete with wigping my mouth on my arm.
My father gothis hat and left a ten
dollar billa t thebar. The men made chicken noises at my fahter.
"Jack you fjcikgin loser. You showing hta boy of yours how ot
runaway. Next go teach him how to squat when he takes a piss."
said Mr. Clark. The men laughed.
My fahter walked out but I turned
around and gave the men a stare and gave them the finger but it do
nothing but make the men laugh more.
We were both silent as we got into the
car. I was sore about this and could feel the soda in my belly
coming up my throat. I wanted my father to go in there and whack Mr.
Clark in the skull. To make them repect him.
We rode him in silence. Niether of
looking at each other still there was something being said in it. We
don't talk much in our family but somehow we always know what the
other is thinking. As we drove downt he highway I watched the sun
god ownpast the cypress threes. I looked at my old man. He looked
as if nothing had happened.
"Why you let themt alkt o you like
that. We aint cowards you and I."
"I reckon it just aint my way. No
need to get all heated up over nothing, JJ."
"Don't seem right not sticking up
for yourself." That's where I left it. Wasn't much else tosay.
The truck slowed down and pulledover to
the side of the road. My father got out and walked over to the
cypress trees. I figure the man had to take a leak. I would have
gone too but I just didn't feel like following his footsteps.:
I threw my head back and closed my
eyes. I could see them boys at school teasing me about this. How my
father was a coward and weak and how Iwas too. But Iwould show them.
Just because my fahter was a coward dind't mean I was. And if Mr.
Clarks boy came at me I would thump his skull.
"JJ. Look here." My father
shouted. I saw him standing next to cypress tree. About twenty feet
high and with a good six foot round trunk. My father let out a loud
noise as if someone had him him inthe nuts and then he punched the
trunk of the tree. A loud clasp of thunder echoed all the way tomy
ears and the tree fellover. I dropped my jaw and pissed myself. I
stared at my father as he walked back to the truck.
He got in the turck and looked at me.
"Next time you think i'm nothing,
you remember than tree."
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Quick Write: T and Me
We sat at the light waiting for the
Green. T and Me. T was pissed that he hadn't gotten paid from all
the work he done.
“Damn bitches he said theythink I'm
gonna play for free they's crazy.
“T just let them be I said
“Me, If I let them do what they do
they just treat me a fool
well then
that's right T drove down to the club.
It was empty a sit was till day light and he went into and in a few
minues I heard a boom an T coming running out with some money in his
hands and then we drove off really qucikly.
I said what the heck going on
T said not to worry that he had
everying under control
He showed me the money and laughed.
I said what was that Boom
He said that was him showing the club
man a lesson.
The cars revved their engines at the.
Sometimes it hard to get inspired to write and just what you thin I'm
ssupe to write Ig uess I don't care. New I dea or conc
Quick WRite: Tootsie Roll
Just the other day I was telling amaa
about them boys at the store. Them boys always hooting at me and
telling me to come buy tonight what ever that means. Them boys I
knows them they go to school wit me and they sit in my classes and
they don't listen to the teacher or nothing they just always hooting
and hollerin and playing on their phones and make a mess. So the
other day I goes to the store to get some candy and them boys are all
around me at the door.
What you doing Tiffany.
I came to get some Candy I says
Well we got some candy for you Tiffany,
You like chocolate
I said I did
Well we got a big fat tootsie roll for
you you wanna get it
I said Sure
Then them boys told me to go back
behind the store cause that's where I would get the Tootsie Roll
So I followed them and then they pushed
me
Quick Write: BAM ofFriction
When things happen at the same time
they happen at the same time and there is no way around it. Its just
the way things are you can't control it you can't bully it to do what
you want it to you just have to go with it, like it or not. Things
are always happenning at the same time for me. Like when I pull inot
a parking spot someone else is pulling in too and we hit. BAM. Then
there are times where I want a Pice of pie and there is someone there
buying the very lsast piece of pie and then we hit BAM. But really
this is osme good old pie and anyone would BAM over it. So what is
the term when all things are happening at the same time. Like when
driving down the road and the light turns red just as you approach
even though there was no one in sight as you approached still you got
stuck. It creates friction. This is what life is full of friction.
Its the force that keeps things from goinkj flowing smootly.
Monday, September 10, 2012
QW: Fire Drill
The students of the elemtary school
lined up for the fired drill. Was this a real fire
No said bur Burns as he ushered the
kids to the odor. This is just a routine satery drill in case there
was a real fire there Seymour. Seymour Duncan the coolest kid in the
fourth grade was always asking questions like and somewho it was
always funny. No matter what he did he just came ouff as funny. He
could fkae being stupid in the his clases na dpepl laughed. That was
why he was so ppoular. Symour and his buy Jeff always ate lunch
togheter. They never realy ate that just hung around heather who was
the this hot chick from the west side of town. Her daddy was a lawyer
her mama was a teacher and she has brains from both of them and the
looks of her hot mamama. Heater was the gilr eveyrone wanted to be
in school she was
QW: Sally Minni and Jelly Bean
Sally went to the her mama's purse.
She was feeling a bit devlish. She was good wit it and did the deed.
Two dollars gootten from Mamma for popcorn and soada after school
with the gilrs. Mama would never know. Sshe felt bad about I but
then again she figured she ddint 'do it often so there was no real
harm I n it it was only two dollars not like here Mama would notice.
Sally went to school and when the time came to go to the show she
met Minni and Gelly Bean out by the lag poles. Jelly been had them
corn rows and Minni had long straight hair that evern black girl
wanted. She was light sckinned like a white girl ad had green eyes.
Here Daddy was white and her mama was Black and they had gotten
togeter to make some beautiful chile that was going to turn heads
when she
QW: Machines
THE MACHINES HAD A MIND OF their OWN
THEY WERE POSSESED BY WHAT SEEMS SOME SPIRTIS THE OLD TIMER FIGURED A
SPPOL HAD CRAWLED UP IN THE BELL OF THE REAPER AND HAD SOMEHOW CAUSED
A SPELL ON IT. HE FIGURED THAT THERE WAS THE SOULD OF SOMETHING IN
TO FOR IT TO ACT THE IT WAS. JIMMY WATCHED AS TH CMACHINESMOVED
AROUDN THE
QUICK WRITE: LUCKY CHARMS
Three weeks in waiting and still no
world of whether Henry had gotten the job at the SipCo Gas stations.
He'd thought things had gone well. He'd thought he would shurely get
a call back and he'd thaought that He'd be working by now.
He'd even worn his nice shirt, the one
it the little alligator on it that he'd luckly found at the commhnity
thrift store. He was one lucky son of a bith he mama always told him
even when he didn't liten to her she was right. Henry was as alucky
as leprchaun. He kind of looked like one too. He was small and had
reddish brlond hair with this litltle face of chubby face o f a name.
When he wore green people would call him lucky charms. Henry just
laughed at it since he didn't even know who lucky charms was he just
thought the name sounded cool. He smiled when people said it he
thought they were being friendly to him. When they laughed he houtgh
they were just enjing his compuany. Henry
QUICK WRITE: 85B
The garbage laid on the floor for
several days. Just a bunch a shit if anyone saw it. Smelly garbage
bags with flies buzzing every where and some stained old clothes.
Like I said just a bunch of shit. So when the tenants of Vista Veiw
Apartments complained to Joe Perez, the care taker/superintendent,
Mr. Perez just smiled and said he'd take care of the garbage
situation. He smiled when he said this and his smile was rather
peculiar in that it looked as if he was lying but yet so believable.
Joe Perez had a way of look at a person and make them feel as if
things were going to get done, things were going to be okay, and that
things could never go wrong when he was around. But the tenants of
Vista Way were wrong, dead fucking wrong.
Joe Perez had no intention of moving
the pile of garbage that someone had thrown in the ditch because he
had been that someone. Joe Perez had killed a mousey woman who lived
in apartment 85B. They had been seeing each other nightly for some
nightly fun the kind that doesn't always happen at night but many
times it does if you no what I mean. No. Well then sex. He was
banging her every night and the woman was estatic. She's never known
anyone like Joe Perez. He was tall with an incredible athletic body
that could go all night and with her it did. He looked like that
James Bond fella, not the first or the second one but the guy who
used to play Mr. Steele. The mousy woman from 85B had fallen in love
with Joe Perez and had secretly stopped taking her birth control.
When Joe found out well he took care of Ms. 85B and burried her in
the ditch. Then he got some garbage out of dumbster at the SafeWay
put the garbage over the spot he'd burried her. He didnt' need the
garbage to be there long. He knew that in a few weeks the garbage
would break down into the soil and any evidence that someone had been
digging around there would be gone.
Joe Perez was confident that this would
work. Ms 85B never came out of the hosue, had no friends, and
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Saturday, September 8, 2012
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