On people, and stupidity, and me....
Aug. 20th, 2005 12:04 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
conuly
This is one of my mother's favorite stories about me. I've told it before, so I'm going to cut it.
Way back when I was three or four or five or six - little, anyway - my dad took me to the playground.
I sat in the sandbox and played. Strange thing, I loved the sandbox, but hated sand in my shoes, yet I always forgot to take my shoes off until after there was sand in them. This persisted right up until I stopped going to playgrounds with sandboxen in them. Anyway, as I played, this bigger boy was walking around with some form of sports equipment - a baseball bat, or a tennis racket, or a hockey stick, I don't know - and intimidating the other kids to make them get off of everything. And this was working. Maybe the other parents weren't there? I don't know.
And my dad is watching me to make sure nothing bad happens, but keeping his distance for the moment.
Eventually, the kid gets up to me (not knowing my dad is listening) and says "Move, or I'll hit you with this thing".
And this is the part my mom loves, because I turn around and go:
"Thing? Thing? What thing? It has a name, you know. You're carrying that around, and you don't even know what it's called? That's stupid. You're stupid. I can't believe you don't know what that is. Thing."
He runs away, I go back to playing, and my mom gets a great story.
I should explain that "it has a name, you know" was a catchphrase around the house my entire life. The word "thing" was Just Not Acceptable. (I sometimes wonder how my mom would've reacted to Latin, where the word "res" is bandied about like nobody's business, but that's a tangent.) So part of my reply has to do with the fact that I knew that everything has a name, and that that name is rarely, if ever, thing.
But the rest of it centers squarely on my belief, already firm as a child, that most of the world is stupid. Fortunately (or perhaps not), I'm not entirely certain of that belief anymore, but I find myself thinking that people are stupid all the time. And I always want to use those four words: "That's stupid. You're stupid." It's so often true, after all.
People are unbelievably stupid. They do stupid things. They say stupid things. And then they act like the stupid things they do aren't stupid, even though they can't explain why they do it.
They say things are fine when they clearly aren't fine, and get upset when you point that out, when all you want to do is know how to act better so that things will be fine again. The smart thing would be to tell people what's upsetting you, but instead they do the stupid thing and lie.
When confronted with the basic fact that many children are savage beasts, they conclude that they should teach the preychildren to be different, because... I don't know. Because there's less of them? But clearly the solution lies in making the other children gain some measure of decency, doesn't it? (I rather like children, tell the truth. There's something refreshingly honest about their general uncivilised ways.) The savagebeastchildren aren't going to stop attacking the others just because the others work themselves to death trying to change, they're too clever to be fooled that easily. And even if they are, they'll find somebody else to pick on. Every wolfpack has its scapegoat. Scapewolf? Point is, that's how people tend to be. Except we're not wolves, or lions, we're humans, and we can either admit we don't live up to our ideals, or stop doing that.
I'm tired. I've been getting to bed early. This post isn't very good. People are stupid, though. I'm sorry to say so, but it had to be done. Love you all dearly, you're clearly not people, because I don't think you're stupid. I'm going to bed now. This ending is also not very good, and I wonder if maybe I shouldn't type until I wake up.
Way back when I was three or four or five or six - little, anyway - my dad took me to the playground.
I sat in the sandbox and played. Strange thing, I loved the sandbox, but hated sand in my shoes, yet I always forgot to take my shoes off until after there was sand in them. This persisted right up until I stopped going to playgrounds with sandboxen in them. Anyway, as I played, this bigger boy was walking around with some form of sports equipment - a baseball bat, or a tennis racket, or a hockey stick, I don't know - and intimidating the other kids to make them get off of everything. And this was working. Maybe the other parents weren't there? I don't know.
And my dad is watching me to make sure nothing bad happens, but keeping his distance for the moment.
Eventually, the kid gets up to me (not knowing my dad is listening) and says "Move, or I'll hit you with this thing".
And this is the part my mom loves, because I turn around and go:
"Thing? Thing? What thing? It has a name, you know. You're carrying that around, and you don't even know what it's called? That's stupid. You're stupid. I can't believe you don't know what that is. Thing."
He runs away, I go back to playing, and my mom gets a great story.
I should explain that "it has a name, you know" was a catchphrase around the house my entire life. The word "thing" was Just Not Acceptable. (I sometimes wonder how my mom would've reacted to Latin, where the word "res" is bandied about like nobody's business, but that's a tangent.) So part of my reply has to do with the fact that I knew that everything has a name, and that that name is rarely, if ever, thing.
But the rest of it centers squarely on my belief, already firm as a child, that most of the world is stupid. Fortunately (or perhaps not), I'm not entirely certain of that belief anymore, but I find myself thinking that people are stupid all the time. And I always want to use those four words: "That's stupid. You're stupid." It's so often true, after all.
People are unbelievably stupid. They do stupid things. They say stupid things. And then they act like the stupid things they do aren't stupid, even though they can't explain why they do it.
They say things are fine when they clearly aren't fine, and get upset when you point that out, when all you want to do is know how to act better so that things will be fine again. The smart thing would be to tell people what's upsetting you, but instead they do the stupid thing and lie.
When confronted with the basic fact that many children are savage beasts, they conclude that they should teach the preychildren to be different, because... I don't know. Because there's less of them? But clearly the solution lies in making the other children gain some measure of decency, doesn't it? (I rather like children, tell the truth. There's something refreshingly honest about their general uncivilised ways.) The savagebeastchildren aren't going to stop attacking the others just because the others work themselves to death trying to change, they're too clever to be fooled that easily. And even if they are, they'll find somebody else to pick on. Every wolfpack has its scapegoat. Scapewolf? Point is, that's how people tend to be. Except we're not wolves, or lions, we're humans, and we can either admit we don't live up to our ideals, or stop doing that.
I'm tired. I've been getting to bed early. This post isn't very good. People are stupid, though. I'm sorry to say so, but it had to be done. Love you all dearly, you're clearly not people, because I don't think you're stupid. I'm going to bed now. This ending is also not very good, and I wonder if maybe I shouldn't type until I wake up.
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no subject
Date: 2005-08-20 05:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-20 06:20 am (UTC)People are taught, directly and indirectly, that revealing weakness invokes harm. We don't cry in public except in a very few occasions because crying means that we're weak and someone will hurt us. We're not "supposed" to reveal physical pain for the same reason.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-20 09:57 am (UTC)Bill Hicks
A quote that in my experience ahs proven Always and ultimately true
no subject
Date: 2005-08-20 10:38 am (UTC)Example one: I look in pain and random person asks me if I'm okay.
No, I'm not okay. I'm seriously ill and I'm in pain. However, this is chronic and there's no need for them to get involved or do anything. I am fine because things are ... not status quo, but within the realm of normal for my daily life. There's no point in worrying them and trying to explain that I'm seriously ill but that's just the way it is and it's not their problem isn't worth doing. This also applies to lots of non-stranger situations where it isn't worth the time or I don't want to go into the details.
Example two: Something is bothering me, but I feel it's because I am overreacting or being overly sensitive. I don't want to go into it, and nobody did anything wrong. I just need to recompose myself.
These situations and others call for a convenient lie. In truth, I'm never fine. I'm probably never going to be fine. So, you have to lower the standards of what that means. Because you can't always respond with the longer but always in effect answer. Or even the intermittent but recurring problems that really aren't most other people's concern.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-20 01:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-20 05:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-20 05:42 pm (UTC)And people are stupid. I at least try to admit when I've done something stupid. If nothing else, to myself if I'm too embarressed or ashamed or whatever to bring it up and admit to others or it would do more harm than good to admit it.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-20 08:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-22 01:55 pm (UTC)That's STUPID!
*huggles*
Seriously though...
no subject
Date: 2005-08-25 02:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-20 05:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-20 06:20 am (UTC)People are taught, directly and indirectly, that revealing weakness invokes harm. We don't cry in public except in a very few occasions because crying means that we're weak and someone will hurt us. We're not "supposed" to reveal physical pain for the same reason.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-20 09:57 am (UTC)Bill Hicks
A quote that in my experience ahs proven Always and ultimately true
no subject
Date: 2005-08-20 10:38 am (UTC)Example one: I look in pain and random person asks me if I'm okay.
No, I'm not okay. I'm seriously ill and I'm in pain. However, this is chronic and there's no need for them to get involved or do anything. I am fine because things are ... not status quo, but within the realm of normal for my daily life. There's no point in worrying them and trying to explain that I'm seriously ill but that's just the way it is and it's not their problem isn't worth doing. This also applies to lots of non-stranger situations where it isn't worth the time or I don't want to go into the details.
Example two: Something is bothering me, but I feel it's because I am overreacting or being overly sensitive. I don't want to go into it, and nobody did anything wrong. I just need to recompose myself.
These situations and others call for a convenient lie. In truth, I'm never fine. I'm probably never going to be fine. So, you have to lower the standards of what that means. Because you can't always respond with the longer but always in effect answer. Or even the intermittent but recurring problems that really aren't most other people's concern.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-20 01:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-20 05:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-20 05:42 pm (UTC)And people are stupid. I at least try to admit when I've done something stupid. If nothing else, to myself if I'm too embarressed or ashamed or whatever to bring it up and admit to others or it would do more harm than good to admit it.
no subject
Date: 2005-08-20 08:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-08-22 01:55 pm (UTC)That's STUPID!
*huggles*
Seriously though...
no subject
Date: 2005-08-25 02:43 pm (UTC)