I have a unique talent for angering people. It's not something I ever planned to do; rather, it's something that simply happens when I go about my business. I keep to myself, concentrate on being the best person I can be, speak only when spoken to or when I have something important to say, and am polite to a T -- all of which drives people nuts.
It wasn't until adulthood that I grasped how shallow, desperate, and needy most people are (though maybe it's just Americans, as the people I've met overseas are more relaxed and less neurotic). I make sense of life by conducting my own internal inquiries and arriving at the answers; they make sense of life by shopping for pre-cooked answers from their surroundings. I have nothing to sell them. As born-and-bred consumers, they feel jilted at the sight of nothing to buy.
What I do offer is an exchange of ideas, at no charge, for anyone willing to trade. But that requires thought and effort, two things supremely unpopular in a society where the customer and his hind-brain impulses are always right. I would be far more popular if I belted out my unvarnished (or better yet, uninformed) opinions wherever I went, for that would place everyone at ease and let them know my brand without their having to lift a finger. As it stands, my friends are few and far between, the ones who have transcended mental infancy into adulthood. And that's precisely why I cherish them.
Being me once was difficult when I sought the approval of others. Now, I derive a rather guilty pleasure from pissing them off. The infants who can't handle interacting with an adult are filtered out; the adults join and enrich my life.
It wasn't until adulthood that I grasped how shallow, desperate, and needy most people are (though maybe it's just Americans, as the people I've met overseas are more relaxed and less neurotic). I make sense of life by conducting my own internal inquiries and arriving at the answers; they make sense of life by shopping for pre-cooked answers from their surroundings. I have nothing to sell them. As born-and-bred consumers, they feel jilted at the sight of nothing to buy.
What I do offer is an exchange of ideas, at no charge, for anyone willing to trade. But that requires thought and effort, two things supremely unpopular in a society where the customer and his hind-brain impulses are always right. I would be far more popular if I belted out my unvarnished (or better yet, uninformed) opinions wherever I went, for that would place everyone at ease and let them know my brand without their having to lift a finger. As it stands, my friends are few and far between, the ones who have transcended mental infancy into adulthood. And that's precisely why I cherish them.
Being me once was difficult when I sought the approval of others. Now, I derive a rather guilty pleasure from pissing them off. The infants who can't handle interacting with an adult are filtered out; the adults join and enrich my life.
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