On the recommendation of my parents, I will now proceed to introduce to you all (thank you for the support via the comments and Facebook, by the way) Insight and Out. This was a journal I kept for a brief period over the summer and early autumn of 2013 on the recommendation of my then-psychiatrist, which proved to be IMMENSELY helpful to at least my parents and probably to my psychiatrist as well.
Disclaimer: This was written frequently under rather extreme AS-induced stress and as I at no time originally intended to publish it, may stray over the line of political correctness
from time to time quite frequently. I do not mind telling you that I am extremely reluctant to publish this for fear that I look like a bigot in it, and because it is very scatterbrained virtually throughout. But without further ado, I give you the first part of Insight and Out for your perusal. I hope it proves useful.
I thus sally forth on my quest to fill five pages with what it is like to be me. Or, to put it rather more accurately, an incredibly handsome super-genius with super creativity, incredibly low charisma who likes animals better than people.
I know, it already sounds awesome, but do please control your excitement.
Anyway, the slightly-ridiculous-but-not-at-all-biased-or-untrue description above aside, I have a sort of mental image I like to aspire to. Namely, that of Harry Dresden played by Robin Williams with an IV of a blend of Red Bull and methamphetamine with absolutely no rips given about what others think of that. Screw your opinions, mine are infinitely superior to begin with and of course I’m always right.
Unfortunately I find myself not able to live up to that image. I do realize that what other people think of me and my actions has a direct (or was that indirect? Does anybody else think that “was” should have an “h” in? As in “whas?” So it matches the other “wh-” words (“whords?”)? By the way I get distracted oft – OOH SHINY) effect on my life and how I live it. Too much so, at times. I often assume that everybody thinks of me the same way I do myself, minus the arrogance and self-love, so therefore I assume that they usually only see what I view as faults. Which, in turn, causes no small amount of anxiety on account of I’m a fanatical perfectionist, to the point where I refuse to start projects (such as cleaning my room, building the ultimate Minecraft base, playing Dwarf Fortress, writing a book) purely on account of my inability to plan every step out in painstakingly exact detail and then adhere to that plan come hell, high water or swarms of morons.
Speaking of swarms of morons, my general view on what goes on in the head of Norm Alperson is not very generous. This in turn is the understatement of the year. As people go, most of them as far as I’m concerned are slobbering, brainless automatons whose sole purpose in life is to doggedly follow social media (or become Luddites) and perform functions that let those of us with actual independence function, like maintaining the Internet. Along with this is a healthy (read: Olympic-ready condition) dislike and disrespect with things that are “popular.” Now, don’t get me wrong, if something’s popular and I like it, that’s great. Minecraft, for example, is absolutely ridiculously popular, and I’m okay with that. As far as I’m concerned its popularity is warranted.
On the other end of the scope we have Call of Duty. Single most stupid game in existence. Basically it’s a glorified shooting gallery. Boring, linear gameplay, and on top of that most of the fanbase is made up of excrement-swallowing imbeciles who defy Darwin’s theory of natural selection to its face; by all rights they should have been eaten or killed long ago. It’s popular purely because it’s popular, and it is therefore stupid.
Pop music. Don’t even get me started. Although I’ve started myself already, so I suggest you strap yourself in. Pop music is utterly freaking retarded. There. I’ve said it. Hate me if you like, it feeds my persecution complex. Also please read this in Wheatley’s voice from Portal 2 or I’ll be terribly disappointed.
Anyway, one of the reasons that I utterly despise popular music is the fact that it’s morally degrading. I will be the first one to admit that I hate all the sexual references in things such as The Big Bang Theory. The funniest jokes are those that have nothing to do with coitus. Look at the ball pit scene, the episode where Sheldon and Howard fight over a parking spot, et cetera. It defies good Christian morals and if that doesn’t make me sound conservative as all get out I’ll eat my hat. Hang the conservatives and hang the liberals too, as far as I’m concerned. I hate those stupid labels and the crap they drag in on America’s politics. Everybody should have their own flipping viewpoint and not toe the Party line, this isn’t Soviet flipping Russia.
Which reminds me that among other things, although by all rights I should be a liberal (living as I do in [REDACTED] and being a nerd, since nerds tend to lean towards liberal-ness) I lean more the other way. As far as I’m concerned, abortion is murder and homosexuality is just plain wrong. I don’t approve of the huge deal that the latter is made into – it’s just another sin. Arguments that it can be genetic, I wave aside with the fact that pathological liars still sin every time they lie. Yeah, it sucks but it’s just another way the world’s broken.
And for God’s sake, if somebody hears that I don’t approve of homosexuality and implies that I’m akin to a racist or a sexist, God help me if I don’t plant my foot so far up their backside they’ll taste my shoe polish.
Oh, speaking of things that elicit violent reactions from me, one of the more painful ways to commit suicide that I can think of is to commit animal abuse, in particular to a dog or cat, and then let me find out. As far as I’m concerned, there’s a special hell set aside for you, pal, and not only do I hope you go there, I’d pay for the flipping privilege to send you there and laugh doing it. I hope those peoples’ livers and kidneys stop working so their bodies’ own poisons accumulate in the bloodstream till their skin turns brilliant yellow and they puke their intestines out of their noses.
*ahem* anyway, for some reason I have trouble applying the same standards to a horse or a cow. To me, the horse is a really old-model car and the cow is a hamburger with the legs still attached. Sue me.
Anyway, talking about my disapproval of homosexuality, the reason I do is because Jesus says it’s a sin. Admittedly I do a far from perfect job of following His commands, but still. I mean, being a hypocrite is one of the few things I’m not a hypocrite about.
I assume this is all giving you some idea of what it’s like to live in the crazy labyrinth of hedges, sand traps and brick cheese that is my mind. If not I apologize.
So despite my claiming to not give two bits one way or the other about how people think about me, I do tend to temper my bluntness somewhat a lot of the time.
Anyway, I will keep typing while listening to the Pokémon theme song, on account of it was recommended to me to stimulate myself while writing. So that’s a thing.
I’m not at all sure what to put on these. Oh, wait. Yes I am.
So for whatever reason I listen to authority other than my parents better than I do my parents. I will now speculate as to why this is. One thing is that my mindset is that at some place in my life I need to be the one calling the shots and this place is home, therefore when my parents try and impose their will on that time I get upset at them. Another one is that I have a certain set of boundaries about what is and isn’t acceptable for people to tell me to do, and my parents regularly cross those boundaries because they have the largest degree of influence over me, whereas my managers at work and teachers at school do not do so as much, while also I am leery of upsetting my work bosses because I’m more than a little reliant on them for my income.
Of course, looking at it from that point of view, my parents pay me far more than my managers. Which puts a big hole through that theory.
So, when I woke up today, Dad threw the dog’s ball at me. I waited a minute or so and then threw it back at him. I ended up hitting him accidentally in the eye. Which kinda upset me, because I had merely intended to get him back for having hit me with the ball. Unfortunately it hurt him quite a lot, which made me angry because I had just wanted to get him back for that joke. Therefore I mentally announced “This concludes my interaction with other people for the morning” and went back into my room and shut the door. I then started working on this essay again.
Anyway, I’ve noticed that I believe my friend Terry, who is also rather intelligent (though not, I think, to the same extent as me) does not have Attention Deficit Ooh Shiny Disorder, otherwise known as ADD/ADHD, on account of last night at a school meeting where we received computers I was able to note the difference in our interactions between people. Terry takes his time and takes an exceedingly polite and well-organized approach, versus my tactic of taking up the diplomatic sledgehammer and flailing around wildly disrupting my own thought processes with tangents and forgetting what I meant to say. Intriguing. I’ve also noted that I get angry at other people for not automatically knowing what I’m talking about.
I’ve developed a nasty habit of resuming a conversation that may or may not have occurred at most a week ago without any sort of preamble and expecting that the person I’m conversing with is going to have the same idea of what I’m talking about as I am. Since they usually don’t, that annoys and upsets me.
Also, I’ve received a number of diagnoses (some self-administered) for a variety or perhaps a plethora of mental disorders, including but not limited to Asperger’s syndrome, ADD, ADHD, ODD, PDD, OCD, OCPD and mild bipolar tendencies. I do not, however, take these things as something wrong with me, which makes for a rather uncomfortable situation when someone I’m talking to decides that they are. Rather, I consider these a number of badges to be worn with pride and hang popular opinion. There’s nothing wrong with me, as far as I’m concerned, other than a lack of motivation that leads me to procrastinate and underperform, something that hardly qualifies as mental illness.
If anything I would consider these things to make me better than the ordinary lunkheads derping their way through life like a band of frightened pigeons.
Speaking of other people and my disagreements with them, I tend to swing wildly between two extremes when dealing with others’ opinions. Naturally, where facts such as the thorough awesomeness of Firefly are concerned, my “opinions” and those of people around me matter not. Anyway, so the first extreme runs a little like this: I could not care less what you think, get your useless opinions the heck out of my way. The other is only slightly more caring: Why will you people not acknowledge the obvious superiority of my opinions and discard your own silly biases in favor of obvious facts?
Again, I would like to apologize if any reading this are in any way offended