We all have the ideal sense of self. I mean I like to believe I’m above average in most things. Like height. And maybe now, girth. And… *thinks* the enormity of my junk. Pretty standard stuff.
I signed up for brilliant.org a while ago… and never really got round to it. Which… doesn’t really make sense since I’ve had loads of time on my hands during lockdown and haven’t really done anything even remotely profound with any of it…
In any event as was recommended to me by the site I started out with their logic questions. I’ve never really considered myself to have Vulcan like sensibilities but I’ve always imagined that I was… *cough* above average in the facilities of cold, hard logic.
Jesus, did I fall hard off my little pedestal… blocking the jagged concrete floor (with little bits of rebar poking out) with my face.
There is likely garden variety loam with better sense of logic than me. In fact… statistically if I’d just guessed the answers randomly… I would have scored higher. I’m pretty sure my score got logged and sent to the developers as some sort of impossibility.
I gently close my MacBook… I’m too shocked to even slam down the screen in disgust… and edge away from the computer.
Am I really this stupid? I mean clearly the answer is yes… yes you are. But my self defense mechanism kick in at this point (like emergency lighting) you know some people are just good a different things. Like… I try really hard to think of something I’m really good at…
Hm. I’ll circle back to this once I’ve thought of something.
I’m miserable for the rest of the evening. Irrevocably distraught even. I mooch around and eventually run a bath (in which to drown myself). I pick a random book from the bookshelf and turn to a random part of the book and start reading. (I often do this… which is the main reason my books are all fucked… but also why hardly any of them have been read cover to cover)
It’s a story of Hakuin Zenji… the great Zen Buddhism revivalist. Well I think he is… after all I haven’t read the first 109 pages. Anyways… he sucks at Buddhism. And his quest to find a decent teacher with which to apprentice isn’t going well… and the one he has is impossibly mean to him, abuses him and gives him all these bullshit Koans to mull over (what sounds does one hand clapping make etc). He’s about to give up on the whole enlightenment malarkey when he wanders into someone’s garden and the women whose house it is… thinks he’s a prowler and knocks him unconscious with a broom. Anyways… when he eventually comes round he’s had this insane moment of enlightened and he suddenly gets it.
Anyways… he was 41. And I am 41. And I thought hey… that’s interesting… he was feeling rubbish about life and then he had his moment… maybe there is still hope for me.
I felt better after my bath. Psychologically at least. Cognitively I’m still a dumb ass. But being impaired in this way at least means I can hope that my moment of broom-stick insight is right around the corner. I’m so ready for it. Smite me. Smite me now.