False Wisdom

I would say that I was once full of wisdom, but I have become wiser since then.  Wise enough to know that I shall never be full of wisdom.  I used to write and quibble nonsense, give it an appropriate context, shovel it into someone’s brain and be on my merry way.  It worked well enough I suppose.  I never received any real complaints on the subject.  Thing is, I don’t know which of the three reasons this is due to. 

1: People were less wise than myself, and could not tell I was so full of shit so they did not ever approach me for being wrong, having perceived I was correct enough

2: People did not think my “advice” imparted upon them was of any real value, negative or positive, and were rather just my thoughts and they’d let me have my moments, or otherwise didn’t listen and just appeased me, something to these effects

3: My wisdom was beyond myself. 

Two of those reasons are very self centered in a way.  I tend to believe it is mostly number 2 that is most accurate, but I would like to indicate I have perceived evidence of the others as well.  So point being, I never can know. 

Sometimes I spoke of learned wisdom.  Someone else’s learned wisdom imparted to me.  And used it as my own, to sound as if though I survived some sort of traumatic experience that benefited me with some great knowledge.  But, I mean, give me a break, in a way I did.  Well suffer a traumatic experience I mean.

This wisdom, I don’t know if it’s fair to call it that.  I don’t really know what to call it though. It often arose from places one would not expect to look.  Video games, movies, TV, or books, particularly manga and comic books, to name a few places.  I could think so much about one particular thing that it would attain a new meaning as means for philosophy.  I could drag out so many examples of what I mean, but it would be practically pointless unless to point out my blatant irrelevancy and perhaps even a fringe of my insanity. 

Ah… But interestingly enough, it’s also this thinking that led me to an amazing person in my life.  This incessantly nagging mind that would never quell its reasoning, should do some good every now and then.  Much to my amazement.  And now a pocket watch has new meaning in my life. It’s an interesting story.  Perhaps one for another time however.  I was speaking of my false influence on other people’s lives for the moment.  I used to say inspiring things, when I myself was not inspired.  They seem to cease as my mind’s deterioration slowed and in turn I grew less contemplative of complex things.  I started to be more satisfied with the way things are instead of questioning how things could be. 

It was this turn in thought that led me away from interesting and creative works, at least in my opinion.  Now my works are much more analytical in nature than creative, but there is a good balance every once and again. 

My father’s accident.

It was a difficult event in my life.  It still is.  Why I chose to segway to this, I don’t know.  But let me talk about it a bit.  My father, he owned a pest control business.  Did everything right to fulfill the American dream see?  Was raising his kid with good morals and integrity.  He worked hard to see his dreams come to fruition.  He treated people fairly, as far as I, a kid, could tell.  One day, he was on the job, setting rat traps in an attic.  The rafters broke and he fell through, to the concrete ground below.  He sustained a very serious head injury, he was in a coma for a while.  All the time, people kept telling me motivating things.  None of which I believed, many of which made me more upset that no one was being realistic about this.  Maybe that’s exactly when my brain “cracked” and it just took a few years for those cracks to cause some serious damage.  I was told things like he was just faking it to get out of work for a bit.  I would think “Lady, who in their right mind would fake this to do that?”.

For the first few days, I cried a lot, slept very little, wondered even more than I cried, would he live?  Now, 12 years later, I think to myself, it would have been easier had he not.  Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want him to die, or wish that he had, but it certainly would be easier.

Here’s where I would normally rant about insurance companies and introduce you to my view on politics.  But really… I don’t care any more.  I mean, companies are out there to make money, not provide you with excellent care, service or products.  They will do this on occasion however, if it tends to benefit their pocketbooks.  But that’s simply not the case in this particular instance.  And politics?  Well I certainly do have a view, but I don’t judge the “other sides” of my views as harsh as the rest of my family.  I do disagree with people blindly following forms of rhetoric though.  I can identify that a bit better at least thanks to some great schooling in high school on the part of one of my favorite teachers.

Anyway, that’s what happened to my father.  For now, my head pounds, with quite an ache, I fear I’ve gone ill. But I will return another time to tell another story and to allude to some more of my background.  May the force be with you, young padawan readers.

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