Sense and Sensibility, Language and Speech

Sense and Sensibility; Language and Speech

Damn, I've been in such a combative mood lately. Maybe the summer heat is getting to me; maybe I'm just being who I really am. But I don't really give a fuck, you know. I'm not running for a Mr. Congeniality contest. I'm just after facts and truths, as usual. 

Those who have bothered to follow my blog should know that I'm fucking strongly against hypocrisy, bullshit, and false modesty. I'm always hankering after unvarnished truths, even if they are ugly and obscene because I strongly believe in freedom. Truths make you free. Don't you ever forget that truism. Free from what?, you may stupidly wonder. Free from emotional and intellectual slavery and bondage, asshole. Don't you know that scumbags and power-hungry religious and political leaders of yours would love to treat you like a mushroom by keeping you in the dark and feeding you bullshit all day long? That's what the realities are. Nobody really cares about you. You're damned lucky if your spouse and kids really cry their hearts out when you die. You're truly blessed if somebody really loves you, dies for you, and helps you, unprompted, with money, labor and time, if you need help. 

 

Anyway, a dude publicly proclaims that he's against bragging, but I and everybody else whose IQ is above room temperature know that the dude does brag, though subtly, but he brags nonetheless. As I said before, contrary to conventional wisdom, bragging is good to the soul, as long as it is factually correct. One must be one's most ardent fan.  Now I don't think he's capable of handling facts and truths. He lets emotional attachment get in the way. I'm stupid and ignorant about many things, but I'm strangely perceptive about some things, one of which is the dark recesses of the human mind. I have yet met anybody like me: ready and eager and willing to search and confront facts and truths. Everybody I have met so far puts on a front, a show of piety and goodness. Nobody is willing to say: here I am, standing naked before you, love me or reject me on my own terms; I am not going to pretend who I am not or who you want me to be so you would love me because I am too fucking proud of myself to do so. 

Who we are reflects in how we write. How we write is influenced by how we read. As readers, we need to have empathy to the writer's intent as well as cultivating a sensitivity to the meanings of words and the context in which the words appear, and avoid injecting our own personal interpretations or blindly following what others say what the words mean. Words mean what the majority users take them to mean. We must avoid the trap warned by Lewis Carroll, i.e., words mean whatever we want them to mean, contrary to common sense and conventional usage. By insisting that our own interpretations are the correct ones while labeling the meanings agreed to by the majority of the language users as "wrong" and " insensitive", we cast ourselves as self-righteous and ridiculous, if not downright stupid self-appointed agents of thought and language police.

But I'm not really brash and insensitive to human follies as I'm making myself to be. I'm really stupidly soft-hearted and sentimental and have paid a heavy price, even now, for my stupidity. Many songs in the late 1960's still bring tears to my eyes. Certain memories are impossible to eradicate. All I can do now is to vow that I must not be stupid again. But I don't know if stupidity will ever depart from me.  

Day rolling into night and back to day again as I wonder what I am doing on this planet and whether I am finally wise and happy. Lately I have a feeling that compared to most folks on this planet, I am comfortable with and proud of who I am. I am not rich or famous or accomplished, but I am healthy, virile, aware of what's going on, and, most importantly, emotionally and intellectually liberated (unlike the majority of humans, I am not burdened by superstitions and fallacious thinking, or hankering after fame). I don't think a God is looking after me. Nor do I  believe in afterlife. I think reincarnation is an unadulterated bullshit. Wishful thinking is for children and adult losers. But I don't call anybody a "dense" loser straight to their face as a stupid, ignorant, inarticulate, impecunious woman characterized me. I don't think I fit her description of me. I am financially independent. I go on a cruise twice a year, drive a brand-new car paid for cash, own a nice 3-bedroom condo, also paid with cash, in a resort area, speak 4 languages and read 4 more, write short stories in one language and poems in 4, have women of all ages falling for me, and am well-read and very good at logic and debate. People I interact at the poker rooms think I am a former college professor based on my diction and the level of general knowledge I evince. So, I think the woman who labelled me a "dense loser" after I rejected her romantic overtures was simply an asshole, considering the fact she was and still is ugly, very short, impecunious, stupid, ignorant, inarticulate, and nasty. No man in his right mind would consider her as a romantic material. She conveniently and blithely failed to realize that if she could not find a single man willing to spend time with her, there must be something seriously wrong with her. Nobody rejects a person of value. On the other hand, nobody wants to spend time with trash and garbage. Trash and garbage stink! When one opens one's mouth, words must be sweet and pleasing and factual, not outrageously biting and false. Biting and false words indicate the speaker is nothing but a stinking, fucked-up person. In fact, her stupid and false characterization of me infuriated and enraged me and got herself near the top of my black list. I will never forget such a stupid and outrageous insult of hers. Nor will I ever forgive her transgression. She is useful to my intellectual development, however. She reminds me in this world there are creatures like her who have no respect for truths and for themselves. They would say and do anything to alleviate their misery and sense of no-worth.

(To be continued)