Switch On/Switch Off.

Marissa and me are sitting on a park bench in Ealing, on a warm spring afternoon. For the next five minutes, we watch as a large, black Pigeon, bullies a small, random collection of white members of his own bird - forcing them to fly away from his guarded patch of wasted human vegetation and comfy grass. I crack a joke about the fat bird using Malcolm X as a source of inspiration, and how Pigeons will become only the second species - after human beings, dumb enough to use colour as an excuse to be shitty to each other. It is funny to me, humorous to her, and indifferent to the passers by - who neither know nor care for what we quietly laugh about.

Moments after the laughter subsides, her mind moves onto the next topic of thought; which frappuchino to drink in Starbucks, organizing her day at the gym tomorrow, or even the type of rice she will cook for that evening. These are normal, progressive thoughts of any life, and it is how her mind operates. Sure, she is intelligent. But for her, life is life - she is aware of the future, yet lives in the now. She does what needs to be done, then moves on.

In this two minute period, however, I have already run through a strand of about fifty different ideas, born from the fat black bird... Why is the Pigeon so greedy? Why did Pigeons never learn to share? How come human sharing is generally limited? Is all human nature innately selfish? If so, is this a result of a reality of human beings, being little more than a progressive disease, born from abiogenesis? It goes on, and on, and on, never ever ending. One stupid sight of a fat bird, and I am already racing to construct understandings in the meanings of the universe - even though, deep inside of me, I am certain I can never figure out these answers.
I drain people, lots of people. My energy and passion is strong, and I make those around me think - and I mean really think - to the point they would rather be someplace else - which is natural, I guess. This has been a product of instinct throughout my life, since I was old enough to remember remembering. I have always believed elements of life would silence the internal dialogue; hard work, exercise, drink, drugs, entertainment, pro-wresting, and finally, perhaps the biggest hope of them all, love. Nothing worked. Nothing.

I suppose this is a way of a rational mind - to think of the answers, as opposed to just let go and live in a world where the answers truly are. It is alienating, it is a lonely feeling, and it is probably a good reason why intelligence and happiness are like the Israel and Palestine of the human race; enemies by design, yet associates of nature.

Marissa once said most brains are full of cogs and whirls, whereas mine is futuristic and digitized. And I should learn to pause, relax, and rest sometimes. But I am sorry world, I just cannot do this. I cannot switch it off. I truly want to, and undoubtedly need to - but I don't believe I ever will. This is my internal gift - it is also my external punishment.


No comments:

Post a Comment