Friday, August 1, 2014

How To Be A Genius

I bought this magazine tonight at Barnes & Noble because I'm a sucker. The promise of unlocking the mystery of my common distress was far too powerful for me to resist. The common distress being, "How do I have a good idea, and then write about it, and then keep writing about it, until I have something about, say, book length and publishable?"

After the clerk had safely drained my bank account of the needed funds, she let her opinion be known: "It's funny how today we call it neuroscience, and we live in this age where we think it can be studied and we can understand it. They were just in the right place at the right time."

"That's the thing," I said, feeling the slight sting that accompanied the truth that I was just another rube looking for answers to the unanswerable, "we think we can figure it out."

"That's why everything is so screwed up, because we keep thinking we can figure it out, and we can't."

Maybe she's right. Maybe I'm wasting my time trying to reverse-engineer a process that won't submit itself to such awkward and sticky fumbling with its unapproachable majesty.

Or maybe she just wants to have an answer that makes her feel more comfortable in the world she wants lives in.

Maybe that's all anyone can do.

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