(no subject)

[tenlittlebullets]

So, I have realized something. I am, really, not an intelligent person. Clever, sure, but I don't think about things. Wit, quick connections, puns, factoids, thorough knowledge of the rules of a system and how to apply them, yes. Pondering, analysis, searching for actual meaning, criticism of substance instead of style? Noooooo, not me. Get me a bottle of absinthe and a prettyboy to crush on and I'll happily sit in the corner and call myself Capital R, because minus the "drunken" part I am the quintessential drunken cynic, forever making snide comments without offering anything constructive to offset them. And somehow at the same time I am a total aesthete. Despite all the nasty shit with depression last semester, I never once entertained suicidal thoughts because as long as there are things to look at and smell and hear and touch I have a reason to live. I love beauty in the most shallow, "oooh, look at the pretty!" way possible. This combination of quick neurons + lack of intelligence + beautywhoreness accounts for the fact that, for example, I have excellent musicianship and love music, but have no interest in theory or "appreciation" for well-written music: I either like it because it sounds nice or dislike it because it doesn't; I can play it by ear and dissect out all the component parts without ever giving a flying fuck whether it's Mozart or Andrew Lloyd Webber as long as it sounds pretty. When I read I absorb the events quickly and make immediate value judgments based on the quality of the prose, but try to make me pick at the themes or analyze its commentary on [subject] and I will stare at you blankly. My wit is far faster than my brain. And hey, I'm fine with that, but... damn, have I ever been getting shitty grades in seminar. It's the first class I've ever taken where one can't get by on wit.

Conclusion? Perhaps I need to go back to studying French, because its capacity for punnery is absolutely unrivalled.

Unrelatedly, would all the slashy Amis in my head kindly shut up and let me work on the Fantine fic that crept up on me last week? THAT MEANS YOU, COURFEYRAC. I know you want me to write you with... *ticks off on fingers* Enjolras (angsty), Marius (cutensmutty), Jean Prouvaire (angsty), Feuilly (fluffy), Combeferre (replacementsex), and a doppelganger of yourself (crack)--to say nothing of the threesome pairings, you filthy manwhore--but you will have to wait. Yes, you will. Go take out your sexual frustration on a grisette, because you are not getting any of teh ghey until you let me finish my other fic.

Also: Self, please stop spending money already. Overdrawing is bad, and you need to get the car fixed more than you need the Coat of Pure Sex.

Comments

[in-a-greenhouse.livejournal.com]

I don't think about meaning that much either, mainly because I'm a detail not structure-oriented person so for me, one open-ended question begets millions ad infinitum ow brain cramp. I'm aspie, this is how I think, and eventually I learned that slamming my head against the wall comparing myself to other people isn't worth it. Don't be so hard on yourself; I think your prose style is quite lucid, which not all so-called intelligent people can say of themselves (insert convoluted philosophical treatise of your choice here)...putting aside the question of how to define intelligence in the first place, meh. Oh yeah, and this entry is analytical pondering if I ever saw it.
hmm, that was a book.

[10littlebullets.livejournal.com]

*snerk* Next to the analytical pondering we're expected to do on a regular basis in class? Nooooo. Apparently I'm not interrogating Nietzsche from the wrong perspective, I'm simply not interrogating Nietzsche at all. Although, sometimes I think Nietzsche is enough to make anyone on earth feel like a dolt.

A syllogism.

[misentropic.livejournal.com]

If a text does not make any sense, it cannot be interrogated.
Nietzsche's texts do not make any sense.
Ergo, they cannot be interrogated.

[in-a-greenhouse.livejournal.com]

Philosophy! Boh.
Interesting in theory, but makes my reasoning faculties go *flurm.* Dammit Jim, I'm an archivist not a logician.