Oddly enough...

[jetpack_monkey]

I'm sick of being pretentious.

Soak that in for a while, because it doesn't mean exactly that, but it sure would be fun if it did.


I want to be an intelligent, interesting, witty person with fascinating things to say about the world, my life, and popular culture. My favorite journals are people who simply write well - for example, thepessoptimist is always a delight and a half to read, because she takes simple life occurences and turns them to laugh out loud humor, and sometimes, the funny breaks your heart. Dare you to read about the bear costume without sniffling. Dare you.

I like being perceived. I fear it, too, but some part of me will always be watching out for whoever might be watching me.

I'm a writer. I observe people. I observe strangers on a bus. Friends at a restaurant. Family in front of the television. I look at people, look through them. I try to figure out, from whatever amount of information I can glean from the person, who they are, what their story is, what it is they aren't telling anybody.

Naturally, I assume that if I'm watching the world, it must be returning the dubious favor in kind. We always believe that others are, at the very least, capable of doing as we do.

And so I play for the world. I set up little Monday posts with bullet points about my life and little tidbits of information that I've gleaned, or meaningless opinions that I've formed, and I say this in a pompous voice that says, "Oh, look, aren't I so *interesting*? Aren't you *interested*?" And the thing is, is that it doesn't sound much like me at all.

Jen commented the other day that my journal entries don't sound like me. The disconnect between how I communicate out loud and on the page, it would seem, was rather large. This bothers me greatly because my greatest strength as a writer has always been my highly personal, naturalistic writing style, or so I've been told before.

Now, don't get me wrong - I'm still a pretentious asshole. That doesn't change. Although, I would argue that I've earned my chops enough in the film world that my opinion is no longer ostentatious so much as simple cinematic snobbery.

What makes this all the more difficult is that I'm floundering a bit right now. Between assignments (going in to meet with Kelly this afternoon), tired, dealing with certain issues brain-wise, and wholly isolated in the urban enviroment (I live in a big city, I always wanted to live in a big city... now what?).

And in the midst of all of this, I'm afraid. I've been told my entire life that I'm intelligent. Brilliant. Genius level. And while some of this is actually attributed to the misconception that a high verbal ability early in life and a few standardized tests tell you anything about anybody, it still becomes something you define your life around. You are the Smart One. You must be, at all times, Intelligent, Witty, with a lot of Interesting Facts and Intriguing Commentary. And I can't do it. I can tell you all about the themes and layers to John Carpenter's Halloween, but I can't say anything relevant.

I'm afraid to do anything in my life for fear that it won't be the New Genius of the 21st Century.

So I fall back to pretentiousness. I tell you how smart I am, because then maybe you'll believe it. And I'm not that smart. Or I would be, if I could keep track of anything in this paper maelstrom known as my brain. But I can't. And I'm not. I'm just a guy who knows something about movies and Buffy.

And someday? That'll be enough. I'll be good with it.

Until then, I'm still watching the Boy Genius die in my arms. It's painful, and it's ragged, and he slips off in bits and pieces, screaming out that he's still the smartest one in the room, and he could prove it if you would only talk about things he can be better than you at.

I've wasted so much of my life being brilliant. I just want to be me.

Now this? This is not a cry for sympathy. This is not a call for hugs. I will get both anyway because I have amazing friends.

This is just... I don't know. A state of my union. I'm going through a rough patch right now, and I'm going to try my best to be honest about it, through and through.

I will be honest now. I can't promise I'll be open - somewhere down the line, I developed an actual sense of discretion, however faulty - but I'll be honest.

Comments

[thepessoptimist.livejournal.com]

I think that it's easy to get caught up in what is supposed to be clever or witty or smart, but often it ends up coming across as over-determined and self-conscious.

This is about my personal writing experience, not about your writing. Just to clarify. Not to come off sounding like a rube or anything....

[jetpack-monkey.livejournal.com]

Meh. It's a pretty universal sentiment, and it's a fair judgment of my own work, intended or no, so it's all good.

And yeah... you have excellent points all around. There's a different kind of intelligence that comes from admitting you can be a moron. It's certainly more interesting, I feel, than the pontificating on the Nature of Things - which is why I enjoy your journal so much.

Er, not that you are a moron. Or that you come off as one. Or, uh, uh, uh...

Look! A squirrel! *runs*

[thepessoptimist.livejournal.com]

*blink*

Hmm. Where'd he go?

Hey, waittacottonpickinminute. I'm a whatsit?