Palmistry

Ugh, just not my day today. Waited a full hour before being seated for dinner, then had a terrible waiter who mostly ignored us all night, ended up with walking for a good hour across something like 1/6 of Paris to find a cab at 2 am. Come on, I don't think it's unreasonable to expect to find a cab in a major city at 2 am.

Anyway, not feeling up to agonising over myself today, so I'm just gonna do a quick update. I've thought about it a little, and I really shouldn't have kids in future. Seriously, it would be a terrible idea. If they're anything like me, they're totally screwed. I have no particular talents, and while I am one of the smartest people I know, intelligence does not rest easily with me.

Some people are comfortable with their intelligence because it is directed. They are brilliant at math, or music, or with letters, or they can solve problems very well, or something like that. My mode of intelligence is really nothing more than a lucidity of mind. I see things clearly when I care to, and that is really just painful. I am able to figure out so much that I leave nothing to the imagination. Every detail, every flaw is laid out before my gaze, and I cannot accept things for what they are. Now, it might be a useful thing to be able to do, but the problem comes when I see myself as well as the world. Yes, I think that is the problem here. Most people have their intelligence turned outwards, focused and directed towards the world. The mind is put to work solving problems, finding things, creating. Even when introspection occurs, it is of the self-searching sort. There is an expectation of what to find, and it is usually found. Even if what is expected is not found, there is generally an acceptance of what is there. When I look inwards, I see so much that is wrong and puzzling. And I cannot simply accept it. I cannot truthfully say that others should accept me for who I am, since I can hardly accept myself the way I am. Still, I am who I am, and that will never really change.

I cannot be bothered to explain the dichotomy here, perhaps some other time, since I'm tired, and I need another Coke. Suffice it to say for now that my intelligence is of a very uncomfortable sort, the type that makes it impossible to truly have any sort of contentment or happiness in life.

I've been told that my palm lines show that I will not have a lot of money, but will be happy in life. I think I've been lied to.