In terms of intelligence, I consider myself to be somewhat above average and yet… AND YET. There are some things, just, some of those things that, even when someone explains them to me, my brain tends to implode upon itself and I’m left there with drool coming out of my mouth, pointing at the shiniest thing. Or, you know, I just nod like I understand, but really? I have no for serious clue what the person is talking about and I don’t want them to think I’m an imbecile so I’m all, “Yeah, totally, astrophysics, totally, aced that class, no big.” I DIDN’T EVEN TAKE ASTROPHYSICS BECAUSE WHY WOULD I? MY BRAIN. MY POOR BRAIN.
Here’s a list of things that I don’t understand, even though people have sat me down, put a beer in front of me, and took it upon themselves to make me understand. Much to their chagrin, my eyes proceeded to gloss over or I reached for my phone and was all, “Mmhmm, yeah, definitely listening… sure… go on, yep yep yep.” I realize that this might make me seem like an asshole, but would it make you feel better if, instead of an asshole, we assumed I was just kind of dumb? Okay. Great. Let’s go with that.
See, there’s this map of the world on the wall of our apartment. And, every time I look at that goddamn map, I think, “WHAT IS RUSSIA!” Because, I don’t understand what Russia is. Like, it’s so big and it’s in two different continents and it seems pretty cold and I mean, who lives there? Who actually lives in Russia? I just don’t understand. It’s so big. That’s what she said. But seriously, so big. And it was the Soviet Union at some point, but I don’t even know and there was a Cold War, but my ability to retain historical knowledge has been damaged potentially by whiskey, so really, at the end of the day, I’m very confused about the state of Russia and what its purpose is. Oh god. Please don’t kill me, Russians. Seriously, I come in peace. Well, I’m not actually in Russia, nor will I be there at any point in the near future, but when I do eventually go to Russia, I’ll come in peace. I think. Or maybe they’ll ban me because of this blog post. I can’t be entirely sure.
See, I have a love slash hate relationship with LOST. I was convinced to watch this show and spent a considerable amount of time catching up on all the many upon many episodes over a specific Spring Break in which I apparently had no life to attend to. I caught up on that Spring Break to Season 4 and all it left me was headaches, terrible eye strain and questions concerning polar bears, Dharma Initiatives and something or other about time travel. Since that Spring Break, I continued, faithfully, to keep up on LOST and you know what LOST? I’D LIKE MY GODDAMN THOUSANDS OF HOURS BACK. Because, now the show has ended and it was terribly unfulfilling and people keep being all, “Wait, you didn’t get the ending? Whoa! Here’s what happened…” And then my mind just stops functioning and I want to smack the person who is trying to explain LOST to me, because MY BRAIN CANNOT COMPUTE. In my world, time travel and parallel universes and maybe purgatory or basically MAGIC doesn’t exist. So, my brain, being rooted completely in reality, cannot comprehend an island in which people can live forever and potentially turn into monsters made of smoke. I’m sorry. It’s just not possible. Kiss kiss no bang bang.
Geometric theories? Finding the areas of arbitrary shapes? Yeah, bro, that class was super useful. All day I’m calculating the areas of triangles and squares. ALL DAY.
4. How any of the following actually work: television, internet, radio
Nope. No clue. Don’t even try.
5. Why people like Jack Johnson
He’s terrible. He’s boring. And EVERY SINGLE SONG SOUNDS EXACTLY THE SAME. Every single song sounds like something you’d listen to while high on a beach lounging in a hammock in Hawaii. Which is cool for like, the two times I’ve been to Hawaii, but all other days? No. His music is so impractical and stupid and don’t even link me to a song you think I’ll really like, because I promise you, I have been through this with diehard Jack Johnson fans and what ends up happening is they run out of the room crying, clutching their precious CD, yelling, “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND JACK JOHNSON!” And then I go back to listening to good music, like Kings of Leon and Bon Iver and people who are actually talented and not just potheads on a beach with a fucking ukelele.
Whoa, Jamie, have an opinion. Jeez.
Okay, all of you sexy people out there. Tell me. What things do you not understand? Maybe I will understand them and it will make me feel triumphant and superior. Or maybe you’ll just list off a lot of things I also don’t understand and I’ll feel even more like a jackass. Guess we’ll see! GOD I CAN’T WAIT.