Why Can’t The World Just Recognize My Brilliance?

So there’s a cliché somewhere about how anything worth having is worth fighting for...or struggling for...or being mildly inconvenienced for. Something like that. My point is, however, I think that’s a load of hooey. You know that makes something sweeter? It being easy.

We’re not supposed to talk about these things; we tell our kids “crime doesn’t pay” and “hard work makes the rewards more worthwhile” but it’s all a lie. You know when crime doesn’t pay? When you get caught. You know why a cold drink tastes better after working outside in the hot summer sun than it does after you’ve sat on the couch all day? Because you’re tired and dehydrated. Clichés are what we use to convince ourselves that playing by the rules is worth it.

Now, before you go and get worried I’ve slipped into some sort of uber-cynical coma understand that my outlook isn’t any different today than it was a week ago, but as I prepare to submit an article for publication (and I have to submit a hard copy which seems so 1999--don’t you agree?) I realize that my life would be better if I could just say “World--here is my brilliant article! Take it and love it!” and the World would reply, “Indeed yes. I like what you’ve done here.”

The Suzy Sunshines of the world would say, “you don’t really want that. It feels better when you’ve fought for publication and really worked for it.” I hate the Suzy Sunshines. They’re completely and utterly wrong. You know what feels better? Having my article accepted. The difference in emotion between the first submission and the tenth one happens because after about the third rejection my soul starts to wither and die, and when it finally gets accepted the healing process begins. But that doesn’t make the acceptance sweeter; it just makes it necessary for me not to turn into an uber-cynical crazy person. I now know why so many professors have crazy hair, crazy eyes, and crazy clothes. This life will drive you crazy.

But my latest round of “look at me, I have something to offer the world” has me irritated with all the people that try to make you feel better. You know who tries to make you feel better by offering anecdotes about how your pain and suffering is worthwhile? People who don’t have pain and suffering. Seriously, has anyone whose ever suffered a situation offered some trite piece of advice about how it’s good for you? No. A person whose lived through the situation says, “Yeah...that totally sucks. Nothing for it, but it totally sucks.” I appreciate that person. There’s no silver lining there. No clichés designed to convince you that annoyances, poverty, and lack of job will make you a “better person” in the end. You know what makes me a better person? Being independently wealthy; that’ll make me a better person.

And all of this raises an interesting existential question: do we become compassionate, caring, sympathetic people because we suffer, or if we didn’t suffer would there be no need to be compassionate, caring, sympathetic people? That’s an interesting one. We assume the suffering is good because it teaches you all manner of things about morality and ethics, but what if our consideration for fellow human beings is only necessary because fellow human beings suffer so much? This is, of course, a mute point as suffering (used here to include everything from annoying one floor elevator riders to people with a life like Job’s) isn’t going anywhere. But I find myself short tempered with the very puritanical viewpoint of suffering as good for the soul.

For example, what happens when you recognize the necessity or inevitability of something, i.e. the world has yet to understand my brilliance and so getting a job is going to be difficult, but don’t attempt to view it as a positive thing? What if it is simply viewed as a course of existence, horrible or annoying, and accepted as inevitable? Does it make sense what I’m saying here? I think it makes more sense to approach things that way. At least then there wouldn’t be any Suzy Sunshines trying to convince me that a) it’ll all be okay (cause sometimes it’s not and I get irritated when people just assume it will be) and b) that it’s good for me. A glass of orange juice is good for me. Perpetually high blood pressure due to stress that is occasionally relieved by a small victory is not good for me.

Thank you. I feel better now. Time to go to the post office and send this thing off so one more person can inform me I’m not good enough. But that’s okay--I totally know more about Star Wars, Star Trek, and Twilight then them. We must take our victories when they come.