{∅, {∅}, {∅, {∅}}} : Rage Against the Meat Grinder

I will not make too great a deal about my so-called "persecutions".  We know that the experts, professionals, and salaried government clerks and officials would be all too quick to mock this as a "persecution complex."   As a teenager, I suspected I had a "Messiah complex".   How can anyone escape "nervous illness" upon being born into the age of psychiatric diagnoses and commercialized psychology?

One benefit about "aging" (not succumbing to suicide or drug overdose at a young age) is that, as this body and brain age, I come to accept myself more, embracing my strengths and not being all too concerned about not measuring up to the brilliant and gifted minds.

I had to get over the resentment of those far more clever than myself in order to proceed with my studies of mathematics in an honest and realistic manner.

I am no mathematical genius.  I am not a genius at all, and, quite honestly, I am not comfortable with being referred to as such, even when the one referring to me in this manner is sincere.  There are those who are fluent in several languages at a young age.  I am not one of these.  I just happen to be an honest and slow thinker, and I think that this is what appeals to you.  This is the quality you define as brilliance.

Holden, I am a mortal man with a slight edge over mediocre minds.  I am far closer to the average intelligence than I am to the "genius category". 

Now, having said that, I must also inject a little of what you term "my brilliance".

I do not automatically defer to the authority of those who speak several languages fluently, nor do I defer to the authority of "great mathematicians" who explain things with a wave of their hands or use confusing and obscure symbols only to leave me baffled.

I have much more appreciation for anyone who is able to explain something difficult to me, and I consider my own efforts to show all my work, every little detail in the computational process, to be in some sense "heroic".

What I mean to say is, I do not carry around huge resentments against the Confederacy of Dunces who do not know any better than to serve their masters, live for the image they make in the heads of others, and mock or persecute those whose thoughts they do not understand.   They kill what they fear.  They mock and ridicule.

Fuuck 'em.

If you write anything about me and my so-called "story," please do not make me out to be a saint or a genius.

Like so many others, I am baffled by the simplest of quandaries, and it does not take much to overwhelm me.

This is why I insist that I be able to study slowly in developing confidence since I have my suspicions that a great many institutions of higher education make a sham of mathematical understanding.   There seems to be this force compelling individuals to go higher and higher before they have any true understanding of more fundamental areas.    I can't help but think so many are full of shiit.


So, I do not want to be one those who are full of shiit, you see?

I would much rather present myself as honestly and sincerely as possible.  This is not false modesty.  I understand that I am brighter than the average gort.  I do not deny this.  I just want to make it clear that I am not suffering from any delusions of grandeur (grandiosity?) or meglomania ... 

Still, after insisting I not be referred to as a genius, I will state that I value my own limited understanding (of math) more than I value that of some super-genius since my understanding is my own and it has been slowly developing.   It is not something that just "came to me".  There is no God who whispers numbers and patterns into my brain.

I think that, once again, our favorite philosophical comedian captures the spirit of what I am awkwardly fumbling to say.   I may not be a genius, but I am definitely not stupid.   And I may babble on and write my share of nonsense, but I really hope that I am never "full of shiit" (I shiit regularly).

On the other hand, I may indeed lean strongly in the direction of being "fuucking nuts!"

 




Often I reach a point during the day when I simply can no longer take myself seriously and must surrender to The Great Tiredness; that is, I follow Senor Raul's wisdom and roll over like a beast and nap.   

Incidentally, this is often the only recourse at one's disposal when confined in a jail or hospital, and it just may be the wisest thing to do when caught in the grip of a bad case of the doldrums when nothing really seems to matter and all we do seems to be in vain.