“They say goldfish have no memory; I guess their lives are much like mine. And the little plastic castle, is a surprise every time.”
~Little Plastic Castles
I think that the older I grow, the less honest I become. I don’t mean that I outwardly lie more frequently, it’s just that where I used to be an outspoken, belligerent prick, these days I’m silent more often than not. That statement is probably odd to those who look at me and wonder, “Christ, if he holds his tongue today, what must he have been like before?” An example will probably work better than a description.
No one likes fragility in their life; the idea we are not in control of our own destiny is mind-numbingly frightening. Example: though flying is inherently the safest form of travel, people on the whole feel more comfortable driving their own car. Sitting on a plane leaves you powerless, at the mercy of a pilot you don’t know and inside a piece of technology you probably don’t understand entirely. When you’re behind the wheel, you believe you have a say in what happens in an accident, this regardless of the fact the word “accident” automatically implies otherwise.
One constant in many John Hughes movies is the out-of-touch parent or adult. Authority figures are often presented as being clueless to the world around them, either blissfully unaware of what it’s like to be a teenager or outright hostile towards the situation. Think of Ferris Bueller’s cheerful yet dim parents. Think of the scolding or neglectful parents at the outset of The Breakfast Club, or the principal in the same movie.
My Mrs. has been going through a fairly stressful few weeks, with one event enough to send my mind wandering down a path of confused questioning: why are morally superior people usually anything but? In most situations, the arrogant person has an unjust ego feeding their self-esteem, using a belief or skill that has been inflated to idiotic levels. I will cite three examples from my dumb life in explanation.