The menace of mediocrity

A few things I need to get out of my system. I need to see them here because I will re-read them many years from now, hopefully I’ll still be alive and well enough to read, and think “Gosh I did have a lot of things to keep my mind busy didn’t I?” Mostly useless things I guess.

I recently had another almost fallout with a friend. One of those friends that date back to the University years, and whom I cared deeply about, despite not having seen him in, who knows, fifteen years perhaps?

He was one of those people who always wrote eloquently and so it didn’t really matter, when we got back in touch and we wrote nothing had really changed. However, recently he was shocked and angered by a common friend’s behaviour. It turns out, after many emails investigating the matter, he had been shocked to discover a person whom I’d known since always. Goods and bads. Somehow, for some reason, he’d only seen the good? Or perhaps his own constantly altered state had allowed to focus only on those aspects of my friend that everyone loved and cherished, those that glowed and shone before they got frightened away by his darkness?

I saw a glimpse once, knew why he was showing it to me, lovingly but determinedly kept him away for a while. He nevertheless retains his light, even after seeing his darkness.

If I were to narrow down my interests and passions, I would say it’s my people. The people I choose to maintain an interest in despite time going by: I have met so many people, mostly I just move on and lose interest, I would never to keep up the intense relationships that inevitably arise with all of them, and, admittedly, I just lose interest.

What shocks me, and disgusts me, on the other hand, is absolute mediocrity. It’s the inability to stretch your mind. It’s the steadiness of interests and thoughts. It’s immobility and predictability. I have a serious problem with it, as much as you could imagine someone violently hating someone, like my friend hating our common friend with such force and violence, I never feel that towards anybody who has harmed me in any way, I usually feel that (because I have indeed felt it before, though for shorter times, thanks to my ability to move on and change scenarios, interests and so on, though I wouldn’t call it Hatred per se) with people who are just there. Who are not bad enough to be interesting, not good enough to be redeeming, they are just there and they irritate me. I bore myself talking about it, but I cannot stop. And I don’t know how to deal with it. I “broke up” with my Buddhist master before I could ask him how to deal not with people who do you harm, as that was never really a problem for me, but with people who are just… unpleasant.

The feeling I cannot get away from with them is almost (almost) as bad as the feeling of receiving a travel document that didn’t allow me to travel beyond the boundaries of Italy, without the consent of my fucking ex-husband. It killed my soul more than many other horrible things the git had personally done to me himself.

So no, friend I almost fell out with, it’s not the need for conflict, for problems to solve, that drives me completely up the wall. It’s the lack of movement, the lack of flow, the being prevented from changing what I dislike, from changing my scenery. Having to be forced to look at something I don’t like. That, dear friend who may even have access to this post if he chooses to read it and if he remembers I already shared the password with him a while back, when we still trusted each other completely, that is the real torture for me. And I wish knew how to deal with it, because a time may come when I really can do nothing to prevent it, and then what will happen to me? Will I run and bang my head against the wall of some asylum?

There, now I let it out,

I can continue being happy and relaxed and writing my novel šŸ™‚


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