Confessions Of An Intellectual - Autobiography Rel

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Confessions of an Intellectual I never liked introductions. Too much information about a given topic to merely ignore, but too little to really care about. There will be no introduction. Put simply, you don't want to read one, and I don't want to produce one.

I could have a girlfriend right now if I wanted to. But why the hell would I want to? An analysis, perhaps. The pros: security, companionship, knowing you can get some ass whenever you want to, the positive effect being 'taken' has on your sex appeal. The cons: no sense of challenge (this is the big one!), the eventuality that you will grow tired of each others' exclusive company, the necessity to 'break up' your oh-so-intimate bond at some point (which will inevitably make things awkward), she tells her friends how you're some huge asshole once you stop calling her, you start to feel a perverse desire to provide the public with what they expect from you, you misogynist (just give them what they deserve)… lowered expectations across the board.


This is not a difficult choice.

My problem is that nobody out there is good enough for me. They are flawed, not I. How many times must this be repeated before it is believed? I am a fucking rock! Hold on a second: Who is this kid, anyway? Who has any right to assume an intellect (or presence of mind, as you love to put it) so far superior to everyone else? His fatal flaw lies in his inherent absence of objectivity. He is invested in the scenario. Do you understand yet? It is impossible for the mind to transcend its natural boundaries in an effort to rightfully assess the relative qualities of another mind. Still confused? Try relating it to the I.Q. conundrum.