Lazapathy

The semester is starting to wind down, and I'm getting the uneasy feeling that the walls are starting to crumble down around me. I haven't really studied anything- not that I ever do- and I've got oodles of papers and projects to complete.

The thing is, it's hard for me to care.

If I could somehow rip this apathy out of my soul, I could probably place it in a tent and charge people two and a half bucks to look at it. It would be that impressive. Pretty soon, there'd be lines like at the end of Field of Dreams. People would walk in, stare in wonder, and walk out saying, "Damn, I thought I didn't care. Compared to that shit, I'm the personification of Winston Churchill and Mother Theresa singing 'Kumbaya'".

In that regard, my intelligence (though it's quite trite to say it) is both an intelligence and a curse. It's not even that I'm that smart- it's just that most of my fellow classmates are morons. Things I take for granted, like writing a grammatically correct sentence from time to time, utterly escapes them. It's kind of sad. As a result, I'm one of the only able-bodied runners among a field of peg legs and war amputees. They try hard, but the exigencies of their situation inevitably drag them down. Helen Keller might can say "water" with dramatic effect, but it's understood her career as a sniper would probably be a short-lived one.

As a result, I can lounge around for hours on end while they're hobbling toward the finish line. They'll outline, categorize, delineate, and memorize every little fact and facet of what they think needs to be learned. The only problem is, they never learn it. It's almost as if they throw a bunch of bricks around in the air, and then expect to find a finished house. Some of them treat the library as a veritable monastery, yet if you ask them a question out of their rigid knowledge-based comfort zone they have an aneurysm. Ah, such is life, I suppose. Sometimes I think that they scurry to the source of truth, simply because they don't understand it and hope to hide in its shadows.

Some of them will do better than me, that's for sure. I'm by no means the smartest person in my class, and I'm probably one of the laziest. But experience and statistical analysis all bear out the aforementioned contention that I can stick my thumb up my ass and still beat out 85% of the competition. Which, considering it takes almost no effort, is a worthy cost/benefit calculation.

And, yes, this is hubris- overweening and overextending pride. But my fatal flaw is hubris, not the exposition of that which I am proud about. In that I also speak the truth, much as Odysseus spoke the truth when he dared to question Poseidon. So I will speak against the waves of decorum and storms of distaste in my quest for my future- cohorts be damned.

The "curse" part is quite simple- I'm scared to let this beast of a brain run free, for fear of abject failure. (Yes, I do turn this searing laser of truth toward myself from time to time.) I'm good with the occasional bon mot, and can even string along an extended metaphor with some degree of dexterity. But that's about as impressive as a bearded lady- all shock and no wonder. It's simply easier to entrench my latent talents within my hoary flesh, secretly hoping I'm good enough to be great, than to actually attempt the feat. In that regard, I'm hopelessly pathetic. However, it's worked so far. As mentioned above, I'm pretty damn impressive at being slightly better than most.