Sometimes, people really do say things that are inspiring. Things that make you think. Things that say say "Hmmm..." out loud.
I've been completely frustrated with every aspect of life lately. Especially people. Not all people, of course, but it is safe to say that 7.4 and out every 10 I see on the street will make me want to shoot a line of coke (I'm not even sure that's what you do with coke...) just because I hear them say things like "Oh my god, totes rocking out with boy bods tonight with you at bangin' partay of four please," or "I'm dying. My roots have grown in. I'm dying. I have have homework for like, two of my classes. I'm going to kill myself." These are totally, oh, excuse me, totes real-life quotes, if you had any inclination to believe otherwise.
I always compare my troubles to the troubles of others. Your binge drinking will never compare to my brother's drug addiction, and your boyfriend dancing will another trollop to "your song" at the club last night can't hold a candle to my parent's separation. I don't really mean to do that. Or maybe I do. But it happens, regardless.
Yesterday, in class, when I would usually be paying close attention and taking notes like it would pay my rent, I was completely zoned out. There was fly (kind of a big one) doing interesting air configurations just above my desk, and my cuticles needed genuine attention. But something my professor said caught my attention.
"We all speak the same languages, but no one can understand each other. We are all on different levels of understanding. No one can fully understand anyone else's sense of pain."
I'm not exactly sure what I did in the next few minutes (after the class I noticed the cuticle on my left index finger was bleeding a little), but I couldn't think of anything else. I've always believed that people functioned on different levels of understanding in all aspects of life, but I only ever thought about general, somewhat obvious things. For example, the food industry. Some people are curious to know what goes into their bodies, so they investigate, and find that more than 70% of beef in fast food restaurants is washed in ammonia to kill the festering e coli, which results from feeding cows corn instead of grass. I'd venture to say that the majority of these people are vegetarian, or have all-organic diets. The "other" level of understanding is the VAST majority of consumers who stuff themselves with whatever food they are told to do so with, thanks to mass media, which whether they deny it or not, has brain washed them.
That is just one example, but I never thought of applying that concept to things like feelings - particularly the gloomy kind, like depression, pain, stress, suffering, etc. Are my family problems, depression, hefty academic schedule and extracurricular work loads really equivalent to the CRAP other people blame for their SO CALLED shitty lives? It kind of scares me to think this. I'm not saying that one person's problems are any greater or lesser than anyone else's - the death of a loving pet for Susie in Alaska may be just as traumatic as Alice getting a call that her entire family was killed in a drive by shooting (and today's lesson is brought to you by the word: morbid).
BUT - I do believe that some people's "problems" are simply easy excuses for personal faults, and displaced feelings for things they don't want to admit. The girl in my film class who said, "I was so stressed after the party last night. It's like, how was I even supposed to know he was banging Alisha? I couldn't focus on anything..." is probably just channeling the fact that she chose to party instead of do her homework into guilt, and displacing that guilt onto something else because she doesn't want to admit she didn't make the right choice. Bitch.
Or maybe I'm just completely wrong. Maybe I'm displacing my own frustration from the fact that I don't understand anyone else's problems (or what they perceive to be problems based on their "level of understanding"), onto the assumption that my problems overhead those of many others. Maybe her party life REALLY IS as stressful and painful to her as brain cancer is to the guy sitting next to her.
Or maybe I'm just right.
I'm tired of asking myself this now. It will just be another one of those things that no one understands.