Creature of Superior Intellect and the Troubles that Plague Them. (A Brief Explanation)
I never asked to be this way. If Mother Nature decided to bestow upon me an abnormally high intellect, a divine ability to compose witty humor, a wealth of unnaturally good looks, who was I to contradict her? It is a curse in its own way I suppose, with all of my fellow humans going on day to day without realizing my gifts and denying the greater meaning of life. It is hard to be superior. Why were certain people such as myself chosen to be so prodigious and therefore forever separated from the intellects of everyone else? It is such a burden to bear. But I must bear it with strength and dignity, as a true intellectual would.
"Conor..." The monotonous drone of my co-worker wrenches me out of my sagacious ponderings and I look over my glasses at her exasperatedly. The majority of my work mates cannot understand the depth of my superior intelligence and my need for deep pondering, and as a result, I am inhibited with socializing with them, though I do try my best to tolerate their ignorance as much as possible.
"Yes, Dorothy?" I sigh deeply at her. She stands with raised eyebrows, her lips twisted in a quirk of bored indifference, her arms folded and a collection of half-hazard documents clutched in one of her fists.
"You've been staring into space for over ten minutes, and I really need to use the printer.” She huffs in a monotone droll. I assess my position, which is directly in front of the office printer, a few documents that I suppose I was collecting are lying in the tray forgotten and I cannot, for the life of me, remember what they are for. But my current physical position is not relevant. It is the philosophically subtle implications of my position that truly matter. I briefly consider whether I should I explain it to her, and, surprisinlgy, find myself in a very gracious mood. I take a deep breath.
“Dorothy, the tedium of life that engulfs us all can be escaped by moments of great sensory magnitudes, it is true,” I explain patiently, raising a pointed finger to the heavens to illustrate my point, “but I myself find the wearisome moments of life the most ripe for philosophical cogitation because the dullness forces the mind to think beyond the elements and make use of the cacophony of boredom that plague us all. To you, I may be simply standing and blocking the printer, but in reality, I am slowly compelling my brain to decipher the meaning of life and discover the mysteries of the universe as well as find my own self. I would not expect you to understand, for I am burdened indeed with my superior mind, but so it is, and so I beg you to understand.” I take a deep breath, winded by my speech, and quite impressed with it too. She raises one eyebrow, disappointingly uninspired, and merely rolls her eyes. She steps in front of me and grab my papers from the tray, shoving them to my chest, then takes her own and feeds them into the tray.
“Well, creature of superior intellect, while you are sitting there ‘discovering the mysteries of the universe’ or whatever you’re doing, our boss is waiting for these files and you are cutting into both of our lunch breaks. I know that the ‘monotony of life’ is fertile soil for your daydreaming and illusions of grandeur, but we adults have work to get done. ” The printer beeps and she collects her papers, giving me one last sardonic look before she clicks away in her too-high heels. I shake my head and sigh. Mere mortals will never understand.