I Am Just Smart Enough to Realize I'm a Moron

Or, Just Some Random Musings

In the current economic climate in the United States, the axiom of “Work Smarter, Not Harder” has seen people play two games especially well in the last decade: investment and influence. For the rest of us, the options aren’t exactly secure in any way, shape or form. And for folks in the seventh ring of Hell like myself, recognizing that we’re kind of brick-level stupid in ways that matter materially and financially, things are hazy, at best. Tends to happen with all of this sulfur in the air…

I performed well enough in school when I was younger, and though I never went to college, I did attend vocational school in New York to receive a certification in Applied Criminal Justice Science. Only recently was this pointed out to me by my brother as ‘post-secondary education’, so my previous statements that I’d never received such has, as he clarified, been wrong all along. Just further proof, folks, that I’m kind of an idiot, I suppose. But this is not a big accomplishment in and of itself, technically little more than the equivalent of an Associate’s Degree. Moreover, I’ve never done anything with that training and background beyond some personal legal research and application of certain knowledge to some of my stories, because, again, I’m an idiot.

And sure, I’ve taken several IQ tests over the years, consistently coming in with scores ranging between 119 and 122. All that means is that, academically speaking, I am just barely above average in terms of raw mental ability. I should come across as fairly intelligent, but let me tell you folks, it doesn’t feel that way, most times. I’ve spent a lot of time reading from and talking to folks who are WAY brighter than I am, so I know that I’m relatively low on the totem pole in most of the circles I associate with. I believe the popular term these days is ‘midwit’.

Pair this with a raging case of ‘slipping in and out of awareness of what is and isn’t real’ thanks to misfiring neuroelectrical signals in my brain (paranoid schizophrenia), and you are left with a guy who, on paper at least, should be doing a whole lot better in life, socio-economically speaking, than he is.

This is not a piece intended to come across as some sort of self directed pity party, don’t get me wrong. It’s more an effort on my part to explain why it is that, some days, I seem to have a pretty decent grasp on current events and socio-political situations, and can then turn around and give a dogshite take on some other situation or circumstance that leaves one wondering if I remembered to have the hamster running the wheel in my skull turn the alarm on last night, or if the chubby little shitstain is still snoozing away in the corner of the place.

Maybe the goblin living up there with him slipped some extra melatonin into his water container…

It’s also my endeavor to explain why it is that, despite having access to the means for making more videos on YouTube and Rumble on a broader variety of topics, including news of the day and my takeaways on such things, I tend not to. Between having four kids at home, a full time job, home projects around the house and property, reading, and writing whenever I have the chance, you might be forgiven for assuming that the biggest part of the ‘why’ is that I just don’t have time. While my opportunities are indeed constrained by these factors, however, they aren’t the biggest contributing factor.

Being a self-aware midwit is.

Someone among you may very well be thinking, “But Josh, people give ice cold or absolutely braindead takes on everything under the sun on YouTube and Rumble and Twitch, etc. Why shouldn’t you?” My response to that inquiry is simple: that isn’t my bag. I am a genre fiction storyteller and genre fiction and mythology wonk, period. On the uncommon occasions when I stray outside of these arenas, I tend to get extremely self-conscious about what I have said after the fact, because I am aware that, in most areas of importance in the current day and age, I’m kind of an idiot.

I can do some basic plumbing work, enough to take care of the most of the sinks and the toilets in my home. I know just enough about residential electrical handiwork to update and/or maintain the outlets, feed lines, and breakers in my home. Sort of the whole ‘Jack of all Asses, Master of None’ sort of thing, you know? Just skilled enough for the basic home maintenance tasks that a responsible homeowner should learn at some point, but not skilled or knowledgable enough to handle it when things really have a major breakdown, if you catch my meaning. I’m learning more all the time from my father-in-law, God bless him and his patience with my foolishness.

Where being a midwit has done me the most notable and significant harm over the years, however, has undoubtedly been in my efforts as an author. I’m right next door to useless when it comes to marketing or selling myself and my work. I’m confident enough in my efforts to say that I would rate myself a skilled storyteller, yes. But I’m not confident enough to promote my own material over the works of other colleagues in the field, or the household names. Do I want people to read/listen to/buy my commercially available works? Absolutely, yes! Will I go out of my way to shill my own merchandise and extoll the virtues of picking up and reading my work over those of other worthy storytellers?

No.

Because I’m a moron, as I’ve mentioned a few times now.

I intellectually, academically understand many of the tried-and-true tactics of basic salesmanship, folks, don’t misread me. As for applying that understanding in a practical, tangible way, though? Forget it. My own personal ethics/morals get in my way, and I’m just smart enough to understand that they would work to my benefit, but I’m not quite smart enough to set aside my own sense of shame were I to indulge in most such tactics.

It’s wishy-washy, and self sabotaging behavior. I really should cease indulging in it, yet, midwit that I am, here I am, keeping company with my beloved wife and children in our humble home, trying to remember to routinely take my risperdal and push aside the whispers and fuzzy visions that creep into my daily observations so that I can remain a mostly reasonable and responsible father and husband and taxpaying worker.

There’s a purpose here to all of this self-flaggelation, and I suppose I should quit procrastinating and dive more swiftly toward it. After all, our good friend Poxy is giving me the evil eye, and there’s nothing quite like getting the ‘get on with it’ look from a floating skull hovering in midair thanks to the beating of the half-rotted bat wings stapled to the sides of it and a queer kind of spinal cord/scorpion’s stinger combination depending off of its backside, one glaucoma-hazy eyeball still rolling around in one of the sockets. The purpose is this, to pose to you, my good and deeply appreciated readers and/or listeners, the following question; do you believe it would behoove me to make more material of a ‘daily events’/personal commentary nature? Or should I remain content to post and comment sporadically, keeping mostly to sharing my fiction efforts?

I’d genuinely be interested in your feedback. It’ll quiet down the whispers in my skull for a while, and perhaps convince me that being a midwit isn’t the end of the world.

P.S.- I am well aware that this sort of piece might well alienate some of my more recent subscribers. There's nothing I can really do to change that, other than to continue not saying what’s on my mind.