Sandpaper

Welp.
I wrote something for you:

The problem with being a smart person is that the only thing you trust is your brain.

Hah. “Smart person” is a that you call yourself when you are too ignorant to know that you’re not smart, you will likely argue. Of course I don’t think I’m a smart person. But for some reason I’ve grown up being called the smart one, so I guess we’ll just have to trust those nameless and faceless authorities on intelligence.

And what’s wrong with trusting your brain? It is the reason people think you know things. It’s given you mostly right answers for the number of years that you’ve been on this planet. But it’s also the reason why I just stopped and considered how “it’s” can be a contraction for both “it is” and “it has” but somehow not “it was.” And if I stop to think about how a brain thinks about itself, I’m likely to short circuit like the cylon I am. Is cylon capitalized? I should look into that but I never will. Back to the brain.

At this point we must discuss the virtue of trust. Trust being the belief that the person/thing/idea that you put this trust in will not act in a way counter-intuitive to how you expect it to act. I expect words to form when I push these keys one after another and they do, most of the time. On occasion I get the spinning beach ball of death and the characters do not apparate into place. It is at those very moments that I grow distrustful of this computer. Will it keep doing all it’s promised in the future? How long will it continue being more reliable than not? Or will it do so in parts? Perhaps my word processor will work so I can spill these thoughts while Safari freezes and makes me want to disinter Steve Jobs. Though probably not since The Corpse of Steve Jobs (c) will still likely only be an “ideas man.” Both the Safari browser and Steve Jobs are expected to be able to do it all, but the metaphorical wall that one hits when one recognizes that they can only do some or most is discouraging. It suggests that we, as humans, are wrong to trust that we are to expect all from something to begin with. Where did we get that idea? Did we trust our brains to act how brains, processors capable of interpreting the world, should act?

But what if trust is us learning to expect the action that the person/thing/idea will take? This is the part of the article where I reverse expectations and drop a truth bomb or three. When we feel like trust is broken, it’s because what we expected to happen and what the other entity did were disparate, most likely with both parties doing what they thought was right. How do you resolve this? Do you fall back to the “objective right” and rest your laurels on the platitudes of your forefathers? I don’t really know what laurels are. And if you have, say, learned to expect the expected of your brain, and perhaps it tells you that nothing is reliable, then there will always be subjectivities at play. Given enough motivation, a person may choose to defy even the most objective thing in an attempt to gain the title of “guy who did that.” The sky was just the sky and it was impossible to go into it and float there. But then that happened. Capturing a slice of real life, a perpetual recreation that would serve as authority for all time, sounded like the dreams of children. But all of it happened.

“The smarter a person becomes, the more they realize that they don’t know anything at all,” is how I started this path that I’m on.

I am a smart person. I trust smart brains. I trust the brain to know what’s right. My brain knows that no brain can know every single thing that’s right. My brain knows that every iteration of “right” rests on a foundation of assumptions that are shaky at best. My brain’s authority, therefore, is built on a platform of uncertainty. And if this is the case, how am I to trust my brain?

lady copy
Captain Ladyface.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *