six.two

Everything is set up to go. It's just a bunch of anxiety now. I've got six or seven weeks before I can afford to quit my job. My editor expects the same from me - stories about education, stories about selectmen meetings and eagle scouts. Whatever there is to do. But I'm so flighty it's like senioritis all over again.

Haven't been getting out too much, except to watch G's open mic performanaces. Next week we may be playing a song we wrote together. It's true G has got me comfortable singing, and singing and playing together. I did go out a bit last weekend though. I got a latenight call from on old friend (had a falling out with him, but it seems now we're back in business). So I made my way to a party on Prospect, an old stomping ground. There were people hanging out on the porch, people inside with the music. I was surprised to see so many new faces. The night lead to some interesting conversations. One young man, Andrew, and Bob, who lived at the house and I got into talking about nature/nurture and the question of intelligence. Andrew's stance was that base IQ is totally genetic and out of our control, like eye color or skin color. I think Bob argued that IQ is learned through upbringing.

It makes sense to me that that a person's baseline IQ would be an unchangable element. Not that that doesn't mean whatever i ntelligence we have can't be applied a million ways. But I think Andrew's point was that we discriminate against people based on their intelleigence, and that's just as bad as any other kind of discrimination. It's true we do that. Society rewards intelligence with fat paychecks and respect. Is it fair? Is their even an alternative? Communism? I don't know.

Another thing, if you see a person in America who doesn't speak good English, chances are the majority is going to brush them off as stupid, get quick with them and impatient. But turn the situation around, put an American in any non-English Speaking country, and he's the stupid one. Don't know if that relates, but it's interesting, too, how much communication is supposedly indicative of intelligence.


Changing the subject, I've been reading a lot lately and I'm growing increasingly critical of writers using psychiatrist/psychologist chatacters to get at some of the main philosphy of their writing. It seems like a cop-out almost. Instead of finding subtle ways to get it in the story, just blurt it all out through one character whose job is meant to be analytical. Seems too easy. I've been reading DFW's "The Broom of the System" and read Z.Z. Packer's "Drinking Coffee Elsewhere." Both did this. I want to write a scene into a story where it's just a bunch of psychiatrists locked in a room attempting to analyize each other, or something like that.

But then, thinking about it more, I realized the sad truth of life is that, those offices are often the only plaece people go to talk about this stuff. We don't go to friends or neighbors anymore, because all our problems are considered so bad and taboo that the only people we're not ashamed to talk to (and some still are) is doctors. So maybe these authors who use psychiatrist characters are being true to life (in addition to using an easy way out.)