I really wasn’t motivated to write at all today. That’s usually the case when I haven’t slept enough. Surprise. But luckily there is the black gold in the morning. By the way, it’s quite amusing that I gave this whole thing the title “The Morning After” [again, that changed], although at the moment it’s the exception rather than the rule whether I’m awake in the morning at all. I went to bed today about the time I got up for the first time yesterday. My sleep rhythm is super weird, often enough I don’t understand it myself. Which is not without irony, because I have written a lot about sleep research and sleep problems in the past months. Obviously, it is always easier to give advice to others than to follow it yourself. Because if you were to do that, you would be facing exactly this very problem: doing it. Implement. Begin. Just do it. That’ s what I wrote yesterday, right? Isn’t it fascinating how extremely different one’s own motivation potential can be depending on how much one sleeps? “That’s normal”, I instinctively hear the voice of my best friend in my head. Maybe, but normality can be very exciting. No, this is not going to be a monologue about how super special I am and that the world just doesn’t understand me and everything is totally complicated anyway. Only dead fish swim with the stream. There it is again. This Instagram wisdom. What’s so bad about belonging to the mainstream? Does THE mainstream exist at all? Or isn’t it rather the case that innumerable side-currents exist, which sometimes flow together for a while, but later separate again? One could say, for example, that it is part of the mainstream that vaccinations are a useful thing. “But, but,” says the vaccine sceptic with a raised index finger, “you should take a critical look at vaccination. Things are injected into you, with names that nobody can pronounce. And the damage caused by vaccination? Does nobody think of the damage caused by vaccination?”
I don’t know, must I? I don’t care. That’s all so gaga. I can quite understand why one wants to differentiate oneself from others. Really, I can relate to that quite well. I used to think most of the people around me were idiots. Today I know that I was correct. Ha. Gotcha. For a short moment somebody must have thought something like “Oho, he used to think that and now the big insight arose that he was wrong?” Wrong idea. However, I understood something else. I am simply stupid in a different way. Basically, it’s okay to be an idiot. It only becomes problematic when you try to explain to other people why this is a good thing. In case of doubt, I prefer to trust those people who actually understand something about a certain thing and not just pretend to be qualified experts. We all want to keep up the pretence. Nobody likes to be wrong. The feeling of not knowing something and publicly losing face is like my personal limbo. That is the cruel ambivalence of criticism – it is as necessary as it is insufferable. Sometimes I wish I could always recognise all my misdemeanours myself and would not need any external help. But as life once taught me: forget it.