What is the source of my visceral disregard and even agitation at times towards all things popular? Why, when a plurality of people finds joy in a thing, do I find the banality of that pleasure to be a bludgeoning device meant to wreak havoc upon my intelligence? I cannot enjoy popular songs, television, or works of fiction that the masses enjoy, as my bias has been skewed towards believing that the affinity for the popular is an indication of just how debased the thing must be.

The affected personas of those who have assimilated the influence of the media appear devoid of a true self and mostly reflect fragments of the zeitgeist. Visual externalities and displays of pop culture references don’t convey any deeper intrinsic values of who a person is or how they are developing beyond becoming a cartoon billboard of their superficial interests.

The intellectual playground can only be exercised by conversation, and far too often, I find that many people are playing in buffoonery and don’t have much depth to share. This results in my own isolation and feelings of alienation, where I grow hostile at the status quo. A contradiction arises here where, on one hand I want to belong, but on the other, I don’t want to lower the expectations of myself in order to find common ground with the masses.

Why do I believe I’m so different that I proffer this elevated image of who I think I am? I am curious, but not as much as I would like to be. Every day, I attempt to learn something or express myself, hoping to discover a thought I hadn’t previously known. This isn’t enough, though, because I sense I have more to gain if I could muster a better focus to channel this curiosity into more refined skills. Though I see myself having this curiosity, I fail to glean even a hint of that spirit of exploration in most others that I casually encounter.