Anti-admiration equals. . . ?

I'm in a bad mood, and don't particularly want to write a blog/journal about something happy. I like my bad mood; it makes me feel important. So, in order to remain in this brooding state of disapproval, I am consciously avoiding avenues of thought that I know will lead me towards a brighter directive. I know that "admiration"—or more specifically, "What I, Bonnyjean Hoffert, find admiral"—is supposed to be the subject of this blog, and that the purpose of such a subject is to invite other people into my realm of personal belief(s) and/or dogma(s) of thought. 

I could go on and on about courage, and success stories about people overcoming personal struggles, against all odds, when nobody else believed they could, while drinking club soda out of a licorice straw, while turned upside-down holding the bridge position, while contemplating the aerodynamics of airplanes made of notebook paper. However, that would effectively lift me out of my bad mood, and where'd be the fun in that? Nowhere, I tell you--absolutely nowhere. It would be sad--savage--a travesty forsaking all that I, in this moment, hold low in dark, smoldering disregard. 

Well, heck! This is just a venue for creative expression, is it not? And right now, I want to creatively express my dark, brooding anti-admiration of those people who so artfully maneuver around the fact that perception is r e l a t i v e in order to rally the people into the dangerous realm of "groupthink"—people whose goal it is to bring others to adopt their own, personal "mindthinks" because they believe they are doing mankind a service by 'enlightening the unenlightened'. Here's one example: "English is important." To whom? To what end? Through what means? By whose judgment? (. . . Actually, I believe these questions are advocating fallacious thought, and I abhor that I asked them with such incredulity.) How about this one instead: "Humanity is the most sacred faction of nature". Now, there's a fun one. So, just because we have the brain capacity to reason and logic our way out of sticky situations—like responsibility for man-induced disaster—we are the most sacred part of the planet? Even to the detriment of everything outside our own, personal worlds and avenues of perception? Sacred? 

You know what I admire? I admire people who think outside the box. I know that's a cliché blanket statement, but I mean, what's the use of having a brain if one doesn't use it to question other people's directives? So what if a band of literary bigwigs got together and decided on a standard of theories and concepts and structures for writing that the rest of the academic community is expected to follow! So what if I don’t adopt group-accepted conventions into my personal perception of the planet. However did conventional become a requirement--and when? And. . . how? And. . . and. . . when?! Who stood up and said that conventional was acceptable? Perhaps nobody stood up and said anything, and instead everybody stood down and smoldered quietly at anything that threatened their sacred set of preconceived notions. Maybe it was this act of not acting that allowed convention to take over and slowly choke the creative spark out of most of humanity. 

Well, I’ll tell you what: I’ll fail classes and tank papers while going against convention (not to mention that teachers could perceive me as a pompous, naïve, self-important glob of wasted drive). I’ll lose jobs if I decide to go against the convention of wearing appropriate attire to work, i.e. if I show up in a scanty Halloween costume and the words, “F*CK CHRISTMAS” painted across my face. So what is there left for me to do but to comply with rhetoric, and do assignments the ‘appropriate, conventional’ way that was decided for me by thousands of literary adepts? I’d be lost in a lonely world, even if I surrounded my hobo home with the unconventional. . . like, silly string meant to ward off bad juju. Because then I’m not being ‘unconventional’, I’m plain acting crazy.