What Makes "Someone" a "Dumbone"

You can pronounce the title of this blog any way you want. If you're neurotic like I am, you're probably cringing at the fact that it really should be "dumb bone", but ends up sounding more like "dumb one".

Let's writhe together.

Now that we've gotten that out of our systems, what makes an idiot? You're not one, of course, and neither am I... or are we? Before you get offended, consider this:

Did you attend college? Do you listen to cerebral music? Are you a fan of witty movies with immersive, striking cinematography?

Guess what? None of that matters when it comes to how "smart" you are. You want to know what separates you from being smart or not?

It all depends on your ability to put yourself in someone else's shoes.

HA! Ha...

I've known some dumb idiots in my life, a lot of them even had college degrees. What made them dumb was their inability for open-mindedness and stubborn unwillingness to perceive the world as someone else might (this is why bigots are some of the biggest idiots).

To give you a vague example, I've had people send me very personal, hurtful, thoughts via text (which is nothing more than a childish way to digitally throw a tantrum and plug your ears with your fingers, shouting "I CAN'T HEAR YOU! LA-LA-LA-LA-LA!").

Here's a specific example: I had to cancel a date one day because of a massive wave of depression that just washed all over me. I cancelled via phone. The girl who invited me over said she understood. I felt good because I thought this meant I could be open and honest about my issues without any drama.

A few hours later, she texted me a furious, five text long message describing how she's been ruminating and decided, on her own, that I made up my depression to avoid the date. She ended the text with "have a nice life!" and refused to talk on the phone.

There's a keeper.

I'm not saying I'm a genius. I'm obviously not the most socially competent person around. I recently went to a supermarket to return some body wash that, being a veteran of this brand of wash, I knew was off color. Maybe they didn't use enough dye in the coloring process, but I wasn't going to wash with this "mislabeled shampoo".

While driving there, I prepared my reasons as to why I should be able to return the bottle, especially since I'd tossed the receipt. I'd prepared this speech in my head about who I was, and how I always shop at that particular store, and how I, if anyone, should know what the body wash is supposed to look like (in case the cashier decides to counter-argue like this is some episode of Law and Order).

I got in line and waited patiently until the cashier was ready to help me out. Then, it was all up to me. My eight dollars were relying on me, each one of them praying that I was fit for the verbal challenge ahead so we can all be reunited.

"Hi, how are you?" she asked. Her enthusiasm just wasn't there. I don't blame her-- retail drains you from the inside out, especially near the end of the day. She stared at the counter as I talked.

I explained all that stuff about who I am, and what I deserve. But it was too much info.

"You wanna exchange it?" she asked, coolly.

And I realized then what an ass I was being. Here is this middle-aged woman, with her own dreams and aspirations, having to endure an explanation by some semi-young, nervous guy about his off-color liquid soap. It really put things into perspective, at least for me.

The point I'm making is that if you want to have a happy life, you're going to want to be a good communicator. To do that, you have to be able to get out of your own head.

So the next time a driver flips you off on the freeway, the next time someone cuts you off on the road, the next time someone cuts you and everyone else off in a long line, don't let it get to you. Other people may be lost in their own worlds, but that doesn't mean you should be lost in the real one.