Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Quite why I spend more time than is healthy casting an oar into the incredibly long list of mental disorders, I am not certain I really wish to know. It becomes the mind's equivalent to a medical encyclopedia, through the pages of which it is easy to wonder and come away determined to do something useful in the two days of life or sanity which remain. The alternative of course is to pretend there is nothing identifiably wrong with me, that I am the standard by which others should be compared. It's philosophers and thinkers, God and his priests, scientists and their students who struggle with the view that all things within the panoply have a reason or a 'because' attached to them. Which is a disorder you can call 'intellect' if you wish to.