Do you remember me asking you if you have ever heard the saying, "Ignorance in bliss"? I also mentioned that people wonder, if that is the case, why more people aren't happy.
Well I know why, and now is the time to bring it up.
My mother does not seem happy to me. She is always tense, worries non-stop over everything, and does little for herself. She will go out one day and buy me a new dress but gets nothing for herself. I believe that my mother is unhappy.
According to the saying, if you are left in the dark about something you don't have to worry about it, making you happier because of your ignorance.
But only stupid people want to be ignorant.
I should know the mind of a stupid person like I know that the color purple is the best out of every other color, and I do. I was stupid for far too many lives to forget how a stupid person thinks, after all.
This goes well with the fact that nightmares can be good for you. If I had never had the nightmare of me dying by suffocation I would never learn to overcome that fear, and I have. Now that I am no longer ignorant to the fact that death by suffocation is very painful I am happier because I know never to pick that particular method of death again.
Intelligent people are actually happy to become less ignorant, while stupid people want to avoid pain by also avoiding intelligence.
Being intelligent can be painful, and now that I am not stupid I know that and accept it. I would rather be intelligent and know the pains of the world than stupid and live out this life the same way I did others.
I died in all of the other lives because I was stupid, after all. And if death is painful anyway I would rather avoid it by being intelligent enough to know that pain could happen.
More people aren't happy because stupid people do not have the ability to be happy. They only die in the end, and that is why ignorance really is not bliss.
My mother is intelligent. I know this just as I know Ryan is lazy. My mother knows pain and accepts it as a part of life, and for that I have to respect her. I had to have many, many stupid lives just to see that being intelligent is better, while my mother already knew it.
Then again I do not know if she has had past lives like I have, but just the same, she would not remember those lives like I do. She learned from her one life now that intelligence is better and being ignorant will only bring death.
My mother suddenly walks into the living room with a basket of laundry in her hands, unfolded. She sets the basket down on the coffee table –and I do not know why it is called a coffee table as no one in the house actually drinks coffee- and turns off the television that Ryan was watching faithfully.
I hear Ryan make a noise in the back of his throat, about to protest, but I can tell he realizes that protesting to my mother would not be a good idea and stays quiet.
"You two can help me fold these," She says, gesturing toward the basket as she sits down on one of the chairs.
As Ryan reaches to fold a towel my mother stops him, though, and takes the towel from him. "Melissa will be folding the towels. They're the easiest to fold." She hands me the towel and I start folding, knowing already how to do this. Towels are easy to fold and that is why I do not tell my mother that I already know how to fold shirts and other such, more difficult things.
If I have to look seven years old I will act the part. What would be the point if I did not use my age to my advantage, after all?
Yesterday was the day my mother and Aunt Julie went to visit my uncle and I over heard them telling Ryan that my uncle will be able to leave the hospital in only a couple of days. I do not know why my mother insists on keeping me from knowing about my uncle, after all, she knows that ignorance is not bliss. Why would she want to keep me ignorant?
Unless I read too much into her intelligence and she actually does believe ignorance to be bliss. If that is the case I need to find a way to tell her that ignorance is not bliss so that she does not become stupid and die. I know that I cannot just say so, after all, what seven-year-old would? She would not know what to think.
I look over at Ryan suddenly and see that he has folded one of the shirts into nothing more than a ball of fabric. He looks frustrated with the clothing and I can do little to keep my laughter in. I see my mother look up from where she was folding a sheet to stare at me, no doubt wondering why I was laughing so much, before looking over at Ryan and giving a small laugh of her own.
Apparently Ryan has never folded a shirt before.
He hears our laughter and I see him scowl slightly, throwing the shirt on the table and crossing his arms defensively.
"I've never had to fold before; mom always does it," He explains as if that excuses him from not knowing how to fold something so simple. My mother stops laughing to give him a disapproving stare, and I find a little bit of satisfaction in the fact that the stare is not directed at me.
"You can't let your mother do everything for you," She starts off, and I know that it is about to become one of her lectures. "What will you do when you get out into the real world? Tell your boss that you won't be able to make him his coffee because your mom has always done it for you? I doubt your boss will approve."
Ryan's face is red and I can tell that he is embarrassed. "I'm not going to be a secretary!"
My mother sniffs a little. "You will be nothing more if you don't learn to do things on your own." I stop listening as she tells Ryan the importance of independence and helping his mother out around the house and fold another towel. For only four people living in the house we have a lot of towels.
I feel a little sorry for Ryan as my mother then begins teaching him how to properly fold a shirt. She makes it seem very important.
I hear the front door open then and Aunt Julie walks in, apparently coming home from work. I do not yet know where she works but I plan to find out. Ryan is sure to know and he will not mind telling me. After all, he did tell me about my uncle when no one else would. At least he understands the importance of not being ignorant.
Aunt Julie stares in bewilderment at Ryan, who is still folding the same shirt. She looks over at my mother questioningly and I see my mother glare at her.
"You can't have the boy spoiled. He needs to know how to do work around the house. What have you been teaching him? He didn't even know how to fold a shirt," She says, standing up and walking over to Aunt Julie so that she does not have to talk loudly.
"It's my job as his mother to take care of him," Aunt Julie protests, "He washes dishes and makes sure his room is tidy and that's all I ask of him. I can take care of everything else just fine."
"He's not going to grow up if you keep…" My mother starts off, but her voice becomes too far away to hear as both adults begin walking to the kitchen. They seem to always go to the kitchen when they want to argue.
"They couldn't raise a kid together, that's for sure," Ryan comments from where he is still sitting, and I see amusement in his eyes.
I shrug slightly and go back to folding, but realize that there are no more towels to fold. Obviously my mother has forgotten about folding clothes in favor of arguing with Aunt Julie, and it will not get done with only Ryan folding. He folds very, very slowly.
Sighing, I pick up a pair of pants and begin folding.
"You know how to fold pants?" Ryan asks, his tone incredulous. I nod slightly. Of course I know how to fold pants. I've been alive for far too long to not know how to fold pants. Besides, it is not as difficult as Ryan is making it out to be.
"Great," He says and grabs for another shirt, "You can teach me then. I don't want your mom to have to teach me that, too. No offense, but if she can go on for hours about folding a shirt I don't want to see how long she can go on about pants."
He's right and I grin just a little, showing him how to fold the pants I'm holding. Really he should not have to he shown. It's too easy to need instructions on.
Still I show him anyway because he seems to have problems with it, and I can tell that he's happier now that he knows how to properly fold clothes. He is no longer ignorant on the subject of folding and he is happier for it.
Ryan may be lazy, but he is definitely not an idiot.