Confessions of a Second-Rate Mind

Confessions of a Second-Rate Mind

Recently, I found myself drawn to Woody Allen’s essay, “Random Reflections of a Second-Rate Mind.” I liked the title; I can relate to random thoughts, but I hated the idea of relating to Allen himself. I dislike him on a personal level. I have trouble condoning the behavior of a grown man who refuses to ignore his animalistic urges and sleeps with his teenage step-child. But perhaps Allen had some clue as to what he was doing considering that the latest Hollywood tabloid reports that he and his step-daughter/wife have just had a child together, and are doing well. I won’t speculate, but I have put aside my issues with his personal life, and have found common ground. I too, have random thoughts, and often take the “free association” approach in my writing. But what really got me with Allen’s essay is that all the random thoughts he includes, were all inspired by one chance meeting with a Holocaust survivor in a trendy New York Restaurant. Allen’s analysis of this man began, and I was hooked: As I eavesdropped, I wondered: If an angel had come to see him [in the concentration camp], when he was scheming desperately not to be among those chosen for annihilation, and told him that one day he’d be sitting on Second Avenue in Manhattan in a trendy Italian restaurant amongst lovely young women in designer jeans, and he’d be wearing a fine suit and ordering lobster salad and baked salmon, would he have grabbed the angel around the throat and throttled him in a sudden fit of insanity? Talk about cognitive dissonance! (22). This little passage did two things to my mind. First, I recalled countless times when I could not have even tried to predict a positive outcome to a given situation, much less a fu...

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... personal life? Why did the doctor perhaps since a kind ear, or even a kindred spirit in my friend? Is it merely that we all seek the comfort of a listening ear at certain times, or is it perhaps that we are indeed meant to have these encounters? I don’t know the answer, but I do know that I am inspired in many ways by other people. I would not have “random reflections” if my daily activities were textbook consistent. I embrace the unexpected, the wandering off the beaten path, the unpredictable, the spice of life. I have often thought that the usual routine breeds complacency, and more routine, and I do not wish to be complacent. And so I will continue to welcome conversation from toothless drunks, and stories from friends, and even the occasional sleepless night when my mind works like a never-ending movie reel, and hope that it is all part of a much larger plan.