Do you ever feel like everyone in the world knows more than you about everything?
Okay. Well, maybe not everyone. But many many people.
I often feel like I’m missing out on some great knowledge, though it only seems to be some vague idea of knowledge and not actually something tangible. Maybe I haven’t read enough books. Maybe I haven’t spent enough hours researching.
It could be my utter lack of being able to articulate my ideas into some sort of coherent sentence. Even in university, my ability to pontificate about the theme of my paper was fairly sparse. And my ability to pull random facts and anecdotes out of my brain is non-existent except for random moments where tidbits about Henry VIII’s wives are not needed.
Does this mean I’m not smart enough to write anything but these weird little rant-y blog posts?
Should I keep all opinions to myself lest I have to defend it with words I don’t have or ideas I can’t seem to bring forth?
Where are those pesky words, anyway? Where do they live in my brain? The inaccessible parts that can’t be reached for the darkness and cobwebs.
What books should I be reading or not reading or thinking about or daydreaming of being one day? Is there a limit to the knowledge one person can cram in one’s brain?
Sometimes I wonder about all the information I could fit into my head if it wasn’t filled with endless song lyrics and cat memes. Would I have more room for discourse on the emergence of the YA genre in the 1940s or how Catcher in the Rye and The Outsiders were the major catalysts of the genre becoming a popular one? Maybe not.
I guess Socrates would be proud of me for admitting my own utter lack of knowledge. The first step to learning is admitting one’s own ignorance.
Well here it is! I know that I know nothing.