A friend commented on the previous post that the 30s is a time for realizations. I tend to agree with that notion. Well, I guess I’ve had a few of those heading into 30 and that’s the point of this blog series. I say “series” like it’s official or something. It’s official in my world. Let’s just leave it at that. I’ve noticed that something about structure inhibits the freedom to express. Now that I’ve committed to writing for the next couple of weeks, the desire to actually do it is fading. Curse structure!
Onto the topic at hand. There is this song called “Bastard” by Ben Folds that has some serious truth in the chorus and so worth repeating here:
Is it me or does it feel like the more you know, the less you know? I don’t know when this thought settled into my thick head in the last couple of years, but I’m realizing lately that I am not always right. (::GASP::) Yeah, I said it. Even as I type this, I am resisting the urge to hit that backspace button a couple of sentences to erase those words into oblivion. But no, I will leave it, because that is my main point, and where would I be without a main point? Just writing and writing without a purpose… which isn’t a bad thing, but would defeat the purpose of my reflections for this entry.
Okay, I’m back.
Life is cruel, sometimes. It gives you all these truths and experiences… and then slaps you in the face and goes, you don’t know much, if anything at all. I have yet to determine why I have had a strong urge to turn knowledge into power, but I have done that on many occasions. I’ll dig up as much as I can about something I feel passionate about and when it’s brought up in discussion I’ll argue about how right I am to the point of completely usurping others in the conversation. I have this need to try to convince everyone that my thought process makes sense, that it’s valid, that it’s worth considering… ultimately, that it’s RIGHT. I’m not an argumentative person but I do get very passionate (ask anyone who’s been in a conversation with me about Michelle Kwan, Mariah Carey or Roger Federer; better yet, about something that actually matters, like spirituality or relationships). I like knowing things and if I don’t know, then I like to pretend that I do. It’s easy these days. I just Wiki everything and instantaneously have superficial knowledge of just about everything there is to know.
Recently I’ve noticed that a concept called “blind spots” keeps coming up. In the context of driving, it refers to that space which escapes one’s field of vision, even with the aid of mirrors. In the context of a person, it refers to those areas in which a person is unaware – whether it be about the self or others. Every person has blind spots. No exceptions. And if you’re sitting there thinking, Oh yeah, that is DEFINITELY true about so-and-so, well, since this is my post, I will take the liberty of telling you that it is definitely true about you, too. Sorry to break your self-inflated bubble. Forget that. I’m sorry to break my own self-inflated bubble. POP!
I used to get hyper-defensive when someone criticized me about something I said or did. I was terrible at apologizing. Not me… you can’t possibly be saying that I did something wrong or I hurt your feelings. No way, there can’t possibly be any other way to look at this situation; I’m pretty positive I’m right about this one (every single time). Yeah… I was a hard person to be in a relationship with. I only recently started to realize that my point of view does not encompass the whole.
Age has a way of breaking us down, year by year, experience by experience, relationship by relationship. And when we’re stripped layer by layer, we get closer to the core of who we are and who we’re made to be. It’s not pretty all the time. It hurts. But there just isn’t quite anything like it.