August 23, 2002

• You had me at hello -

  
  

  Have you ever noticed that there's an odd sort of relationship between questions and answers?  Intuitively it seems simple.  You notice a gap in your knowledge - you put it into words - and voila?! a question is born.  Then you look around, make some obeservations, maybe read a doctoral dissertation or two, and you fill in the gaps - there you have it - the answer to the question. 

  
  

  Only every answer raises at least two more questions.  And frankly, the more certain the answer seems, the less I've learned to trust it.  Sometimes I find myself asking questions that I didn't know were questions.  When I think on a particular concept and maybe even write out what I think I know about it, questions appear out of thin air.  I didn't KNOW there was a gap in the knowledge until I got it down on paper.  Then like cream cheese on a bagel, little gaps appear.  Before my eyes the gaps widen until the honey is running all down in the bagel and dripping through for my waiting poodle to lap it up.

  
  

  Then its back to thinking, back to the books, back to research, and back to writing down answers that become questions that require answers that become questions.  Have you ever heard this one, "an intellectual is a person who has been educated beyond his intelligence."  Or how about this one, "Egghead: A person of spurious intellectual pretensions, often a professor of the protege of a professor.  Fundamentally superficial.  Overemotional and feminine in reaction to any problem.  Supercilious and surfeited with conceit and conctempt for the experience of more sound and stable men.  A self-conscious prig, so given to examining all sides of an issue that he becomes thoroughly addled while remaining in the same spot."  When you hear the word intellectual - doesn't you mind automatically fill in the object "elite."  I've heard the two words "intellectual elite" together so often that they seem like the brands that I automatically reach for at the Supermarket.  I can't think of the one without the other. 

  
  

  I spent most of the first 20 years of my life in bitter resentment of the teachers who commented on my "intelligence" in class, in front of my peers.  How dare they tar me with that brush!  "Don't listen to them, I'm not really that smart!  I'm no different from anyone else.  Look, I missed a problem on that last algebra test, see!?  I'm not smart, I'm not different and I'm certainly not one of those people." 

  
  

  If you look up the word gullible in the dictionary - there I am.  I'm not gullible about ideas - I'm irritatingly nitpicky about the nuances of philosophy, theology, and scientific theory.  But, put me in with a bunch of real live people and stir . . . I think it should be more automatic that I could relate to beings who after all are of the same species!  And most people I meet seem to think that I do relate well.  I have a nice smile, and I'm genuinely interested in other people, how they feel, what they think, what kinds of things they find important.  But I learned a long time ago, that it just isn't safe to tell them in return what *I* think, feel and value.  Mostly, it just gets me odd looks and head shakes.  Sometimes people get hostile, they assume that if I have a different opinion than they hold that I must be committed to proving that I'm right and they are wrong. 

  
  

  For a lot of different reasons - overuse of sarcasm from the adults who raised me, past experiences where I've misunderstood what people were saying, and my own awareness of the gaps - I am very seldom committed wholeheartedly to the absolute truth of an proposition.  That doesn't meant that there aren't things I think are true - but I recognize that even if it is true - it's impossible (at least from my point of view) for any particular truth to be exhaustively true.  No single statement answers every question that might be asked of it.  So when I talk with you, I do pretty well at listening to your ideas.  Here on Xanga at least, I find it easy to talk about my own ideas.

  
  

  In general, I assume that you are an interested listener and a willing participant in the process of asking questions, looking for answers, and asking more questions.  I'm going to choose to take your statements at face value - if you meant it sarcastically, well, I most likely didn't "get it."  If you want to argue with me on points of fact, I'll most probably wrinkle my brow and reach for whatever heavy book is closest by that refers to that point or concept.  If you have some need for me to be "wrong," you'll find that I'm not resistant to that notion, if may very well be that I get excited because you've helped me find another of those intriguing cracks that make life interesting.

  
  

  If that's not your intent.  If you only start a dialogue because you are looking for a way to practice your skill at making another person feel foolish - I'm not a good target.  Not because I never feel foolish, but because I always feel foolish.  I'm not going to "get it."  I may in fact come across to you as arrogant, stubborn, conceited, eggheadish or any number of other negative words you might attach to the term "intellectual."  I'm not in high school anymore, and I think I may have finally grown out of the need to reassure people that I'm "not different."  I'm not tolerant, I'm exhilarated by the differences in the way we think.  Every difference I find is another rung on my ladder of understanding my world.  Not to mention, in my mellow maturity, I've come to appreciate your right to be wrong. 

  • 10:15 am
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