As a young writer, a former student, an artist, I am always looking for ways to expand my mind. I am always looking at the vastness of a subject and questioning the multiple possibilities that may exist for it. Say for example war. There are several outcomes to war, possibilities for a turnaround in war, and many in the intellectual community who believe peace is an alternative to war.
Regardless, I spend a great majority of my time, attempting to absorb lots of knowledge, often feeling like an imposter, and believing this attempt is futile. It is as if I have attention deficit disorder. If I am reading a book or an article that references another topic, I immediately jump to the next topic. I am on to the next subject. I never seem to complete anything. I think this is in some effect due to our generation (or perhaps I am just a bibliophile).
During an orientation for one of the many shitty jobs I was hired for recently, I was introduced to the term “Master Blender”. Presumably, this is a person who likes to mix both work and play: this person wants their Wi-Fi hot and fast, just like their coffee. I am a part of this age group, 25-35. This pretentious generation has falsely made us believe that we can be experts on everything. Through sound bites, snippets, and 8-page articles you can learn all you need to have an “intellectual” conversation with your friends. This trend has followed me straight into my home and into my reading habits. I have always loved books and absorbed them as a child; I can hardly remember a book I didn’t devour. However, once I was in college and was continuously slammed with new literature, reviews, journal articles and other media, my ability dissipated. Not just my reading outside of classes, although it certainly didn’t keep me from spending money on books but, just the way I was reading. More slowly. Carefully; as if I were trying to pick out the pieces of information that were most valuable. If not for that test or paper, just truly to understand what I was being taught.
I’m certain I don’t remember everything. However, I read novels and all pieces of literature just the same now. It took me six months to finish The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt and three days to read the introduction By Jane Marcus to Virginia Woolf’s Three Guineas. I guess that’s just the life of an adult who is working, sleeping, exercising, and going to school full time. I never truly get to immerse myself fully in literature and enjoy it. I am always looking for the next snippet, the next soundbite. Retaining nothing.
“The man that knows something knows that he knows nothing at all.”
Whenever I am anxious to move on to the next topic, I think these words. How much can I really know? How much can I really know and absorb if I should still be learning from others? Why do I need to attempt to know it all when there are teachers in the world, people just like me? Those who have taken the time to study literature, music, and art. I should take the time to enjoy literature, music, and art as well. Everything happens in a flash. But learning shouldn’t happen in a soundbite. These things take time. I rush through pages and days in the same manner. Flipping through time like my pages in a book. Living in this duality, reading has become a burden to me. An imposition of my more import duties such as work, laundry, and drinking and smoking with friends. But isn’t reading the best form of self-care? A time to sit alone and think. Is there anything imposing in expanding your mind? The internet, social media and Huffington Post will have you thinking otherwise. I would love to get back to a time where I dedicated two to three hours to reading. And instead of attempting to shovel things further into my mind, take it a little at a time.
Honestly, I’ve wasted so much time that I could have spent reading, I have been playing catch-up; only getting halfway through anything before move on to the next. We only use 10% of our brains anyway. You would think I am attempting to unbox those parts of my brain. Though that may not be possible there are still higher planes, higher levels of thinking we could reach, if we only took a little more time.