Still Muddling Through
It's been some time-
inside of which I've aged. In ten years- or less- I'll be able to read this bit and chuckle and say, 'I've aged". Yet it really doesn't matter that my immaturity still exists, it's comforting to simply make progress. No one just clicks and becomes perfect and ceases to grow in wisdom for the rest of life. That 'click' point merits its own article.
At seven I thought it would be ten, at ten I thought it would be fifteen, at fifteen I thought it would be eventually... but of course with so much wisdom now at least I no longer guess any more ages. Ha.
Blogging is a pretty good way to exercise writing, even if it does require consciously telling the grammar police and editing moguls in my head to shut up occasionally. Can't get a straight sentence out otherwise. And I declare- says the least disciplined youngest of five- 'writing shall be in my life, whether I like it or not!' An astounding argument of logic.
Below a relevant accompaniment excerpt from Orson Card's superb Ender series. From the book, 'Shadow of the Hegemon'.
And if it ever became truly annoying, Bean could leave and strike out on his own. He'd never say that to Sister Carlotta, because it would only worry her. Besides, she was bound to know it already. She had all the test data. And those test had been designed to tell everything about a person. Why, she probably knew him better than he knew himself.
Of course, he knew that back when he took the tests, there was hardly an honest answer on any of the psychological tests. He had already read enough psychology by the time he took them that he knew exactly what answers were needed to show the profile that would probably get him into Battle school. So in fact she didn't know him from those tests at all.
But then, he didn't have any idea what his real answers would have been, then or now. So it isn't as if he knew himself any better.
And because she had observed him, and she was wise in her own way, she probably did know him better than he knew himself.
What a laugh, though. To think that one human being could ever really know another. You could get used to each other, get so habituated that you could speak their words right along with them, but you never knew why other people said what they said or did what they did, because they never even knew themselves. Nobody understands anybody.
And yet somehow we live together, mostly in peace, and get things done with a high enough success rate that people keep trying. Human beings get married and a lot of the marriages work, and they have children and most of them grow up to be decent people, and they have schools and businesses and factories and farms that have results at some level of acceptability- all without having a clue what was going on inside anybody's head.
Muddling through, that's what human beings do.
That was the part of being human that Bean hated the most.
inside of which I've aged. In ten years- or less- I'll be able to read this bit and chuckle and say, 'I've aged". Yet it really doesn't matter that my immaturity still exists, it's comforting to simply make progress. No one just clicks and becomes perfect and ceases to grow in wisdom for the rest of life. That 'click' point merits its own article.
At seven I thought it would be ten, at ten I thought it would be fifteen, at fifteen I thought it would be eventually... but of course with so much wisdom now at least I no longer guess any more ages. Ha.
Blogging is a pretty good way to exercise writing, even if it does require consciously telling the grammar police and editing moguls in my head to shut up occasionally. Can't get a straight sentence out otherwise. And I declare- says the least disciplined youngest of five- 'writing shall be in my life, whether I like it or not!' An astounding argument of logic.
Below a relevant accompaniment excerpt from Orson Card's superb Ender series. From the book, 'Shadow of the Hegemon'.
And if it ever became truly annoying, Bean could leave and strike out on his own. He'd never say that to Sister Carlotta, because it would only worry her. Besides, she was bound to know it already. She had all the test data. And those test had been designed to tell everything about a person. Why, she probably knew him better than he knew himself.
Of course, he knew that back when he took the tests, there was hardly an honest answer on any of the psychological tests. He had already read enough psychology by the time he took them that he knew exactly what answers were needed to show the profile that would probably get him into Battle school. So in fact she didn't know him from those tests at all.
But then, he didn't have any idea what his real answers would have been, then or now. So it isn't as if he knew himself any better.
And because she had observed him, and she was wise in her own way, she probably did know him better than he knew himself.
What a laugh, though. To think that one human being could ever really know another. You could get used to each other, get so habituated that you could speak their words right along with them, but you never knew why other people said what they said or did what they did, because they never even knew themselves. Nobody understands anybody.
And yet somehow we live together, mostly in peace, and get things done with a high enough success rate that people keep trying. Human beings get married and a lot of the marriages work, and they have children and most of them grow up to be decent people, and they have schools and businesses and factories and farms that have results at some level of acceptability- all without having a clue what was going on inside anybody's head.
Muddling through, that's what human beings do.
That was the part of being human that Bean hated the most.
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