I don’t know everything. I try to but I don’t.
I like the idea of the Renaissance man, a person that knows about most things. In spite my habit of trying to read almost everything, I still don’t know everything.
My brother used to get mad at me fairly frequently because I would always have an answer to most of the things he’d be talking about or questioning. I clearly remember him telling me in a moment of frustration that I don’t have to actually have the answer to everything, and that I thought I knew everything.
I have always been confident enough to speak when I have something to share, I guess that much I do know. I’ve spent forty days so far trying to outline what I do and don’t know.
I try and I have goals and I plan things out, but I don’t really know why or for what purpose sometimes. I’ve come to the conclusion that I do these things because it’s a tactic that I’ve learned along the way.
I spend a lot of time trying to know through learning, and I think that’s what makes me a unique human being, my unique Nedness.
These last few days and weeks while doing this project I’ve been trying to understand the extent to which I don’t know, and it’s actually been pummeling me the whole time right in the face. This has been leaving me feeling stuck, like all I have are vacant plans. I don’t like this.
I guess this means that the feeling of knowing is comforting and motivating at the same time, and I can conclude that I should lean into that which I do know, and follow that wildly and relentlessly. I don’t have to be in perfect order all of the time and I don’t have to succeed at anything.