Why do I write? A very deep question with a rather simple answer. I write because I feel it’s critical to exert an effort to voice what has no voice, my thoughts. But how can that be? Aren’t the words that come from my mouth my voice? No. They aren’t. My voice is the thoughts that rage in my mind, the ones that hardly ever come out and when they do, it’s considered just “talk”. Much like many of these writings. I am aware that they will go largely unnoticed, that thoughts (when voiced) are about as significant to others as we are to the universe. I find entertainment in the irony that is our existence, constantly searching for the feeling of importance and place, all the while ignoring the most important part of our lives, the ability to listen, process and reciprocate all for the sake of connection. Yet I am not saddened by this! Because I know what my voice sounds like, and I love it.
The Socratic Paradox – I know that I do not know.
I had a conversation with someone not too long ago that said 2 things that rocked my world and will respond accordingly now:
1) we cannot learn about a person by reading something they wrote
2) It’s weird that I find everything interesting, they firmly believe it’s impossible to find everything interesting.
Alright! So! I find everything interesting because so much can be learned from even the smallest of details. We are taught in school (and life to a lesser degree) to critically think, to analyze and decipher. Finding things interesting does not mean things are void of being boring, quite the opposite actually. I know many things that are boring, reading long things can be very boring, but what’s interesting are the questions that result from the decisions made. Why was it boring? What would make it exciting? When did it happen? I made the reference about the universe because I believe that our lives are like the universe. It is infinite, filled with a ton of empty space and as a result of the first two points, has the ability to create an equally infinite amount of questions to be answered. And that, in my opinion, is interesting. I have made attempts to be devoid of opinion, uninterested and for lack of a better way to phrase it; just not give a shit. In every attempt, those who surround me asked the same 3 questions/comments: 1) Am I alright? 2) You look sad 3) Oh, you’re just thinking? followed up by “Shawn, you think too much sometimes”. It’s true, but only if sometimes was never.
I find everything interesting because hardly is it ever the larger points that matter. You can learn that about me by reading what I write but I implore you all to start asking more questions than the standard responses. You may just find out something you never thought you would. Step outside of the normal with the knowledge that what’s normal has never been defined, it’s forever shifting. What’s odd now may be a single statement or question away from becoming your new love.