The Contemporary

On Friday I received a bit of a wake up call. It wasn’t something that requires getting

into or elaborating on any more. Just a situation that was a long time coming, that I needed. Now, I’m staring at this screen as the words appear with every tap by my fingers, and I’m finding myself relatively at ease with each word. They are what they are, after all. They present themselves on the page or screen as I, the writer, intended. Although often misconstrued, each word is planned in advance and presented the way the writer wants it to be presented, and if you take the time, as a reader, to slip into the writers skin and look at the piece in the way the author did you create some interesting insight. You’re able to avail yourself of all the guessing that so many people subscribe. As they use their fingers to guide their eyes across the page and down trying to elaborate on what they believe they understand.

I’ve tried that, and the truth of the matter is that act is nearly impossible. Finding

your way into the writer’s eye is more difficult than dining on the head of a needle or standing on the wing of a moving 747. How can anyone claim to understand another when so often we fool ourselves into believing that we in any way truly know ourselves? It’s a dichotomy that people tell me that they understand and operate within but they’re wrong. They claim to be able to look at something that someone has produced and understand full who that person is and what that person has and will do. But how is that possible? How can anyone make such an arrogant claim without any kind of pollster or roadway guide? Anyone can claim to have that ability, but no one truly ever knows. We try, we take classes and read books about people and tendencies but we find ourselves dancing in a fog of the impossible. And to that aim, I had also.

There was a bit of time where I believed that I knew, but I was wrong. I didn’t. And

sometimes having the volcano explode and spew all it has onto you is the only way to rid yourself of the belief that you know anything. That’s where I am right now. Dumbfound but seeing a bit more clearly. Ironically equipped with new glasses but truly blind. I’m sorry that I thought I knew more than I’m capable of knowing. I’m sure I’ll never be able to have you understand how badly it makes me feel to know that my sheer stupidity lead you down the path you took. But I counter that by saying it wasn’t a malicious act, nothing premeditated or launched with malice or contempt. It was all just unknown blindness and a gift for stupidity that make me who I am. For that I apologize.