To the tune of Fire Engine Red
Humbled - official merriam-webster definition:
1: to make humble in spirit or manner
2: to destroy the power, independence, or prestige of
Everyday I am humbled. Every single day.
The most recent case of this was about 15 minutes ago.
I recently set out on the task of writing an essay with no ideas but my own (created with the assistance of classmates and professor) and the author's to work with, and I did just that, worked. The end result was my paper, by no means outstanding, but reasonably insightful highlighting what I found to be in many ways a profound argument. Glass of wine (er, multiple glasses) within reach I completed editing and turned it in early.
Two days later I begin to doubt my rationale and question if I really am off my rocker (which is a question that is still up in the air), and thus if I simply got it wrong. Perhaps, but I was sure of the premise so I relaxed.
Today, creeping uncertainty revealed itself once more...and I gave. I googled it (because if you're ever unsure about anything, google has the answer). The result was that today, once again, I am humbled.
This prologue, although no more than a window into a personal experience that you could care less about, has a purpose. And the purpose is this: no idea or thought is ever really our own.
Every original thought, is less original than you would care to think. Those arbitrary thoughts, have, in essence, been thought before. But for the infinite amount of thoughts, only a slight portion of them have ever been put to speech, and even less to print. And if you write something down, google it. Seriously. You will more than likely be humbled yourself. Needless to say, my reasonable insightfulness was nothing of the sort, as I simply regurgitated the thoughts of not only the author, but of so many others that thought them before.
Such is the life of the ordinary....something to the tune of fire engine red.
1: to make humble in spirit or manner
2: to destroy the power, independence, or prestige of
Everyday I am humbled. Every single day.
The most recent case of this was about 15 minutes ago.
I recently set out on the task of writing an essay with no ideas but my own (created with the assistance of classmates and professor) and the author's to work with, and I did just that, worked. The end result was my paper, by no means outstanding, but reasonably insightful highlighting what I found to be in many ways a profound argument. Glass of wine (er, multiple glasses) within reach I completed editing and turned it in early.
Two days later I begin to doubt my rationale and question if I really am off my rocker (which is a question that is still up in the air), and thus if I simply got it wrong. Perhaps, but I was sure of the premise so I relaxed.
Today, creeping uncertainty revealed itself once more...and I gave. I googled it (because if you're ever unsure about anything, google has the answer). The result was that today, once again, I am humbled.
This prologue, although no more than a window into a personal experience that you could care less about, has a purpose. And the purpose is this: no idea or thought is ever really our own.
Every original thought, is less original than you would care to think. Those arbitrary thoughts, have, in essence, been thought before. But for the infinite amount of thoughts, only a slight portion of them have ever been put to speech, and even less to print. And if you write something down, google it. Seriously. You will more than likely be humbled yourself. Needless to say, my reasonable insightfulness was nothing of the sort, as I simply regurgitated the thoughts of not only the author, but of so many others that thought them before.
Such is the life of the ordinary....something to the tune of fire engine red.
posted by La Madame at 8:25 p.m.
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