We Don't Need No Education

I do hate it when people try to educate me. Do I permeate a gormless air that instantly makes people, strangers, anyone, think that I must need help in the complexities (and non-complexities) of life?

Or could it be a damsel-in-distress type force at work here? I’m in no way delicate and have never been accused of being sweet (thankfully: I’d have somebody’s head) – but if one more person assumes I don’t know something or can’t do something for myself I may have to practice some Buddhist cool: bite my tongue and make (best) friends with my Anger.

You might all just think I’m on one of my rants, and you’d be quite right. I am. But what’s the deal?

I won’t pretend I haven’t always had a complex about not being as smart as those around me. But am I imagining this?

Why do people feel the need to tell me what I need, what I need to work on – even who I am? Why do they feel the need to tell me facts about things I already know? I think I’m a fairly open book – I am what I am, I don’t think I put on any airs and graces and I’m fully aware of my flaws. I’m grouchy, sometimes selfish (yes! It’s true), quick to react, over-sensitive – but I’m not dense. I know my limitations and I also know what I don’t know.

It’s not like I’m going to tackle the inner workings of Baudelaire when I haven’t read any of his work, is it?

And guess what? If I don’t know something, I’ll ask. I like learning new things. It really is true that you can learn something new every day – but I’ll ask when I want help.

Contrary to popular belief – I do have a brain. I do think for myself. I have an imagination. I can write short stories (crap they may be). I can spell ‘antidisestablishmentarianism’ and I know all the words to the film ‘Footloose’.

Those two things alone should count for something!