Knowledge, Types, Capacity, Incoherency HERE I COME.

I have been accused of Philistinism. If I failed to elaborate on this accusation, people who know me well might be confused. I have been accused of shunning artistic expression, intellectualism, and all the pretty little things that make us feel. That’s the accuser’s take. In reality, I have been accused of possessing the wrong type of knowledge. This blog post is not a defensive harangue. (That sounded defensive.) I am writing to address the challenge in different sets of knowledge. This challenge has occupied my mind in the most repressed manner for several years. Now that it is prominent rather than repressed, I realize that different sets of knowledge deserve prioritized pondering.

I faced innumerable accounts of ignorance at Arizona State University. For too long, I exhibited excessive pride while projecting that I could never be so inexperienced, unworldly, or uneducated. I had trouble distinguishing intelligence from knowledge, intelligence from skill. I never acted as an altiloquent asshole, discerning artist, wanderlust queen, or guru of any “esoteric” field. I did, however, believe the knowledge I possessed to be the most significant knowledge there was. I believed the knowledge I possessed to be the knowledge that every sensible person should also possess. I blindly believed this so strongly that I embraced my ignorance of subjects in which I was poorly versed. Did I want to learn more about sports, finance, or pop culture? (I list the topics I dismissed for being trivial and petty no more than two years ago.) Did I want to write poetic prose or emulate the painter’s stroke? Did I not dismiss people who religiously lived according to their religion? And finally….did being uninterested make me a closed-minded prick?

I once blogged about conversations hitting walls. One girl didn’t know who Plato was. One thought legit-ly was a word. She may have even though legit was a word. One girl thought Alaska was an island—but in all fairness, third-grade teachers really throw us off by refusing to teach Canadian geography so that Alaska, with its linear coastline, appears to be located southwest of California next to Hawaii, each framed separately in the ocean. AND I DIGRESS. Okay, so some of the “asshole” hasn’t worn off yet. When passing a couple take a photo in front of the mosque close to campus, I eavesdropped to find they referred to it as an Indian structure. My roommate didn’t know who Henry David Thoreau was, nor did he know what GOP stood for. When I told the story of how my roommate didn’t know what GOP stood for to another roommate, roommate deux replied, “Neither do I.” These are the things…the things that I think people should know. Just because I possess this knowledge doesn’t mean that others don’t have the capacity to comprehend such basic facts; they simply haven’t learned them. Where do we draw the line? When is it acceptable to denounce someone for being, simply, unaware of what you are aware? The answer is never.

I went out to dinner with Pratt students—some more of my roommates. A photography major mentioned a famous photographer. I didn’t know the name. Still don’t. I wasn’t intrigued enough to write the name down or investigate the photographer independently. I seemed to have grown five heads immediately following their discovery of my sheltered, or lack of, knowledge in this field. The same thing happens when my co-worker talks about unions or lobbyists. She’s very keen on these things. I am not…despite sharing the same workplace. At ASU, I befriended Texan girls who taught me who The Rascal Flatts are. They also frowned when I called them The Rascal Flatts. Last night I had some drinks with a friend. He told me a story about a girl who started a non-profit devoted to AIDS research. The story’s punchline was that the organization’s founder didn’t know what AIDS stood for. Then, suddenly, I couldn’t remember what AIDS stood for. And to be frank, who knows if I ever knew what AIDS stood for? I actually just Googled it because I forgot after he told me last night. My favorite moment of ignorance was when my study-abroad friends were appalled that I hadn’t heard of Jared from Subway. I still don’t know who this man is. I angrily refuted their criticism by complaining that no one would venture to the outskirts of Paris to see Debussy’s house because…no one knew who he was. My reaction was childish, but nevertheless, Blaire responded, “That’s not the same. Jared from Subway is common knowledge.”

We’ve failed to be American. We once valued liberal arts—eclectic educations. We forced people to acquire knowledge that was undoubtedly uninteresting to them for their own good. But somehow our institutions have instituted types. Types dislike other types, sometimes, and usually cling to their own types. The architects feel that others don’t appreciate their intent focus and labor (or so I’ve heard). The financial analysts glorify bottle service and thoroughly enjoy moving rows from spreadsheet to spreadsheet. The OWS protesters… Well, I can’t really make a generalization here because I truly am confused as to whether or not they have endeavored to institute a better economic system, but the Tea Partyists condemn anyone who isn’t as brainwashed as they are  or anyone who thinks that indulgences are ineffective. Why are these types glued together? Why do they steer clear of all other types? Better yet, WHY DO THESE TYPES EXIST? Sets of knowledge create types. Unfortunately, when people who possess the same set of knowledge spend too much time together, they’re constantly reassured that their type’s field or knowledge or attitude or way of dress is the best.

I blog as a reaction to single accounts, to general observations, to so many things. I guess all I wanted to say was this: I used to think I possessed supreme knowledge because I am interested in civil rights, jazz music, classic fiction, and history and politics. I designated my knowledge supreme by rationalizing that these subjects were what we needed to study to better society, benefit mankind. I love old things. Old, musty-smelling books and old music. NEW THINGS SUCK, right guys? Let’s all scorn at top 40 hits and one’s ignorance in my field, whatever that field may be. After being a victim of a younger me, I am repulsed by my old self. I see it as the highest demonstration of insecurity. I love art—a different kind of art. I don’t have to articulate why I feel good when I stare at Kandinsky’s vibrant colors. Just as you never asked me for more information on the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty. It’s oll korrekt. I’m sorry if I haven’t made sense.

“The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing” - Socrates

Writing Styles

“At first Amory noticed only the wealth of sunshine creeping across the long, green swards, dancing on the leaded windowpanes, and swimming around the tops of spires and towers and battlemented walls.” - F. Scott Fitzgerald

The Sun Also Rises - Ernest Hemingway