What I Pretend Not to Know

This week's blogclub seed from yours truly is a bit mystifying, even to me. It vomited forth from vacuous mental depths, completely unbidden, as I began the sentence "Next week is ...". I had no premonition for such an ending, something subconscious finished it for me. What does it mean? Well, what do you pretend not to know? Don't over-think it, even though it begs a bit of brain twiddling, because you might surprise yourself.



It doesn't ask of an instance, but rather a habitual continuum. Not feigning shock at a particular surprise birthday party. Not listening intently to that one story your friend has told dozens of times before. And not ruining a movie others haven't yet seen despite being asked directly for spoilers. Again, I see the answer as an attachable trait, ongoing in life.

Me, I pretend not to know how to say a particular word or phrase, sometimes even unconsciously, even when technically the knowledge is there. It comes from genuine misspeaking, morphed from purposeful humor, and settled into a self-inflicted disability. Whoops!

I pretend not to know what's wrong with people close to me, because I don't want to drag them down further. Who knows if a focus on alternate topics actually does any good, because others tend to hold grudges far better than I.

And finally, I pretend not to know even the little I do on subjects I'm not good at. It's a terrible failing and I recommend against it. Every challenge you undertake can be overcome, whether or not an aptitude gave you a head start, and regardless of what anyone tells you is possible. I recently read about studies showing that kids given general ("You're so smart!") and/or gratuitous praise for their intrinsic talents tended towards risk aversion and even flat-out aggression. Fear is something I am attempting to recognize on a per-situation basis so I can welcome it in and then tear it apart. Scared to do something? Seems like reason enough to try it (assuming it's not likely to kill you).