From a young age, I always considered myself an intellectual. I read more than almost anyone I knew. I got straight A’s in school. I excelled in Math and Science. I’m quiet and introverted. I have an aptitude for grasping complex technical concepts and applying them in real-world solutions.
Lately, I’ve been questioning whether I’m an intellectual at all.
My doubts arose when I was read Tim Kreider’s two books of essays. Although I found them to be thought provoking and entertaining, I also found them challenging to read. Tim used words, references and sentence structures that made reading an effort.
After reading Tim’s books, I began reading a collection of essays by David Foster Wallace. I really expected to enjoy DFW’s essays, based on reading something by him many years ago and glowing reviews about his writing from many literary critics.
It took me two weeks to work through my first DFW book. The second one I read for about a week before giving up.
I really wanted to like DFW’s writing. But I don’t. He goes far too deep with details in his stories. He uses footnotes, asides and laboriously long sentences that require rereading the same section repeatedly to understand what could’ve been said in a few words.
When I read DFW, it feels like I am reading an academic who is more concerned with seeming impressive and clever than with communicating ideas.
Kreider had a bit of this, but DFW was over the top.
In fairness to both of them, they both were writing majors and professors. Their world is literature, words and writing. I’m just a reader.
My life today is anything but intellectually rigorous. I spend a good portion of each day in rigorous physical activity. To relax, I focus on the arts – writing, drawing, painting and drumming. I talk to my dogs more than any human beings.
I love learning and being challenged. Each week, I seem to find something new to learn – whether it’s about history, home repair, finance or philosophy.
But I don’t dive deep on any of these subjects. Reaching a base level of knowledge and competence is sufficient for me.
My stepfather, used to say he was a “jack-of-all-trades, master of none“. He could create news stories from the AP Wire, read them on the radio in a rich baritone, run faster than any adult I knew, refinish hardwood floors, install tiles, build bookshelves, fire a gun, do karate, fix a car, raise a family, cook, and everything in between.
I don’t even think of myself as an intellectual these days. It’s not a core part of my identity anymore.
I kind of like being a jack-of-all-trades more.