An Age of Ignorant Understanding

When I was three years old I wanted to grow up to be a Hippopotamus. And don’t think that I had made this decision lightly. I had weighed the pros and cons of becoming a Hippopotamus against becoming something more main stream like a Lawyer or a Fire Engine. But as the years went by the realization dawned on me that I would never be able to achieve my goal of becoming a dangerous African mammal.

Regrettably this hasn’t been the only revelation that I’ve encountered throughout my years. I’ve only recently had to give up on the possibility of playing professional basketball in the NBA, being a contestant on Wheel of Fortune or getting to see The Beatles play live. But it’s not been all bad news. My 28 years have also seen me be the recipient of many pearls of wisdom through both my own experiences and through the advice of others. I’ve travelled the world experiencing different cultures, I’ve met people from all walks of life and any opportunity to be done or underage drinking is now firmly behind me.

And so it is with this entire motley bunch of realisations under my belt that I decided I am approaching an age of Understanding. I feel as though, without sounding fruity and alternative remedy-esque, that I’ve reached a period in my life where I’m confident about who I am and what I’m capable of achieving in the future.

Until last week…

I went to an accountant for the first time. And in the 60 minute period it took for him to address the fact that I’d irresponsibly failed to lodge a tax return while living overseas for the past two years, he also successfully broke down any self-confidence I’d developed in myself as an adult. I didn’t expect to understand everything he said to me during our meeting, but I certainly wasn’t aware that I would be reduced to a seemingly illiterate guy who’s only response would be “Umm, I don’t really know”.

So it would seem that not only have I reached an Age of Understanding, I’ve also arrived at a new Age of Ignorance. I hoped that a point would arrive in my life where the need to continue learning would cease, a day where I could have an internal dialogue with my brain where we came to an agreement that I now had a sufficient level of information inside my head. It turns out however that unless I isolate myself indefinitely from the outside world, thereby ruling out the chance of bumping into anyone who might have a degree of knowledge on any subject that is outside my sphere of understanding, I destined to be exposed as an idiot forever more.

Hopefully tomorrow when I wake up the prospect of my morning coffee will be enough to make me forget about all those things that I don’t yet know or understand. But for now, I’m going to keep hoping that science finds a way to turn me into that Hippopotamus.