Whether it is a mild case of ADD or just too many interests to stay focused, switching between interests has been a double-edged sword from my earliest memories. The scenario usually goes something like this. Something catches my attention and I have to know everything possible about it yesterday. Of course this impossible, but I dive in headfirst and plow through everything I can until my version of reality sinks in. Either I do not have the resources (financial, free time, physical stamina, or skill) to continue, or I finally face that my goal is incredibly unrealistic. I scale back my efforts and eventually the quest becomes a memory. Or, as with ADD, something equally intriguing surfaces and the ever-hopeful seeker goes off on this new tangent. The original interests either fall by the wayside or mutates into something that blends with the new exploration.
Either way the results tend to be consistent. A basic understanding of the new subject is added to the rest of the Trivial Pursuit answers stockpile in my biological RAM. An appreciation for those well versed on the subject of the moment is added to the “good guys – might want to meet someday” list. A mosh pit arranged pile of papers, notes, books and other data is added to the ever-growing pile of crap I will someday have to move, even though I can rarely find any item I go looking for later from this pile. And most imposingly, this unattained grail is added to all the others I will someday resume my journey to find when I am old and have nothing better to do (as if I will ever be able to retire?). Stockpiling against future boredom!
Some of this is good – knowledge gained, even if incomplete. Some of this is bad – a pack rat’s paper heaven!
Such has been the fate of my studies of music, language, theology, sports, and many other fields. The debris of instruments, dictionaries, iconography, toys, notebooks and file folders litters my surroundings like Hansel and Gretel’s breadcrumb trail through the forest. If I follow it, I will retrace old paths, but it is more likely the debris will wear away over time leaving spaces to be filled in only by having to choose another unmarked direction.
What is the growing smirk for? Well, considering all this, I wonder what those paths I have walked to the end of say about me. For there are those expeditions into unknown territories that I managed to pursue to their final destination (at least final as far as I am concerned), before allowing the sparkle of a new idea to distract my magpie sight. If you have read this far, I suppose you are wondering just what strange lands those journeys crossed and where they saw their finish. Or maybe if you have seen my library and talked with me at length, you have seen a map of where I have been and maybe even learned the why and how. But I doubt that even you know what rewards awaited the journeys’ conclusions, because years later I am still finding new ones once in a while. Mostly the rewards were confidence replacing ignorance, and even fear at times, and indelible memories of experiences that others only read about in books.
But future blogs will disclose the details of a few.
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