Smeagol is Free!
A hermitudinal view of...stuff...


Q & A


It was a firm answer, given with no hesitation whatsoever. It may have sounded like I'd rehearsed my response in anticipation of what she, or anyone else, for that matter, would ask, but that was hardly the case. Call it a confident answer, if you will, but that might be somewhat odd in light of the question in question. And what precisely is the question, you ask? Simply put, Meg Rampley wanted to know what I'm afraid of.

Fear. I think about it a lot. It's not as though there's any one specific thing that causes me to be afraid. On one end of the spectrum, there are some Boyce students who are probably convinced that I don't get nervous, don't blush, or am immune to any sort of flustering.

Not so in the least.

I'm reminded of a conversation with Leeman a while back. In that lesson, he showed me a lot of things about himself that I'd not really considered. For instance, while I didn't ever really consider him as being perfect, it was excessively easy to weigh everything he thought or did with much less of a critical, rigorous eye, simply because he was Jonathan Leeman. What I mean by that is this: he wasn't theoretically perfect, but practically, he was put on a pedastal he wouldn't have wanted to be on. He wasn't telling me not to do as he did, but instead, he was showing me to note that he was weak, just as I was, and that weakness was not a precursor to failure.


Failing is one of those things that often depends on perspective and response. When I told Ramp of my fear, I qualified my answer by saying that it was a total, utter failure that I was afraid of, not the tiny bits and pieces of flailing and falling that are a part of the growing process. Essentially, it's not falling that I fear, it's that I'm afraid I'll never get up.

posted by Bolo | 11:04 AM
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