Willful Ignorance
As a student, most of the information I was being taught came quickly. As I progressed through the grades, some of the information was still easy, but other things, especially those I hadn’t been exposed to, were more complex. Eventually, when memorization of long passages, poems, lists of dates and names of people was expected of me, it became difficult. I plodded through.
It was interesting that I quickly forgot those things I had memorized that didn’t have meaning. Other things, even silly poems in foreign languages, stuck. Why the difference? I guess it’s because the poems or songs made more sense to me, while an equation or a chemical reaction did not!
Still, I thirsted to know whether or not it applied to me personally. I would retain what bonded with me.
Fast-forward 70 years, and I find that while I still love to learn, I choose what to know. Other things that frustrate me easily or seem so remote to me, I prefer to let slide. I practice Willful Ignorance.
I use a lot of the electronic gadgets and new kitchen gadgets now. It was important to me to learn these things. Once I learned how to prepare what I needed the machine for, it became second nature.
But when it comes to computers or other recreational electronics. I need help figuring out how to solve the problems that occur almost daily. My iPad or my phone is the most frustrating. I can perform various functions on these gadgets but often “lose” things I know I didn’t delete. Furthermore, being shown how to rectify my problems or given answers to my questions doesn’t help. I am sure I have even written things down, but what works once doesn’t seem to work twice. It is beyond frustrating.
Have you ever put together a piece of furniture or an outdoor grill? You follow the instructions step by step, but it doesn’t guarantee that it comes out right. Sometimes the finished product is minus or plus a few screws, or a part is just downright missing. It is a great sense of satisfaction when you have a working finished piece.
On the other hand, sometimes the instructions are so convoluted that I give up almost immediately. I received a continuous glucose monitor from an agency. It came in several little boxes packaged into one main box. I could quickly tell the different components apart. The directions were folded up into an almost origami shape. When unfolded, they were almost five feet of paper with instructions on both sides of the page.
The fact that one side was written in English and the other in Spanish didn’t make it less daunting.
I could have read those instructions repeatedly, but I already shut down. It was not happening. I was exerting my Willful Ignorance.
Luckily, I was not alone. My son-in-law was here, and he just placed the instructions back into the box, took the components and put the damn thing together.
I was looking forward to this device, not having to stick a needle into my finger for a drop of blood. I waited for the “reader” to warm up and then pressed the button. The number in front of me was so high that I became alarmed. I ran to my old device and drew a drop of blood to test. The readings were about 70 points apart.
For the gizmo to work, you must have the” reader” no more than 20 feet away from you. What a pain! That means I must keep it in a pocket, which most of my clothing doesn’t have, or carry it around. I'm not a fan. I have already caused it to shut down and had to wait a half hour for it to return online.
I should practice my Willful Ignorance instead of monitoring my sugar. I can return to the finger stick situation and check it once in the morning and occasionally when I feel yucky. I can even ignore the whole situation like many people I know! No, I am too hyper for that.
