I’m Not That Deep
Ran into old friend Linda at the grocery story the other day. She and I used to work together at Santa Fe College, and she asked how retirement was for me (I retired from teaching English last August 15th, 2o12). I said fine, and she asked what I’d been doing.
So I told her about this blog, illustrating with my last blog post, “The Sex Pistols Sermon,” which is about what the title says and also about Abraham in the Book of Genesis and Nihilism. After I told Linda this, she responded that she couldn’t do something like that. Why not? I asked.
“I’m not that deep,” said Linda.
“I always thought that you were about as deep as everyone else,” I replied.
Turns out that Linda feels that she’s not much of a natural writer (despite working a whole career as a professor and then an academic advisor in Health Programs at Santa Fe College); writing, she told me, doesn’t come easy to her. And wrapping her mind around something pop-culturey like the Sex Pistols and how that related to the Book of Genesis and Nihilism wasn’t easy (hey, wasn’t easy for me either — as I explained in the post I’m referring to, the post previous to this one, Father Richard did the heavy lifting, thinking-wise).
After we said goodbye, and since then, I’ve been considering what it means to be “deep,” and whether I am, and whether or not I or anyone else would want to be.
Or is it more like the old joke: Deep down, I’m shallow? No, no, no, it’s not that — it’s that my pattern of thinking is simply my pattern of thinking, neither deep nor shallow. When I was an English professor, sometimes I’d think (or even say), make a few connections, draw a few insights, and I’m through for the week.
Or I could simply be An Existential Hero — profound but inarticulate. (And then it would be hard to see that I’m profound — but being misunderstood like that would be ever-so-existential.)