Being Loud & Being Wrong

I need a new moleskin, and I haven't written anything in this for awhile. What the hell, right?


I talk too much. At times, my inner monologue is next to non existent. I suppose I've always been this way. I'm pretty vocal about things, I enjoy debate, and I oftentimes speak before thinking. Most people are guilty of the same things, so I am comfortable in the resolution that, on a good day, my diarrhea of the mouth is luckily passable by the standards of modern society. For example: when I am in class, I like to ask questions. I ask questions to accommodate a few of my many needs. One of those needs is obviously the need to learn. Another need is the need to understand. Another need, though, is the need for action. If I am not intellectually stimulated, then I will daydream, fidgit, and doodle in my notebook. Plain and simple: I learn through motion. Many people are like me, but a small percentage of those people take class participation to the extent that I sometimes do. People like me are more commonly frowned upon by their classmates for our dictatorial presence in class. We tend to monopolize class time with our own questions, we feel the need to include our two cents in every conversation, and we oftentimes bring pointless personal anecdotes into otherwise productive class discussions. I know it's annoying, and I am sorry. At the end of the day, though, my needs, like most people's, are usually going to outweigh the needs of others. I know that sounds selfish, but the malady of which I speak is more or less involuntary. For the same reason mean people are inherently mean, and for the same reason my cat instinctively begs for food even on a full stomache, people like me are going to piss a few people off by being annoying. It is, quite simply, a part of our nature. We cannot do anything about it. For us, sitting still and shutting up is just too painful to stand.

I write this because I do not want people to go on assuming that I think I know everything. In fact, I'm really wrong more times than I'm not. Being wrong can be really beneficial, though. When I'm wrong, people usually catch me on it. They then tell me why I'm wrong, which allows me the opportunity to look at something with a different perspective (I stress the word opportunity, mind you, because although people may be offered another viewpoint, this does not mean they take that opportunity. Now that I think of it, this thought actually touches on the bane of our world's existence.... but I digress). I don't always make the most of those opportunities, but I often feel better about myself when I do. Therefore, by acknowledging to myself and to you that I realize that I am not always going to be right, and by admitting that I even like to be wrong at times, I reason it to be only moderately selfish to, in advance, spare myself the foregone humiliation of being so.