Sometimes I get to thinking I’m pretty darned special. Or original. Or clever. Or ahead of the curve. Or…
Nope.
I remember coming out of high school, I had built a small following of fans for my music–I often dreamed about becoming the next great overnight musical celebrity, and even thought I had the talent to make that happen. Then I arrived at college, and just about every single kid in my dorm had a guitar (like me), and a crazy dream of musical fame (like me). Many also had talent that put mine to shame. Darrel Evans (now wildly popular in pop-christian genre) was just a few doors down the hall, and he wasn’t even the best one. I quickly stashed my guitar in the corner, and actually started reading my college textbooks. Figured I might need that degree after all.
A few years ago, I rekindled my love for writing (begun in my high school creative writing class), and have since dared to consider myself “a budding writer on the verge of publication.” Then, a few months ago, I started this blog, and have watched it blossom, proud of myself and my technical trendiness. Oh, what a good boy am I…
Well, a few minutes ago, I read a real blog from a real writer. Someone I knew, nonetheless–I just never knew what a phenomenal writer she was. Also unbeknownst to me, she has quietly been blogging away for the past couple of years, sharing her soul and wit for all web-wanderers (Eng. I students please note and appreciate the Anglo-saxon meter and kenning).
The enviously green icing on the cake? She’s a teacher. Former Sunset teacher. She once taught my class. Probably did that better, too, come to think of it…
So if humility is the pathway to wisdom, shouldn’t I be a genius by now? Somehow that doesn’t sound very humble…