Aging with Ignorance

If anything, growing up has served to confirm my ignorance, perpetuate my happy go lucky life and left me wallowing in the ocean of ignorance. Obviously am not alone in this narrow, shallow thinking
since, ostensibly, ignorance is the new swag. Some call it risk taking, others have caved in thinking it is their fate, destiny or whatever euphemism they brand it. To quote a phrase in a song by the Beetles, we live our life in chain without knowing that we have the keys. That is how serious ignorance can be; it leaves us thinking that we can't do anything to change our predicament.

Sure, there are situations which are beyond our scope of influence- we aren’t alone at that. It is normal; though, that is not what disturbs me; it is our unwillingness to try, our blatant and deliberate submission to oblivion where we have recalcitrantly refused to be a part of the solution to our problems. Ours have been a sickening proclivity to sit and wait for others to take initiatives.

We are a know-it- all society, with an opinion on everything. Our haughty snobbishness is ubiquitous in the social media where our herd mentality has turned it into an anti-social medium. It does not help that we chastises anyone with a contrary opinion, ignorantly label them morons - we are ALWAYS right and anything we write (including this) is right. 

Enough with our ignorance, at least that is (according to me) our collective burden and I won't be foolish as to try lift it alone. It give me solace when I see my problems as a collective problem, that way, I can ignorantly afford the ignorance of not worrying about them, buy a little more time in my favorite hobby - procrastination.

It is expected that as one advance in age, ignorance on certain issues is shed off. That is what I thought but a cursory glance at my growing up, there are issues which truthfully, and am reluctant to admit, have refused to grow with me. The only change I can cite is retrogressive. You would expect that with knowledge, the vacuum void formally filled with spiteful ignorance is filled with facts transforming one into a pragmatic individual. Well, it turns out that this is not always the case.

I hold bible anachronistic for maintaining that people perish due to lack of knowledge, I bet it is their ignorance which act to their detriment. Generally, I never consider myself much of a risk taker; in fact, am wary of any risky situation always playing safe. How I then came about to play Russian roulette baffles me. It is one of those things you do out of ignorance, impetuously lifting a revolver, pointing it at your head and firing. To a casual observer, the very thought of the act is a recipe for madness; unthinkable and totally irrational. With time, one grow and accumulate more knowledge which in effect breed more ignorance, submerging you in all manner of actions and deeds you conventionally regarded as absurd.

A potentially fatal game like Russian roulette suddenly became a fascination. You are thrilled by prospect of death where excuses turn to reasons why you cannot perish. The paranoia is lifted amidst laughs as you watch a 1000 ways to die, perplexed as you marvel at how people demise. You have heard and knows, albeit too well, that aids kill but to you so does accidents. By drawing such a comparison, you throw caution to the winds, shed all guards down and take no precaution to avoid the deadly virus. As if to confirm that little knowledge is dangerous, you are quick to intimate that people die from accidents even when they have tied the seat belts. Why then should you adorn the rubber when the risk is still prevalent?

I have been fighting this ignorance for quite some time and every time after the act, it still puzzle me on how ignorant I can be. A few years ago, I couldn’t fathom coitus act without a condom. I squandered many opportunities of getting laid due to lack of rubber. Fast forward to present, my ignorance gives me a creep for indeed when blood flow from my bigger head to the other head, latex is the last thing in my slumbering brain. I know, and that is why am writing this, that this is indeed a moronic habit and I should shed it off at the earliest opportunity. It is risky, impolitic and obviously vain.

While the bullet is still in the revolver, a pull at the trigger could see you six feet under. You may survive a few rounds but shit happens. You might not be as lucky the next time you pull the trigger. I have survived a few times but history does not always repeat itself.