On my only happy long term relationship

Colin said in class something to the effect of people falling basically into one of two categories in regards to information: there are information addicts, and information sharers. He then hinted at a shadier third category where he said he, Scott, and "maybe Caitlin" (me!) fit; according to Colin's characterization, the three of us (or at least he and Scott...andmaybeme!) use information in order to express self. I'm going to step over onto the other side of the line Colin drew and remove the "maybe" from my distinction tp assert that this is a pretty decent estimation of me and my relationship with information.

I've always esteemed knowledge as the most valuable commodity (if I can even fairly call it a commodity. For sake of ease, just let me). For me, the most powerful people are those who possess not money, not fame, not beauty, but information--those that process it well, those that use it--the "smartest." I suppose this opinion took root at a very early age. Consider: the strongest impression I have of my father is an image of him pausing with head cocked, raising his right hand slightly and making a single, controlled conductors motion, asking, "Hey Cato, did you know..." "I learned something really cool today," or "Here's somethin' neat I learned," or "Want to know something kind of cool?" (I usually stay silent and glower at him not because I don't want to know, but because I do, and I'm jealous that he probably knows something I don't. He says "Fine. I won't tell you." and we continue eating, or reading, or whatever, untl he finally tells me. (There you go, Dad--there's the playbook!)). Always a voracious reader, an audiobook fan(atic), a watcher of all "bug-mating-shows" on the Discovery Channel and The History Channel, my dad is ever learning a new tidbit, always wanting to tell it to me or my mother. WhenI was little I think I formed the impression that THIS--THIS curiosity, this knowledge, was what made my dad special. It made him smart. I learned to value that and probably unconsciously decided to create myself in the same image.

The kind of information I collect is specialized. I like random factoids, but what I like more is unraveling strands of information that pertain to my particular interests and then sharing those, sometimes with a purpose--a little like "Hey! Look what I know that pertains to what we're talking about, but is slightly left of center. See if you can figure out what this says about our topic, and about me and the way I process the world (internal monologue addendum "not that you give a shit, but if you do, that'd be cool!"). I like information, and I like to be able to share information that is a reflection of who I am. I suppose the kind of information one chooses to give precedence in his or her education and to which one pays most attention is as much an expression of self and a revelatory act as is the music she chooses, the clothes she wears, the homies with whom she rolls (snicker), and the career she pursues. Yes?

Power, for me, is intelligence, and intelligence means possessing and being capable of using and expressing information. There's probably more I could say, but as I told Spazeboy earlier, for days my thesis has been whipping my ass--not in a fun and games, "I-know-the-safety-word-and-will-honor-it" kind of way, either. For the time being at least I've appeased that cruel mistress and she's retreated for some rest into the recesses of my flash drive. So now, after having handed in damn near 30 pages of what I hope is coherent writing I can use in a final product, I'm going to toddle off for some much, much, much needed sleep. I'm growing jealous of even the city-hardened, malnourished Hartford squirrels' level of bright eyed and bushy tailedness.