Define "everything"

Literal types may take issue with the title of the blog. That may be the point, really. Literal types make me stabby. Literally. Stabby.

No, more theoretically stabby, I suppose. But such a sad existence, to have been born missing the humour lobe in the brain.

What is it about literal people? (Note: not to be confused with literary people, who can be equally confusing, or literate people, who, you know, yay.) It does seem to me that it must be an absolutely exhausting existence to take every statement as verbatim, exact, unembellished and hyperbole-free. How do these people get through life without wanting to throw themselves under a bus after chewing out their own hippocampus in anxiety and frustration?

It is quite possible I'm thinking of a bible literalist or two I've run across. Hi, this is Post Number the Fifth, and I'm ready to alienate.

No, I'm ready to defer. But we'll come back to that, shall we?

Define "everything"

Easy. When I say that Madame Fabulous Knows Everything, what I mean essentially is that Tanya knows only that she realizes every day how little she does know. In fact, she doesn't even know how to talk about myself in the third or first person consistently within one sentence. But what I do know is this: while the amount I don't know grows every day, so does the amount that I do. I am always given lessons that I need to learn from the Universe, almost upon asking.

True story: My awesome boss and I are working on professional goals together. Six months ago, I said I wanted to learn more about time management. Almost in the next breath, I became so busy that I had to learn how to juggle all of my commitments, obligations and demands on my time with such efficiency that, if I can squeeze out just a few more weeks, I may hang a patent on my time-folding abilities. After that, I said I wanted to learn conflict management, and was suddenly face to face with more dukes-up assclowns than I would wish on my worst enemy. I've now asked my boss to help me manage my millions of dollars, because he is clearly some crazy genie who grants my every wish.

So the point is this: I know nothing in the grand scheme of things. And I'm willing to admit that flat out. But what I do know is that with an open heart and an open mind--and glue traps to keep the roaming assclowns at bay--I know more every day.

I know what I know. I know what I don't know. What I'm worried about is not knowing what I don't know. But I'm pretty sure that doesn't exist. Sort of like Swine Flu.