‘I don’t actually know the lyrics to most of the songs I listen to’
Obviously, I have no idea what I’m doing.
[Editor’s note: “I don’t know what I’m doing” is a recurring personal column that pays homage to Johnny Auping’s “I have no idea what I’m doing” personal column in The New Yorker. Opinions expressed here belong only to the author, and, we hope, nobody else on the planet.–Josh Towner, opinions editor]
By Molly Korzenowski | News Editor
I fake it when I’m having a conversation with someone and don’t know what they are talking about. I smile and laugh, pretending to get the reference. It works on most occasions, but when I get caught it makes me look even less sophisticated than I would have looked had I just admitted my lack of knowledge to begin with.
I still don’t know how to get to Walmart from Bethel so whenever I drive my friends there, I tell them I just like to listen to the British accent of the GPS navigator. When directed either left or right, I test which hand feels natural to write with to figure out which way to go. I don’t know how to parallel park or use a parking meter so I always park in a ramp even if it costs double the money.
I still don’t know how to correctly order a custom panini from The Grill so I always get the daily special, even if it’s full of disgusting mushrooms. I can never remember my PO box combination so I keep a crumpled up cheat sheet I got Freshman year in my lanyard. At the Wellness Center, I have only ever gone to the top floor. I want to try out the machines in the lower level but I have no idea how to work them and, frankly, the people down there freak me out.
I don’t know how to use a curling iron, so I curl my hair with a straightener instead. I still have to look up which number is my bank account number and which number is my routing number on a check. I don’t know how to check if my car needs an oil change and I’m not even really sure why it needs one. When the time comes, I’m hoping I’ll just know.
When writing a paper, I never can come up with good synonyms so I look up sumptuous words on thesaurus.com to sound more cultivated. When working for facilities management, I never learned how to replace toilet paper rolls. Whenever I was assigned the task, I politely placed the rolls on top of the dispensers. I still tie my shoes with two bunny ears over the fancy, one-loop technique.
My brother and my neighbor back home love playing “Call of Duty” on the Playstation 4. I don’t understand how to use the controller. There are about three logical ways to turn left on that thing, and by the time I figure out which one to use, I’m dead. I tried skiing for the first and last time in 5th grade. I had no idea how to stop, so I would just sat on the ground when I was done.
I don’t actually know the lyrics to most of the songs I listen to. There’s a line in Macklemore and Ryan Lewis’ “Can’t hold us” that goes like: “so we put our hands up like the ceiling can’t hold us.” For the longest time, I thought it said, “like the ceiling fan holds us.”
So as you can see, I’m a little over my head. Nevertheless, I keep moving forward, learning how to do life better as I go. It would lose its flavor if it was easy.
