Complicated Reality

It's hard to know a little, or so that's what I thought

but now I'm reconsidering the worth of knowing lots.

It's fun to do the research, it's fun to learn the stories

I thought if I could know them all, it'd bring me wealth and glory.

I assumed a day on Jeopardy was always in the cards,

so I'd dig through textbooks eagerly and practice really hard

I wasn't great at homework, no time to slow down and review.

So my grades were never great but my tests would pull me through

I collected nerdy secrets, fun facts and lore galore

If you've seen a puzzle, I've probably seen it once before

I read so many books and I followed many plots

and turned the page through turns of phrase, words taught me thicker thoughts.

But now at half past thirty I don't feel quite the same

about the stacks of useless facts I have piled in my brain

I could kinda use that space and I find more oft than not

when I try to find particulars I can't quite reach the spot.

I get lost among the memories but don't find what I am seeking,

what's the point of knowing if you can't use it while you're thinking?

So I started letting go, I started cleaning house.

making space behind my face while expired thoughts fall out.

I wasn't really sure at first if forgetting more would hurt,

but finding something new, again, is quite a sweet dessert.

I return to shows I know I know, and watch them almost new.

The details, jokes, and subtle twists all do what they're meant to do.

And I can hear that story, the one you always tell,

as if it was the first time you pulled it off the shelf.

Amnesia isn't my desire. I hold some things quite dear

but now I think it's not so bad, when smaller things escape my ears.