The tao de ching says if you can say what the tao is then that's not it. Same with you. Same with me. If you can say what we are, nail us down to a checkbox, that's not us. Words are the nets through which all truth escapes, says Paula Fox. See. If we try to reduce things to a theory, a stereotype, the broad stroke of one-color-paint, the only thing we reduce is ourselves. Hear me out. Here I am. I bat left, throw right, and run in both directions. Try and pick me off. Seriously, I grew up playing pickle, haven't been tagged out yet. Check out the strawberries on my thigh. I wasn't fast but didn't know it. That became my key, my secret weapon. I was: Didn't Know Boy, Superhero. And I didn't even know that. But not knowing any better was my strength which when you get right down to it, made all those college degrees my kryptonite. Words were the holes in my cape, my escape from the phone booth, now outdated, now like me. Depending on what calendar you go by. Only thing is now I know it. And it's my strength. That, and not wearing a watch.