They say it killed the cat but I still don’t know why.
I am a very curious person. I love solving mysteries and finding pieces to puzzles. I like to know the whys, whos, hows and wherefores. I want to know what is happening, why things do or don’t work and what is on the other side of the gate or around the next bend. And why. Maybe this is part of the reason that I always choose to read mysteries.
I’m a compulsive researcher and a tireless seeker. Google is my friend. The State Archives is one of my favourite places. All day I ask the people around me questions and sometimes even more questions. One of my friends thinks that I’m just plain nosy and that the reason I always need to know what I don't know is because I’m afraid of the unknown and a non-risk taker. Possibly.
But curiosity sometimes has its rewards. Eight years ago I researched and wrote a history book. This afternoon I revisited some of my information for the first time since and discovered that with more resources available online now, even historical research has improved. There’s not much that can beat the excitement of finding another missing piece to the puzzle. It’s such a thrill to discover someone’s first name or see a fuzzy face in a one hundred year old group photo or to make a connection that has long been lost in the murky past.
So I want to know more and I can never know enough. It’s the curious people who ask “what if?” and dream up ways of solving problems. Sometimes people aren’t curious because they simply don’t care. And nothing will convince me that ignorance could ever be bliss. Curiosity will always get the better of me.
I’m still not satisfied about the question of the cat.