The Pressure of Being an "Intellectual"

I was chatting with a friend today, and we began discussing the feelings we have when we apply the things we learned in school to our real lives. On the one hand there is a level of satisfaction, knowing that you have the information tucked away for when you really need it, but on the other hand there is a distinct feeling of inadequacy and knowing that you don't actually know everything people think you do.
I graduated with a humanities degree, and while I did minor in a more marketable skill, my actual degree is fairly artsy-fartsy. I studied a lot of literature, and wrote a ton of papers. I feel like I learned a lot, but I also feel a continued pressure to be more "intellectual," and understand things like Nietzsche.
In high school I would babysit for a woman who was, and still is, one of the most brilliant women I've ever met. She was highly educated, and home schooled her children. She was well spoken, and could deliver a fascinating lecture on just about any topic. When I went off to college, I set a goal to become like her. I wanted to carry myself with the educational confidence she had, and I wanted to be well-read, like she was. (and I'm sure still is)
Having graduated a few years ago, and read my fair share of books (and then some.) I still don't feel the way I thought I would. I don't feel like I could lecture on any topic, nor do I feel like I could even discuss a piece of classic literature in a way that would be seen as "smart." I don't love dissecting poetry for alternative meaning.
I like to read, and I like to write. I enjoy a good story, and I like to create. I even like diagramming sentences, but ask me to read Plato, and then regurgitate some text book description, and I'll probably fail. (Or I won't enjoy the effort it takes to do it.)
I have this fantasy in my head of what I think my life should look like. It's a series of handwritten, partially finished manuscripts scattered on a cafe table, and a cup of hot tea sitting on a thick philosophy book. I have dreams of writing a life altering modern piece of literature. I want to write lyrical prose, and be praised in the most elite literary journals.
The problem with this fantasy, is just that. It's fantasy. It's not realistic. I don't enjoy writing lyrical prose, and while I would love to write a deep and moving piece of literature, I'll probably publish some YA vampire chick lit instead.
While I'm not where I thought I would be, I haven't yet given up on my dreams to learn as much as I can, and read as many books as I can. While I may not be reading what a liberal arts major should be reading, I read what I love. I'm still learning and I'm still working out my dreams.
I guess what I'm trying to say is for all of you who think I know everything there is to know about the English language, or literature (as I'm sure there are a plethora of you.) I don't. I know what I know, and I would love to share with you what I know. I'm never going to be that kid in class who has an answer for every question the professor asks. I won't ace every test, or argue every point ( especially now that I'm done with school...) but that's okay. Nobody liked that kid anyway. (I'm looking at you Bryce.)

Until next time,

H.

Ps. I do write a book review blog and if you'd like to check it out, please visit this link. I promise to write what I think I know about the books I read.