Psst
Hey, guys
PSST GAIZ
It's Fall!
The leaves are beautiful, the air smells better, and the weather's perfect. Yesterday, for example, was amazing: the sky was grayed over, it was windy, and it was perfectly cool.
AAAND Halloween is coming up, my all-time favorite holiday. Then there'll be Thanksgiving soon. Hell, even my birthday's coming up in November.
Easily one of my favorite seasons (Spring gives it a run, though).
It's long but all three parts relate so I'll keep them as one post.
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*phone rings*
Mother: Jonathan?
Me: Yes?
Mother: It's 3 in the morning.
Me: Yes.
Mother: Why aren't you home yet? It's way too late for you to be out.
Me: Why?
Mother: Because it's 3 o'clock in the morning.
Nothing gets by her, let me tell you. The next morning:
Father: It's completely unacceptable that you would stay out that late. [I am still, at this point, wondering why]
Mother: You're not a teenager anymore [as if I was allowed to stay out as a teenager under their arbitrary rules]; you have to wake up the next morning.
Me: …today's a Sunday [and I already had attended Sunday Vigil yesterday].
Mother: And? [for the record, I woke up at 2 today, vacuumed the kitchen and family room and tidied up my room in the span of 2 to 3 hours; I'm now on my computer. If only I had waken up earlier to get it all done!]
Father: Your clothes are on the ground; they should have been put away when you got back home [I was under the impression that a world crisis had occurred, based on their demeanor, because of how terribly late I got home last night; in my mind, getting to bed as soon as possibly was the life-saving choice to make. However, as per usual, if things aren't done in the exact order my father expects, it's apparently a lack of ambition. Never-mind that there's absolutely no difference between putting them away when I wake up or when I get home other than when I end up putting them away].
Mother: Also, you used all of my gas [I used about an eighth of a tank]. You didn't put any gas into my car afterwards, did you?
Me: No, because I don't have any money. I told you where I was going; you've been there a multitude of times; you know how much gas that takes. If that bothered you, you should have told me no and I wouldn't have gone.
The one moment of sense in this bizarre melodrama is when my mother notes that the nice thing to do would have been calling to say that I wasn't going to be home later that night. Fair; I'd be willing to oblige, though still not necessary. To use her example of why this was oh so pertinent (were I to get into some sort of accident), the police would have called their house. If you're not getting a call, I'm fine. Now stop trying to mask the fact that you can't control every aspect of my life (I can't stop myself from laughing every time my mother tells me I'm not allowed to drink, as if the first thing I've ever run to to make a decision has ever been based around whether she'd "allow" me or not).
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Father: Do you want another grilled cheese?
Me: Sure, if you're making them.
Father: What? No, it's a yes or no question: yes or no? I'm making more only if you want more.
Me: *irritable* Yes, if you're making more.
I have a habit of asking what seems like really naïve questions; even if something seems really obvious, I'll often ask again or specifically repeat, audibly, back to the instructor the steps of the (sort of obvious) task, just to be sure I have it right. In correspondence with instances like these (though not only entailed to), I often say, "I assume nothing." The larger meaning is owning up to the danger of assumption (and, in turn, the inherent ignorance we often don't expect to find in ourselves, even on accident). It's also a gracious way not to offend people, in my mind; I refuse to even be suspicious of them.
The root of this habit (I have little doubt) stems from my father. Never one to be good at communicating, he often would assume that you'd know certain things; combined with his low patience, you were never really quite certain what to do right to avoid being yelled at.
So I got into the habit of making certain of everything: I assumed nothing and asked any question I could think of to be certain I understood what he wanted. While his point seems obvious, I'm certain there've been times in the past where he's said, to some request or question from me or my siblings regarding any food, "Well, I'm done cooking, so that's not going to happen."
Under that understanding, my statement seems perfectly reasonable. Removed from that understanding, my statement is still not unreasonable; redundant, perhaps, but not difficult to figure out (humor my idiosyncrasies).
However, this – apparently – is too much for my father to figure out. My mother, like myself, often includes extra information; I'd argue that both my parents and I all prefer explaining things in the form of stories (don't give us the general idea, give us examples; we'll figure it out from there) but my mother and I use this to include other information. Example? My father is wondering how much it will cost to get my sister's dog's hair cut. My mother tells him that the old hair cutter had cost 40 dollars and one of our neighbors, who had recommended the new hair cutter, said it should cost the same amount.
My father pauses before going, "Oh, so $40; why didn't you just say that?"
My first reaction is that you get the answer either way. That aside, you now know a possible average amount for such a job. You know who gave you the new hair cutter should you want to make small talk with the neighbors (seeing as my dad seems incapable of ever shutting up, I would think he'd value that information).
I guess, likewise, my response was too confusing for his brain to parse.
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The doorbell is ringing; my sister's crazy dog, like always, thinks the house is under attack and is barking his head off. My father tells him to move away from the door (I forget if he made hand motions, seeing as the dog wouldn't understand the command "Move away from the door"; I don't think he tried very hard, if he did). The dog, not understanding and being far more involved in the more interesting events occurring just outside the door, keeps barking at the door. My father, with one more bark of "Move!", pushes the dog across the tile floor out of the way; he slides smack into the wall about a yard away. I pick him up and carry him to another room to avoid him running to the door yet again (he's a persistent one). As I head back to the front door, I hear my father mutter, "I hate that dog; he never listens."
My father, for a while (I think he's become less vocal about it but no less believing), perceives me to be very selfish and self-concerned in some areas. A lot of this, I would argue, is my firm belief that the best means of dealing with people is allowing individuals to make choices regarding themselves with no restraint so long as their choices do not harm anyone else.
Unable to perceive this, (like the individual who finds those who call for tolerance to be hypocritical because those people oppose zir attempts to ban gay marriage for everyone) he was often puzzled and irritated by my habit, when I was younger, to call him and my mother out on making comments about other people. Or, for another example, getting angry at them telling me to eat healthier.
In his mind, I was pushing my world view on him; this is hardly the case. Rather, I had no qualms about him trying to be healthy or even making disparaging comments about his own weight or loss of hair: perfectly fine. It was his utter inability to restrict these thoughts to himself that bothered me.
So, I'm the selfish one. Okay. But, I would make the argument that, even beyond the obvious generosity of autonomy, this system goes even further in opposition to selfishness. You see (to use the theme I've touched a bit on here already), this system is once again in acknowledgement of our ignorance.
I was part of a panel back in college one time that was touching on religion. I remember it was part of the Encountering Religion series, though I can't remember the particular focus this time around. Someone in the crowd asked, "In dealing with religion, we're seeking Truth and answers. There can only be one answer so don't you owe it to help others see the Answer?" Ahh, the old Evangelist approach.
I wish I had responded but I didn't. In any case, the reason why going out and killing all the heretics and infidels is wrong (other than the fact that most religions include something about not killing and it's really just common sense) is that you can't be so certain that you are correct. I've said before, any person who wants to stand and tell me that there is, without a doubt, absolutely no chance there is no god(s) or absolutely no chance there is a god(s) has lost all intellectual merit in my eyes.
To move out of that supernatural lens, a simple reading of this xanga will make evident that my thoughts and beliefs have most certainly changed over the years. Myself in middle school would have been horrified that I'd become so accepting of gay rights (let alone help further the cause in any range of organizations).
So we allow the individual as much autonomy as possible because, at the end of the day, the person who will know what's best for you the most amount of times is you. Sure, there will be times where someone knows what's best for you or what's right and you don't know. But in my system, you have the option of asking for and refusing help. In my father's, you don't have a choice. Further, everyone is responsible for themselves under this rule. Under the other, we must seek a system of justice, etc. when someone pressures you because they figured they knew better and then screw things up. If you screw things up, it's just you who pays for it.
So does that make my father's system selfish?
In terms of results, yes but that's simplifying it. It's not that he wants control, per se. It's that, in his mind, he's figured things out and (rather than verifying such findings) must put them into action.
A good example of this is actually something that happened with my brother. We were stopping by the house before heading to, I think, a swim meet for my sister. I went in and grabbed myself some chips. As I headed back, my brother asks (expectantly), "Did you get me any?"
The answer is no.
And here is why: in an individualous system, I don't have to get you chips. Would it be nice if I did? Certainly. Had I thought of it or my brother had asked before I went in, I would have happily done so. But, as I said, autonomy in self until the point of harming someone else. My brother won't die from not getting chips; he has no right to expecting anything of the sort from me. Indeed, no one owes you anything (so long as not giving it to you would not harm or restrict you); this, in turn, makes charitable acts all the more charitable. Under my father's system, you are owed those kind works.
But that sounds harsh, doesn't it? It's a little too abstract. Here's why he can't expect anything from me. Like I said, the thought hadn't crossed my mind. Further, I could have been in a hurry. Or maybe I, accidentally, remembered him not liking the chips.
For him (and my father), remembering to get someone something is a nice gesture. Thus, everyone must be expected to do it. Much like the illustration I gave 7 paragraphs ago, his system demands I must get him chips. Mine offers the choice. It also has this nice, built-in, fail-safe that allows for there to be a vast variety of reasons (that my brother may be unaware of) as to why I may not have gotten him the chips. In this instance, I simply forgot.
Further, I find more consistency in mine. I have a habit of waving to every person in our neighborhood; I like to be friendly and I like people so it makes sense to me. One time, after waving, my brother asks why. I give the same explanation. He, somewhat grouchily, responds (paraphrased), "I'm not going to wave just because someone expects that of me." Now, this is confusing to me; no one expects you to wave. He makes it seem like some irritating obligation. In his understanding of what you should and should not do, there's no reason for him to wave; in mine, that's the nice thing to do (indeed, I think my father would chastise him and say he ought to wave, were he a few years younger, because my father appreciates friendliness as a virtue). My system offers him the choice not to. There could be a vast variety of reasons why he might not (I certainly don't know it). But he doesn't owe anyone a wave.
This is the core reason my father expects obedience. In his mind, he's already figured it all out (I imagine the mountain of times I've shown him wrong or convinced him otherwise are just minor exceptions). So listen and do it his way already.
The dog wasn't hurt; indeed, we, as humans, did a damn good job of breeding those things because it really is just astonishing how forgiving and friendly their natures are. No, but it looked like it hurt. I dunno; if I had done something like that, I'd've immediately picked him up to let him know if was a mistake (forget the door for that moment). It was the way that it didn't even matter to my father that he'd basically pushed the dog into a wall (because God forbid something not obey his command) with thoroughly no concern for his well-being afterwards.
**note: I should take the moment to note that I'm not perfect. I make mistakes and I can't remember if I always own up to them. I know, when I start feeling more comfortable with my surroundings, I'll say things in my usual disparaging humor and forget to make certain people understand I'm not even remotely serious. I'd like to think that I'm open enough about my concern for others and my willingness to admit when I'm wrong or make mistakes (which, just as there may be evidence for the opposite, there certainly is evidence for). At least I hope.
There was a moment, in the familiarity of Caroline, Laila, and Monica tonight, where I had this worry that, once I achieved some form of stability that I was happy with, I would find that I actually didn't like even that and still wanted more. I shortly realized that this was because I was imagining the only realistic stability I might achieve is one so likely to fall apart and dissipate (I may never be able to articulate what it means every time someone reaches out to me in persistence, wanting to actually spend time in my presence). It is not being unhappy with stability that is my fear: it is never being able to achieve stability.
Responding with silence has become a norm within the past year; it's not one I like very much. Part of it is simply the inevitable result of living with disability. Much like, by my Senior year of college, showering on the weekdays all but ceased. As I said – to basically similar effect – somewhere else on this Xanga, it's not pretty but I'm functional. I have that much.
It's that reason that is the operative at play in cases like Margaret and Allan. In instances like with my dad and mom, it's far (far) more my complicated history with authority.
I have little doubt that the root of it goes back to the fact that I grew up in a controlling household. If my incessant attention to irrelevant details, that are greater in value at their whole, is any clue, it was the constant denial of making little choices as to what to wear or what I could keep in my room (or even how I wanted to order and organize my room) that, if not the basis of this issue, have some part in it. Sure, part of the issue at stake in those previously listed denials is also the refutation of my choice in an identity (something that always seemed, to me, to have been developed at a young age) but it's also that basic fact that "refutation" and "denial" are used in these sentences.
I was refused choice; in a sense (metaphorically), I could not freely move. Double this with my depression (the casual choice of the abled to climb the stairs is far more greatly complicated for those resigned to a wheelchair) and you may see a pattern.
I remember being strikingly affected when, while visiting a museum, one of the guards interrupted my thoughts as I was observing a painting: "Excuse me, sir? I don't mean to interrupt you, but we ask that patrons don't get to close to the artwork or point near them to avoid getting oil on the works." I feel – if my memory is of any reliability – like my issue with people interrupting me because they felt that I hadn't noticed something (walking out in front of something, being in someone's way, etc.) is a trait which formed far more frequently, if not in entirety, after this event though my reaction at the time seems to suggest to me otherwise. Regardless, my (internal) reaction wasn't annoyance and it wasn't indifference.
It was a sort of elation. I immediately told the guard that of course I would do this and thanked him for alerting me. I wanted to help this man.
The crucial point was that he had asked me. Rather than trying to exert control over me, he had offered the control to me.
Now, of course, there has to be limits. You cannot just do as you please in life with others respecting your control and authority. You have to mutually respect everyone else's control and authority. While I may deal with the "Why" of this rule later in this post (or certainly in another post, at the very least, since the functionality of this rule needs to be addressed to make it a valid rule), what I proposed in the previous sentence works when you follow the rule of allowing every person to do entirely as ze wishes up until the point that ze harms someone else. Hence, I would have accepted the guard to have said, "Please do be careful not to touch the artwork. Thank you." I may not have had such a positive reaction but there would have been absolutely no complaint from me. I'm visiting the museum; the artwork is the museum's; they have every right to tell me how to behave around it.
But the reason that I tell this story is that it was this moment that started to make me realize the explanation that can justify – I'll even hazard an absolute guess here – everything about me (I forget if I've mentioned it here but the fact that I came out of an abusing household and most of the people I've known have witnessed abuse can also be used to explain and justify every action, ideology, and way of thinking that make up my identity).
It is that I want control. Even if it's solely for the aim of implementing what I want (which, in almost all cases, is the betterment of others; I mention this because this is often not what we think of when it comes to desiring control. I like power; power is control. That it garners respect is certainly a perk but, at the end of the day, it always comes back to what I want to build and make. And 90% of that deals with the bettering of others).
I've been thinking about mentioning here for a while now that I think the reason that stupidity so vastly and flatly terrifies me is that, when someone is stupid (or is stupid about something), there really is no way to reach zem. Because you can't rationally proceed about the world when basic logical connections break down. While I very rarely am a fan of forced control, I am all for control by helping someone understand a line of reasoning. We often don't think of this as control (e.g. we don't think of it as control for us to accept that gravity is real and choosing not to deny gravity. Yet it is; I can't control someone in a way that can avoid zem making choices that will harm others if zir basic logical processes cannot comprehend gravity).
Which brings me back to my central point. Sometimes it's not fair. Allan or Margaret don't deserve to be put off. That's the disability working, reducing our expectations below the logical standard.
But with my parents, I have only ever asked them for one thing, really. Sure, I borrowed the car to go see friends (come college; I'm pretty sure my standard of getting out of the house in high school was far below average for others my age at the time). But that's really about it. I bend very easily; I'm pretty sure I've said it here before but I often don't actually fight back until backed into a corner (notice that the notion of control has been here all this time, even before this post?). So I've made concessions. My mother's controlling. So I let her make me apply to 13 colleges. Not necessarily what I would do; not really a bad thing, either, so I was more willing to do with that proposed idea. However, when it came to applying to Havard, I firmly said, "No." I didn't want to do it. I didn't want to go.
Ever since I ran away, my mother got nicer about certain things. It's interesting to see where her and I actually do have similarity (and the differences in that similarity). It's the play I would have made. I give up some, you give up some. It's the idea behind me bending, as I mentioned in the previous paragraph; I often play the long game: I'd much rather accumulate points to use later than fight out each battle full-on each time (depression partially necessitates this). As I've told my father, I choose my battles. My mother's been particularly lenient about some of her inanities lately; I overheard her a few hours ago telling my dad he should stop being so negative in the way he talks to me (of course, seeing as this is actual foul play rather than something that could truly be seen as a favor (you don't stop stealing from someone as a favor, for anything), this is problematic).
Yet when I said that I didn't think that it was a good idea for me to go to graduate school (something I should probably do a full post on some later time), I was resoundly told that wasn't an acceptable answer (it was said more leniently than that but, like I said, another post).
So when I desire silence from my parents, this is partially to see if I get the choice of being left alone. When I continue silence despite their protests, this is to see if they earn my trust to break that silence (word of advice: incessantly talking and refusing to accept that choice of silence are not ways to reassure that I have control).
Because, I would strongly argue, the only thing I have ever truly asked of them is to be left alone – and, by a lesser extension, the ability to make my own choices and time to formulate my own thoughts (clearly I don't make rushed decisions; I need to think). Interestingly, this is the one thing they have refused to give me.
My latest post got me thinking about women in suits. Have I ever mentioned here that I go weak-kneed for a woman in a suit? Because I totally do.
http://www.behance.net/gallery/Women-in-Tuxedos/1244923
While I strictly prefer straight-up men's clothing (rather than "men's clothing" which has been feminized; which is a good time to mention to everyone that you should always wear whatever the Hell you want and not let anyone (including me) be the arbiter for you), this site is amazing: http://girlsinsuits.tumblr.com.
I'm starting to hate, that there are certain topics most/all my friends fully endorse, yet I oppose (tea and anime are just two).
That sounds like a ridiculous sort of thing to be bothered over; I'm starting to learn, that I assign a startling amount of (perhaps arbitrary) importance to symbolic significance.
I don't do well with trust. I've said for years that I generally operate on a until-you-prove-otherwise sort of system: you get complete trust, until you do something to prove you don't deserve it. That said, I'm guarded; I have a history to speak as to why. I will view you with the highest respect, assume you capable, etc.; I will not, however, tell you anything potentially hurting to me, because, admittedly, I don't know that such information might not come back at me from you. To me, it doesn't compromise this viewpoint of starting with trust in meeting people, because the point of this idea of trust is giving you the chance to earn and establish it; there's no use in coming at someone distrustful, immediately shutting down means of communication. In this, the expectation to build bridges of trust is primed from the outset; it's your choice as to whether to make it dormant. I am friendly while able to still control how much I get hurt; some damage must still be taken in such a system, but it's of my design and control.
I mention this, because there is heavy significance in how I view my friends. Likely a remnant of my judgmental mother, I see them as a representative of me; I'm proud of them (I assume the use of the term "friend" covers the notion that I care about them; it should go without saying).
But, more than anything, I trust them. For different things, as their specialty suits (I often went to Tommy in my Senior year of high school regarding relationships or discussing sexuality; I would not have gone to Tommy regarding my siblings, nor do I think he would have been particularly interested).
As a slight aside, I take seriously art (food is always an art; I still resist seeing anime as anything than a tired genre that repeats itself and is divorced from reality in ways that fail to give me (at the very least) anything of importance). And if anyone I think highly of sticks on a particular issue (particularly for years), I give serious credence to their point. If a multitude of them do it, even more so.
As I said, arbitrary.
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