I'm going to see a man about a bridge.
A while back I posted an anonymous ad on Craigslist. I've got this funny idea (I've had since I was little) that you shouldn't let arbitrary standards block your impulses. I always felt that the stuffy prep-school grid I was thrust into was breeding out of me any of the interesting, creative things I might have accomplished if I'd grown up in the fluid, Bohemian environment I'd always envisioned. I think I overcompensated.
It ocurred to me recently that, if I couldn't talk myself out of potentially self-destructive impulses (because I can't manage to talk myself out of this line of thinking), I could at least stop bothering other people. If I was unwilling to not do something because clearly "it won't accomplish anything, and you'll just end up hurt", I could stop myself by saying, "he doesn't want to hear that".
It doesn't stop the instinct, though. So I started trying to find ways to satisfy the impulse without bothering other people. I tried an anonymous Craigslist ad. (I've tried saying things directly, but prefaced with a 'You really don't have to respond' kind of comment, but that doesn't go over.) I've dreamed up huge projects involving anonymous letters and post office boxes. Most recently, I've thought about making annotations to old hate mail and using them as matts for framing love-themed black and white photographs (I may still do this one, actually, as soon as I'm convinced it doesn't violate any kind of confidence).
I had another discussion the other night about one-sided communication. As frequently happens, the Craigslist ad came up, as did the fact that the person it was written to answered it. The response to this anecdote was also the same one I always get: "Well, clearly you meant for him to read it".
For one thing: Why does the outcome retroactively affect the intention? Also: Is there any way to satisfy your need to say something to someone in particular, but still give them the choice as to whether or not they want to hear it?
I realize this second question is a little silly, especially given how frequently I encounter my own miraculous (though, I think, perfectly human) ability to completely forget (or, just, fail to hear) things that are said to me, especially if they don't fit into a pattern I like.
This story has gotten too long already, and I would stop, go back, and rewrite it later if I weren't late already and under some strange delusion that this really ought to be posted today.
The real problem is: I also act under the (possibly mistaken) belief that deciding what other people do and do not want to hear is arrogant, and that, if you care about them, you should give everything that could affect the relationship over into some kind of neutral zone. This doesn't mean that I want other people to take it, or that I'm placing blame or trying to evoke guilt. It means, contrary to the way it looks, that I care very deeply, and hold whoever it is in the highest respect. It also means that, if I suspect that a burgeoning relationship (which term I use in the broadest possible sense) has the potential to be meaningful (which I decide very infrequently, as it turns out) I shove way too much way too fast onto whoever it is, to avoid any possibility of unintentionally misleading them about /anything/.
I did one interesting thing in the middle of all this teenage muddle about stuffing a creative mind into a math body: One day, after an unusually lively, but me-centered debate in 1st Period English, I wondered what effect I'd had on the whole thing. I knew the same teacher taught the same curriculum (and was planning the same debate) 8th period, so I decided to go, and to keep my mouth shut, to see if I couldn't get a better handle on what people were thinking by disengaging.
So my plan is this: Instead of whining, I'm going to take the good advice from the—I don't even know what to call him: lost friend? intimate stranger? conversant acquaintance?—who doesn't seem to understand and plan to spend all available funds on fancy dinners for other people. I'm also going to do my damndest to avoid whatever it is that overwhelms certain interactions and let my dinner partner determine the mood. (I'll even promise to keep my mouth shut for up to, say, three hours, if asked.) So, there you have it—If I have wronged you, now's your chance to cash in. You determine the level of the offense (anything from Baguette Box to Elemental) and, unless it seems totally unreasonable, I'll take you out. You set the mood, and decide how much (if anything) I get to contribute to conversation. At the end, if you're still convinced I have wronged you, I'll pick up the tab (whatever it is); if hatchets have all been buried (or misunderstandings allayed), maybe we'll split the check (your call).
In the meantime, I will also be accepting anonymous e-mail for exactly one month. Leave your address here, or, if there's interest, I'll set up a temporary gmail account.
p.s. This show will come to L.A., San Francisco, and New York soon, schedule dependent on available funds.
p.p.s. In anticipation of the question, "Was this post written to anyone in particular?" I'll repeat something I've said quite a few times, though mostly in private: While things I write may frequently be inspired by or, in some way, /for/ one person in particular, I never put them on the internet until they're relevant to a number of different situations, either because I've abstracted far enough away, or because the same situation has cropped up a number of different times. Partly this is for privacy, partly it is because I intend this to be about me and not about anyone else, and partly it is to relieve the burden of recieving information (which, I guess, is exactly what I'm trying to get at in this long-winded invitation). Which is to say, if the sentiment resonates, I suppose, yes, it is in some way for you, but the answer to "was that me you were talking about?" or "was that written to so-and-so?" is always 'no'.
It ocurred to me recently that, if I couldn't talk myself out of potentially self-destructive impulses (because I can't manage to talk myself out of this line of thinking), I could at least stop bothering other people. If I was unwilling to not do something because clearly "it won't accomplish anything, and you'll just end up hurt", I could stop myself by saying, "he doesn't want to hear that".
It doesn't stop the instinct, though. So I started trying to find ways to satisfy the impulse without bothering other people. I tried an anonymous Craigslist ad. (I've tried saying things directly, but prefaced with a 'You really don't have to respond' kind of comment, but that doesn't go over.) I've dreamed up huge projects involving anonymous letters and post office boxes. Most recently, I've thought about making annotations to old hate mail and using them as matts for framing love-themed black and white photographs (I may still do this one, actually, as soon as I'm convinced it doesn't violate any kind of confidence).
I had another discussion the other night about one-sided communication. As frequently happens, the Craigslist ad came up, as did the fact that the person it was written to answered it. The response to this anecdote was also the same one I always get: "Well, clearly you meant for him to read it".
For one thing: Why does the outcome retroactively affect the intention? Also: Is there any way to satisfy your need to say something to someone in particular, but still give them the choice as to whether or not they want to hear it?
I realize this second question is a little silly, especially given how frequently I encounter my own miraculous (though, I think, perfectly human) ability to completely forget (or, just, fail to hear) things that are said to me, especially if they don't fit into a pattern I like.
This story has gotten too long already, and I would stop, go back, and rewrite it later if I weren't late already and under some strange delusion that this really ought to be posted today.
The real problem is: I also act under the (possibly mistaken) belief that deciding what other people do and do not want to hear is arrogant, and that, if you care about them, you should give everything that could affect the relationship over into some kind of neutral zone. This doesn't mean that I want other people to take it, or that I'm placing blame or trying to evoke guilt. It means, contrary to the way it looks, that I care very deeply, and hold whoever it is in the highest respect. It also means that, if I suspect that a burgeoning relationship (which term I use in the broadest possible sense) has the potential to be meaningful (which I decide very infrequently, as it turns out) I shove way too much way too fast onto whoever it is, to avoid any possibility of unintentionally misleading them about /anything/.
I did one interesting thing in the middle of all this teenage muddle about stuffing a creative mind into a math body: One day, after an unusually lively, but me-centered debate in 1st Period English, I wondered what effect I'd had on the whole thing. I knew the same teacher taught the same curriculum (and was planning the same debate) 8th period, so I decided to go, and to keep my mouth shut, to see if I couldn't get a better handle on what people were thinking by disengaging.
So my plan is this: Instead of whining, I'm going to take the good advice from the—I don't even know what to call him: lost friend? intimate stranger? conversant acquaintance?—who doesn't seem to understand and plan to spend all available funds on fancy dinners for other people. I'm also going to do my damndest to avoid whatever it is that overwhelms certain interactions and let my dinner partner determine the mood. (I'll even promise to keep my mouth shut for up to, say, three hours, if asked.) So, there you have it—If I have wronged you, now's your chance to cash in. You determine the level of the offense (anything from Baguette Box to Elemental) and, unless it seems totally unreasonable, I'll take you out. You set the mood, and decide how much (if anything) I get to contribute to conversation. At the end, if you're still convinced I have wronged you, I'll pick up the tab (whatever it is); if hatchets have all been buried (or misunderstandings allayed), maybe we'll split the check (your call).
In the meantime, I will also be accepting anonymous e-mail for exactly one month. Leave your address here, or, if there's interest, I'll set up a temporary gmail account.
p.s. This show will come to L.A., San Francisco, and New York soon, schedule dependent on available funds.
p.p.s. In anticipation of the question, "Was this post written to anyone in particular?" I'll repeat something I've said quite a few times, though mostly in private: While things I write may frequently be inspired by or, in some way, /for/ one person in particular, I never put them on the internet until they're relevant to a number of different situations, either because I've abstracted far enough away, or because the same situation has cropped up a number of different times. Partly this is for privacy, partly it is because I intend this to be about me and not about anyone else, and partly it is to relieve the burden of recieving information (which, I guess, is exactly what I'm trying to get at in this long-winded invitation). Which is to say, if the sentiment resonates, I suppose, yes, it is in some way for you, but the answer to "was that me you were talking about?" or "was that written to so-and-so?" is always 'no'.
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