November 23^rd, 2004

So where the hell have I been the last couple of weeks? (I hear you exclaim--well, actually, I don't have to listen very hard; people have been asking ...)

It sort of reminds me of a few lines of lyrics I once wrote but could never shoehorn into any of my songs:

You want to go out
But I want to stay in
You want to know why
Then you ask where I've been
Well, I've been around
But I've been living in sin

And making trouble ...

It's written on a page and resides inside a folder of other such ideas of mine and Martin's labelled, "(In-) (Over-) (Re-) Active Lyrics." (When we were younger, Martin and I thought we were so cute ... )

One more, then I'll get to today's point:

We were also going to do a cover of the Irish Rovers' "The Unicorn" called, "The Dictator" (sung to the same tune):

You got yer Green Anarchists
And Libertarians
Reformers and Fascists and Republicans
Yer Democrats and Communists
But sure as yer born
The most corrupt of all is the Dictator

OK, OK, enough of that.

* * *

So there's a woman who works in the office space next to ours. We worked together a long time ago at another computer software company whose name is irrelevant.

She's one of those people that, whenever there is a crisis of some kind--say when the air conditioning was out, or if the car dealership downstairs is having another noisy promotion--she will go out of her way to let me know that any misery I may be experiencing is a tiny fraction of the misery and misfortune that she is having to endure.

It could be irritating if I let it, but I know something about such stories of "sheer hardship" and "horror" that she doesn't. We are middle-class reasonably-comfortable, predominantly-white office workers, constantly fighting off that sense that we are aimlessly wandering through life. Around the time we lose sight of what we value (because nothing has happened to disturb it in the last little while), we create and use stories for meaning--I am no different, of course.*

Stories are what we use to defend ourselves ... what we create to assert an identity ... what we make up to define ourselves and therefore breathe life into ourselves. Without our stories we think we are nothing.

Have you ever heard of the Safe World Theory? It's been primarily identified as a feminist theory, which is a real shame; it should be applied to all living creatures, and yet 90% of the population is not interested in it while actively practicing it. And it's so painfully simple that even a red-neck can understand it.

Put in plain words:

The Safe World Theory states that bad things can happen to good people. No matter how careful or prepared people are, they cannot remove the chance that something bad will happen to them. Now people don't like that fact; they like to think that they can prepare for any eventuality you care to mention ... so they must adopt an attitude towards people upon whom misfortune falls that "This terrible thing happened to you because you weren't careful. You weren't smart. You weren't prepared." You see, by blaming the victim, and making it the victim's fault for not foreseeing something bad, they can continue to wander the dark dangerous alleys of their own lives, whistling the tune, "How Safe it is When You're Wonderful Like Me."

So let's get back to our storytelling natures, shall we? I highlighted a negative effect of Safe-World-ism on other people, but there is a negative effect of Safe-World-ism on the practitioner as well. Namely: family and friends, good health, the things we enjoy, the good habits we have, the love we feel, the very people we are ... these are all lost to Safe-World-ism. Because we want really hard to believe that they will never leave us, we undervalue them. Then we forget them. Then we have nothing ... not even a little character of our own.

So we invent these infernal tales of woe about how bad the traffic was or how hot it got in the Summer without the air-conditioning working ... we define ourselves by fiction and fib, exaggeration and exhortation.

How dreary we can be ...

_,.-~=^'`'^=~-.,_,.-~=^'`'^=~-.,_

* I have to keep saying things like, "me included," and, "I do it too," as something of a self-defence against people who like to send me emails reminding me that I am human also. I guess they feel personally insulted by what I say, and so go looking for justifications everywhere they can, including turnabouts.

But, as I continue to discover in my own self, just having an observation made about oneself does not mean that it is a criticism. E.g., I was once told that I was more of a "thing" person than a "money" person. I got defensive and upset, and tried to deny the "charge" until that person added, "It wasn't meant to be a criticism, just an observation ... I actually kind of envy you!"

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