A Change of Heart

Okay, so I've been giving some thought to my last post.  I had an interesting conversation with Mom about why she doesn't journal, and she said something I'd never heard someone say.  "I'm afraid that if I write it down, I'll change my mind about it the next day, and what I've written will seem uninformed or wrong.  What if I disagree with myself?" 

Now, to this I replied, "The whole point is to disagree with yourself.  You can only write from where you are, not where you were or where you will be.  Tomorrow you will be somewhere else - maybe even someone else - and that's the fun of it.  Tracking how your feelings and beliefs changed is one of the major reasons to write, because no other chronicle can so accurately preserve your own journey."  For instance, I look at my posts from early 2007, and I don't even recognize the person who was writing to you.  I was drunk every night, I was smoking - I can still remember one night, smoking on the steps with Scott, where I blurted out my entire life story while shivering uncontrollably (a particularly low moment).  Or the time I walked in front of a tractor-trailer while yelling to Jess, "Why won't you love me for what I am?"  I'm not that person anymore.  But!  I *was* that person at one point, I've *been* that person, and so now when I look at my life and meaninglessly wish for it to be more interesting, I can look back and go, "I've had it more interesting, and it was really not that great."

So, the whole point of that introduction was this: I think I'd like to amend the vitriol of my last post.  It's hard for me sometimes, because I want my writing to be entertaining, so I never know how strong a viewpoint to take.  It seems like the stronger the opinion, the more it affects people and the more entertaining it becomes.  And I stand by much of what I wrote.

I think I was imagining some very particular scenarios in which I have interacted with strangers.  This weekend, as my grandparents and family asked me about my job, I realized that they weren't evaluating my worth as a person.  They were relieved to know that I was going to be okay.  "Martin is okay," I can hear them thinking.  "I don't have to worry about him anymore."  And they were genuinely excited, like I'd passed some big test, and the whole interaction went easier because of that newfound peace.  I still stand by my loathing of the "What do you do?" question.  It is an evaluative probe that enables us, unconsciously, to rank people.  "Oh you work at McDonald's?"  I can hear their social status careening in a ball of flames from here, and that shouldn't be the case.

I like Vicky's idea of asking questions that are interesting to the person you're questioning.  Think about how different the world would look if we actually cared that the questions we were asking were somehow relevant to the person we were talking about.  Now I want to know what those questions would look like so I can ask them.

And the marriage bit: you have to understand my context.  I'd just come from a weekend spent with Jessie's family at a funeral, so we interacted with an enormous number of older people who only knew us by the fact that we were getting married.  I was like, "Hello?  I am my own person, too."  When friends or co-workers ask about it I don't think, "Screw you for asking."   Well, okay, maybe sometimes, but not for the reason which I originally insisted.

So.  I am big enough to change my mind.  And I still hate that question, and will not ask it anymore.  And I will yell at you if I see you ask it, so be forewarned.  My new question is: "What are you interested in nowadays?"  Further revision to be expected.

Hope you guys are doing well.  This is post #99.  I wonder what the heck I'm going to write for #100...       

Martin