When I meet people (say, in a class, bar, party, whatever), male or female, things are generally light, funny, never awkward, and always enjoyable. But then after a certain grace period, things tend to become stale, awkward, strange, and silent. And I think I’m entirely to blame for this. But then again, maybe not. Let’s find out.
You see, I have difficulty navigating social situations, and I imagine that’s not immediately recognizable. From afar, I usually look like I’m having a great time, laughing it up, everyone is smiling, and we’re all more or less getting along quite nicely. And that, I suppose, is what sticks in the minds of spectators: the initial fun, joy, laughs, comfort.
And that’s just it. At the beginning of any social encounter with a new person, my wit, humor, and overall comedic excellence rears its tripartite head, breaking the ice and disarming fears of awkward silence. However, this sort of tactical prowess can only go so far. At some point, whatever burgeoning relationship there is will require some sort of tending. It’s like a plant: you first put it in the ground, and then you get it the requisite amount of sun, carbon dioxide, and water. With a relationship, even one whose endgame involves nothing more than playful, convivial banter in a classroom atmosphere, you need to grow it, it needs to be initially disarmed, and then it needs nurturing.
Wit, humor, laughter – those are the ingredients for disarming. The ingredients for nurturing a relationship? Mutual empathy; something, sadly, I don’t seem to possess in large quantities.
Because let’s be honest: I have two talents aside from (minor) musical wizardry: knowledge and humor/jokes/comedy/wit. I adapt them beautifully to social situations, for I always have something to say about nearly everything, and it’s hard for me not to make someone laugh, no matter the situation. The problem, though, is that these two talents, in the realm of social discourse and interaction, are mere facades. They’re not illusory, not that sort of facade. They’re superficial, just doorways and windows. After a point, jokes and knowledge cease to be useful and relevant in social interaction. After a point, you have to, in my case, dig deep and muster some sort of empathy for other people and relate to them. That’s how you go deeper than the surface, deeper than jokes and knowledge.
And I’m not very good at that. There’s some barrier in me that makes it difficult to turn on and off that little switch marked “empathy.” It’s not that I’m a naturally private person, not at all. I share details with people that one normally doesn’t blurt out until farther along the relationship road. (I don’t see a problem with this, either. I think it’s kind of strange that we hide so much of ourselves from other people.) And I don’t think it has anything to do with repressed feelings or whatever. I wasn’t abused as a child or neglected (I don’t think…). So what is it?
Well, I think it boils down to my default setting “hateotherpeople.” I’m naturally attuned to the idiocies and misfortunes of others and the correlation between those misfortunes and that person’s own (in)ability or (lack of) talent. Some people have a default setting labeled “loveotherpeople” Jesus-style, and others, like me, only have “hateotherpeople.”
Why is it that I’m so naturally offended by the missteps of others? I think I’m disgusted when other people screw up and it’s their fault, when they make a mistake because they weren’t paying attention, or they didn’t think and prepare beforehand, or they didn’t put in the necessary practice. And people are usually culpable for the majority of their mistakes and misfortunes.
“Hatingotherpeople” is not good, obviously It’s a bad default setting, but it is one that has served me well in the past. By “hatingotherpeople” I don’t have to undergo the normal period of misery required when contemplating the tragedy of strangers. But then again, I also have a hard time enjoying the fruits of the fortune of others.
There is evidence, though, that the ice is melting and that I’m starting to, you know, feel emotions not directed at or related to myself. I won’t go into details, but the change in weather, while uncomfortable (change is always unsettling), is, no doubt, a good thing.
What about when you read? Don’t you experience a lot of empathy then?
Quoting you on Graham Greene:
“It’s during this free fall that we realize with spine-shuddering certainty the mess we’re in as human beings, the mess Greene is trying to present to us. The regret – no, the sadness that Thomas Fowler expresses in the final paragraphs is the same sadness we sometimes realize when presented with the world in all its miserable, desolate glory.”
Personally I find Graham Greene’s books hard to read though he was one of my dear mother’s favourite authors. I find it hard to empathise with his sense of desolation.
I struggled to empathise with a lot people when I was 20 or so. I was very depressed and filled with hate. Then I read a book called Becoming a Writer by Dorothea Brande. One passage in there struck me like a blow on the head. I no longer have the book but it was something like “There is no place for hate or envy if you want to write. You should approach the world with the same sense of wonder as a little child.”
When I look back to my twenties I realise I missed some great opportunities because I didn’t spend long enough finding out about the people I met. People everywhere are amazing. I meet inspring people nearly every day. I seldom miss an opportunity now and I feel much happier than I did back then.
Comment by Joseph Grinton — July 4, 2009 @ 2:42 am
I totally agree that people everywhere are amazing. It’s certainly something I believe in. I think my trouble is getting to know people. It’s tough for me to get through the first few doors. I’m getting better though.
I’d say, as well, that I emphasize when I read more than when I’m encountering real people, and this is something that should change. Hell, I choke up reading the Iliad but I don’t feel much when people tell me tragic life histories. And that quote about “hate or envy if you want to write” is something I’m beginning to hear with greater frequency. Something tells me it’s probably true.
Well, onward and upward. That’s the plan.
Comment by filthylogician — July 4, 2009 @ 4:15 pm