Dynamic Hypocrisy

I think about neckties. Like besides to look fancy, why in the first place? To cover the neck? But that’s what collars are for.

But like were collars really shitty back then? So shitty that you needed additional fabric to keep it together? That seems like a clunky solution.

It’s weird that a clunky solution to a shitty solution would now be revered as the fancy thing that fancy people do. 

Wouldn’t the super fancy have nice collars that fit their neck?

Is that why all the futuristic clothing in sci-fi worlds are bereft of neck ties? Is Darth Vader the fanciest one of them all with a fully bespoke body suit?

As we talked about last week about hammering away what you see as problems in other people’s lives. Where is that line between leaving things alone, and intervening? 

When do you let sleeping dogs lie? 

We having drug and alcohol interventions. It’s uncomfortable, but we tend to support that.

And something like leaving socks on the floor is more a parental/life partner thing. (And a selective battle for roommates.)

But if those are the two points on a spectrum, what about all the other things?

What if they’re dating someone truly toxic? 

Are they truly toxic? Or is it your personal opinion? Do you just find them annoying? They actually good for that person? 

Is it after they break up and get together for the fourth time? The fifth time?

Never? 

I think every time I talk about this, it ends at an impasse. Too many scenarios. Too many variables. Too many contextual cues. 

But it’s an interesting question. What are worth the exceptions to the consent rule? Nothing? Everything? Most? Some?

When you’re a hammer, you sometimes forget to ask if people want things hammered or not. Sometimes you think, this is definitely a nail situation, and they’ll be grateful later. And then you’re just shocked that people are mad that you tried to hammer them. 

So even if it’s light hammering with a snippet of advice here, or a tip there–let’s ask them if they want it. 

This is a message to myself, The Hammer. 

I, by a long shot, do not know enough about football/soccer to make this metaphor. But I did play the video game FIFA for two weeks, so close enough?

In the game, you can make your custom player. So for vanity sake, I made one in my likeness. But the first decision to make is what position you’ll play.

It defaults on striker. The obvious scorer on the team. Sits at the front lines poised to attack and score. The was a lot of appeal in the simplicity. I mean it’s a video game, and it’s my leisure time. Makes sense. But I looked around first. 

And then there’s defenders. No point in scoring a lot, if the other team is gonna score more. But that didn’t feel right for me.

Goalie? Way too hard. Even if I get to use my hands. 

So that leaves the mid-field. But the middle is ambiguous. It’s both offense and defense. But individually it varies a lot.  I could lean defense, and be the first line. 

Or I could be a CAM. A center attacking mid-fielder. That felt right. The conductor of the attack, first to orchestrate and pass the ball as needed. Or…if the situation called for it: attack myself. 

It’s complex yet exciting. Looking at the enemy’s half of the field, and strategizing in real time to achieve a goal.

I think I that’s how I like to work in a team. Not a pure bulldozer nor always the one to clean up, but a versatile role player that navigates the project to its goals.

Maybe more internal monologue from myself to the outward world. But everyone always says they don’t expect perfection.

And they probably mean that. 

But no one ever talks about if that’s so, then how far away from perfection is their expectations. 

Like is it like “I don’t expect perfection, but you should still probably be 80% there.”

Or 70%? 30%? 

0%? Zero? Like you can totally bomb, and that’s cool. 

Does it change over time? Over different situations? 

If you’re an athlete, is it okay at the beginning of the season, but by the final game–you better be near god-like? 

Or a surgeon? Can a surgeon run be 70% from perfection, and still have their patients turn out well? 

Those are higher stakes, but what about every day life? How many times can you spill the milk carton before it’s time for a sit-down? 

People may not expect perfection, but then we should clarify where “not 100%” means along the 0% to 99.9%. 

I keep forgetting that people can’t read my mind.

Also, it doesn’t help that I had parents that left things unsaid. They weren’t “words of affirmation” sort of people. They were “acts of service” sort of people.

My mom showed she cared not because she said so because she cooked for you. My dad didn’t say he was proud because he was much better at pointing what to do better for next time. 

So I inherited and embodied this way of loving. 

Imagine my surprise when I start interacting with the outside world, and they don’t get that I like them. But I never said it, so why don’t they know?

And imagine my horror when people don’t seem to like my dad’s method of pointing out all the things they did wrong.

It’s been a rocky process to expand on how my parents taught me to treat people, and to translate my thoughts into things that other people can perceive.

It’s like…hard.

I keep forgetting. Despite how many times I re-watch Bob Thurman’s “We can be Buddhas” TED Talk. He has a line where he describes that one own’s problems like how tired we are today or how bad work is ultimately too small of problems for our brains. It’s too boring of the same problems.

And it’s when you start doing things for other people, that their lives and concerns are far more interesting to deal with: that’s when you get happier. Not re-visiting the same old question of why you’re aren’t happier to being with.

I keep on goddamn forgetting this. Blah. 

When I took painting class back in college, it never looked right to me. 

Like they were fine (awful in the grand scale of paintings, but fine for a sophomore undergraduate class) but they never looked like what was in my brain.

Fast-forward to now, eleven years later, and I’m painting my apartment. I buy cans of paint, roller brushes, the whole setup. And I start painting.

And it still doesn’t feel right. It’s not feeling like how I’ve seen paint in other homes and houses.

So about a wall in, it hits me. 

I’m a stingy motherfucker. I’m cheap as fuck. 

I always admired the pieces in the museum where they almost look like sculpture. The globs of paint that swirl like ice cream off the wall. They cast their own shadows.

Rewind back to college, and I recall how poor I was. And it was “Oh duh, I didn’t want to use all that paint on an awful painting.” It was stingy back then, and I was being stingy now.

So I took a deep breath, and dipped the brush a little bit deeper. I went back for a second coat. I lamented having to go back to the paint store, and buy more cans. 

But goddammit, the walls actually look decent now. Van Gogh would be proud. Sorta. Not really. But that’s not the point. 

Firmly in the phase of “adult,” I think I’m finding my way of doing things.

I used to view myself as oppositional to the alpha male. The aggression, the need to dominant, the need for eyes on accomplishments. 

But I’m realizing that I’m not innocent of those things. It was hubris that made me think I was humble.

But I like being recognized. I like being valued. I like being useful.

The method of which I do things things though is quieter. The desire is the same. It’s to have successful outcomes. To come out better than how I came in. 

How I accomplish that, however, isn’t to be the brick. I’m too unsure of reality and outcomes to be anyone’s brick. My skills is in permutations. Feeling out where things could go wrong. Recognizing when hazards or opportunities are happening. 

I smooth out the journey, filling in the gaps and making sure the bricks don’t crush each other in the process.

Ultimately, people call them brick walls, and not mortar walls. But that’s fine, at this point, I know you need both make a wall successful. I’m just getting more comfortable with the idea that I’m not a brick. I’m the other part, and that’s also needed and valued.

Nothing too deep here. Adventure Time just ended, and rewatching the last few seasons to catch up to the finale, I was reminded with how much I love the show. 

It’s expansive, detailed, unflinching in both exploring big and small stories. The characters grow, and plots surprise. There’s no boundaries to animation. They bring in guest artists and give them entire episodes to explore. 

By the end, they practice deeply healthy emotional relationships and express it freely. 

It’s a great show. I’ll miss it.

Meanwhile, I also love Rick & Morty. I recommend both shows freely. But Rick & Morty feels different. It also pushes plot to what animation allows. They explore emotional dynamics too with loyalty, family, and guilt. 

And yet it’s a bit more mechanical, a bit more iconoclastic. 

It rebels against expectation and structure whereas Adventure Time seems more harmonious with its medium. Rick & Morty speaks to my engineer/researcher side. When it does a parody, its an exercise in how much parody it can do without bursting. When it does meta fourth-wall breaking, its an exercise in how much it can wink at the audience while nudging the same audience with “Hey, you see what we’re doing? You get it.”

I love both shows, but again I recommend them for very different reasons.