How to warp a kid’s sense of taste…combating silence: building wittiness.
Adventures du jour!
I’ve been thinking about my literal sense of taste lately. When I was a wee thing, I sucked my thumb. Which my mother *hated.* She did all kinds of things to try to get me to stop (short of being supportive, I suppose). Her techniques happened to include painting foul-tasting shit on my fingers and thumbs. The theory is that this stuff is supposed to taste so bad that kids stop sucking their thumbs/chewing their nails. Me? I just learned to appreciate the taste.
Yoga/movement: it’s getting easier to do turns with the (rubber-bottomed) yoga socks on. I’m not as light as I used to be, and dancing so far has added muscle and tone more than it has lost me any actual weight/mass. So I have to be careful tossing myself around, because I build up a lot of momentum. But I did get decent high kick out of myself the other day, and didn’t have to worry about slipping if I missed on the weight shift, coming down. Nice.
The isometric exercises I’ve been doing are getting easier. I’m still SORE in the mornings. The upper body ones are stupid difficult. AHHHHHHHHHH. But I love the better control I’m getting because of them. Knee still store.
Writing: Working on how to explain Three-Pointer’s plan, which relies on some basic, but non-obvious, aspects of technology. I also want to express him as a character.–I got most of the PLAN explained yesterday, but I’m not happy with the character voice part of it. I’m going to tear that out today and try again. I also started a new Kris & Dean class, Advanced Pacing.
In other news, I got a windfall (an expected payment, but I thought it’d be smaller) and bought some HAMILTON tickets. I’ve heard the soundtrack a bunch on this one (unlike HADESTOWN), so no big surprises here. But I expect it will be a delight.
…
Thinking more about combating silence. This is long.
One of the big elements that seems to be effective against trolls and naysayers is being able to think on one’s feet and respond quickly (which I’m here going to call “being witty”). Does this carry over into combating silence in difficult topics? It does for me, usually, but I haven’t really thought through *how.* So I’m going to noodle it out here.
I wasn’t born witty, but I grew up around witty people. Gradually, I got better at the witty part. I am now witty. Maybe not always the wittiest person in the room; part of being witty is knowing when to stop, though, and let other people shine.
What I learned:
–Being witty starts with understanding that conversations are often a game.
–Because I was surrounded by layers and layers and LAYERS of this game constantly, I grew up assuming that all conversations were game-related. I sometimes get caught in a serious conversation without realizing. I rarely get caught in a gamified conversation thinking it’s serious. (Except with the ex, because WOW was that a long game.)
–Some people play the game to become closer; others play the game to amuse themselves and others; others play the game to defend themselves from having to seriously consider anything; still others play the game to control others (the gaslighters and trolls).
–The game gets played because saying what one really thinks and feels can trigger an attack by an insecure asshole, particularly within tightly-knit ingroups.
–When the game is being played, there are always two conversations going on (at a minimum): the one you’re supposed to be having, and the one that subverts the first conversation (there may also be a real conversation as well).
–The techniques for this second conversation come down to an awareness that the supposed “meaning” of the first conversation is bullshit. Like, say, two women hate each other but have to get along while washing dishes together in a church basement. The first conversation will appear to be a conversation about their kids. The second conversation will be a bunch of covert, barbed insults. The *real* conversation, inasmuch as there is one, is that the two women agree to keep their enmity out of public view.
–Why don’t people just “get real” with each other? “Getting real” with each other might cause an irreparable rift. Almost every time I have “gotten real” with a friend or family member, I have lost the relationship. Being part of a tightly-knit ingroup means living with the threat of being kicked out. Me telling my mom off was a conversation that had real financial and social consequences.
–Within these ingroups, the main way to reconcile serious differences often becomes this ongoing game. Usually a win is gained by “losing” strategically, that is, by offering an asshole an ego-boost they can’t turn down, in exchange for what seems like a minor concession.
Because of the way I was raised, I assume that all conversations are expected to conform to a set of unstated rules that allow for a surface conversation as well as codes that indicate that the surface conversation is either false or not the whole story.–Moreover, these rules are all “house rules,” and vary wildly. I test the boundaries of a conversation as a matter of course now, without really thinking about it.
Crack a dry joke or tell a pun: what response does it get? If the other person responds or ups the ante, I know we’re at least partly on the same wavelength and have agreed to meet on a level beyond the surface conversation. At some level, the conversation is really about asking whether the other person is okay. As long as the jokes keep getting traded, the other person is functional enough to play. WHEW.
Get an outraged response? The other person can’t or doesn’t play and may be an asshole, someone to whom the surface conversation is all there ever will, or should, be. These people are scary for me to be around; there are threads of abusive personalities on both sides of my family, people with the power to disrupt lives and livelihoods. I always walk on tiptoe around these people, although I try to keep in mind that it might just be that they haven’t played before or I’ve hit a sore spot somehow. It’s happened.
Get a confused or neutral response? If it’s from someone I’m used to getting playful responses from, I worry; I’m used to it indicating a certain level of depression. I’ll check up on people if I catch it! That one side of the family, death has always been very close. Not me personally, but still.
If it’s from someone I’m not sure knows how to play, I’ll observe further. I may do a little coaching, mostly to see if they *want* to play. “Ah, that’s just my Midwestern sense of humor. You know I like you if I’m giving you shit.” Stuff like that.
How does this all relate to silence and lack thereof? Look at the people you know who are posting about controversial topics. They’re often the people who are GOOD at this game. Being witty means being able to recognize when a conversation is not a real conversation, but a game. In short, they feel relatively comfortable handling bullshit quickly and feel more or less safe with NOT being silent.
It’s a bullshit game, but because it’s a relatively safe way to work around assholes within an ingroup, it’s a good game to master. It’s not the only set of tools that can make it easy to speak up, but it’s definitely *a* set of tools.
I myself am a bullshit artist; I’ve been focusing on using my powers with writing fiction, but I can use the same powers to fuck up an asshole–or get them to concede a point–if I have to. Please DO summon me (and/or your other game-playing friends) if you’re having issues with some asswipe who’s making you second-guess your entire existence.
Want to practice? I’m up to play. Start with a pun or a joke (or make fun of me, but only about something you find cute or endearing) and @ me. Want me to be serious? Tell me that you’re in pain on some level or that you just want to brag, or celebrate, or whatever. “I just want to–” means you want to keep the conversation on one level and you want to be genuine about it. Not sure on what level my dumbass comment was? Eh, just ask. “I don’t have the brain cells to keep up today…just TELL me.”
I will.
I found Heston’s Feasts online! Mischievous food from one of the best living chefs, Heston Blumenthal, owner of Michelin three-star restaurant The Fat Duck, a bucket list destination of mine. Linked to the Victorian/Alice in Wonderland episode (free).
A lovely stand of trees near my neighborhood.
Midjourney image: a face with fractal wrinkles. Okay, so the wrinkles aren’t actually fractal, or you’d be able to see the overall face in miniature. But I’m finding it interesting how Midjourney handles the idea of fractals: inaccurately, yet interestingly.