Indirectness

“What we say is also an important clue to what we mean, but we don’t always say what we mean in so many words. We balance the conflicting needs for involvement and independence by hinting and picking up hints, by refraining from saying some things and surmising what other people meaning from what they refrain from saying. Linguists refer to the way people meaning what they don’t exactly say as indirectness.”

When I went home for the Christmas holidays I started to notice myself regressing. In all honesty, at uni I’m the “mother” of the group, and even though I’m the youngest I’m probably one of the more mature ones. I like to think so anyways. But at home, I’m the precocious and misunderstood teenager who battled her parents every day for a good two to four years. I do feel sorry for my parents, but it got me thinking…what is so different at home so that I behave differently, without even realizing it?

I started to notice conversations such as:

“How’s the room tidying going?”

“ Dad, I don’t need to tidy my room.”

“Ummm…I think you do young lady.”

And:

“Beth, would you like to do the dishwasher?”

AND:

“What, we have to eat all together?”

“FINE. FINE. *Generally blows her gasket in fury and angst*”

Old Deborah Tannen may be gaga on many accounts of linguistic rules and opinions, but this element of indirectness actually has a point. By treating me in an indirect and passive way, the idea is that I don’t get pissed off by being told what to do. However, by my parents not saying what they really mean a lot of the time, I don’t twig what the hell the want from me.

MISCOMMUNCATION = ARGUMENT.

It has to be said, in many cases this scheme of metamessaging does work. The tone of voice, facial expressions and gestures are all dead give away clues. But why do we as a species have such a backwards way of communicating? Why is it so difficult to say exactly what we mean?

“Yes, that does make you look fat, but this other dress makes you look hot.”

“Actually, I’d really like it if you helped me out.”

“Please can I have a sandwich too?”

Doesn’t seem so hard. But you know as well as I do, it really is. Not sure why to be honest. But I know that when you say/do nothing, expecting something happen, chances are it won’t. An example:

Cynthia told Greg she was a little upset because he had fixed himself a snack and not made anything for her. Greg was confused, because Cynthia never mentioned she was hungry or that she wanted anything. Cynthia rolled her eyes and said she wasn’t hungry; it was just that he didn’t think to ask.

Classic. Admittedly, this is stereotypically a more female trait, but men do it just the same.

As a person who loses her temper a lot and gets wound up easily, I think it is important to remember that not everyone is thinking the same as you are. In fact, it is probable that no one is. So, before I get offended or upset, I need to consider; what is their train of thought? Maybe the world would be a simpler place if everyone was just straight with each other, and didn’t rely on backwards messages. Maybe it would be havoc, and everyone would be in angst 24/7. But for the most part, I think speaking our minds is a good idea. Being truthful and honest may be hard, but if we are clever and use this ridiculous language to our advantage, I’m sure honesty will be appreciated.

I’ve said before that truth is the bully everyone pretends to like. I stand by this, but a bully is always needed to keep everyone in order…sometimes. What would we be without levels, rules, and a balance of power in every day life?

Soul Mates #2

“I don’t know anything, at all.”

Pretty accurate quote for the mood right now. Have you ever given advice but been unable to accept it? Don’t smoke. Don’t do all the work yourself. Let him come to you. Believe in yourself.

Why is it so easy to dole out these sentiments but impossible to apply the very same ones to your own life? Seems odd.

I like to think everybody has his or her hang-ups and baggage. Some are just better at covering them up…actors. The whole world is a stage, is it not, William?

This is another one of my pieces where everyone can find something true to themselves. We all feel like we have the worst deal, which is probably why we are so good at counselling others. Is this an element of human nature that is completely innate, or just a personality trait? For me it’s the former. Even though talking things through with the ones I love can be a heavy burden, I really don’t trust anyone else to do the delicate job quite as well as I feel I do. So in that sense, I’m happy. It’s a gift to be trusted so much.

It takes a lot for me to discuss my baggage with people. As much as I expect people to be open with me, there are extremely few I would consider the agreement mutual. Not really sure why…I guess that’s enough on that.

What is friendship without trust? False? No not quite. Just shallow I think, and not shallow in the conventional sense. Shallow in the way you play in the shallows of the ocean, but don’t feel quite brave enough to swim out far enough so that you can’t see your feet. I think trust is when you know you can swim into the deep, and know for sure that you can bob about on the surface quite happily, even dive down every now and then, and not get dragged under. When the trust is broken, for whatever reason, that is your great white circling beneath you, trying to figure out the fastest way to wrap its razor sharp teeth around the edges your heart.

The worst is when they don’t realize that the shark is theirs. The damage is done, and you’re not quite dead just sinking, watching the blackness of deep water press in on your eyes, suffocating your soul. And while you are slowly but surely giving up, to put it bluntly, they are STILL chatting shit.

It’s the hardest thing in the world trying to swim to the surface without a heart people, but worth doing. Don’t let the bastards get you down.

So, moving on from that lengthy metaphor, I’ve decided it’ll suit me for now to continue not trusting many people, to allow them to trust me, and to put up with the bullshit. Listening without feeling has got to be considered a talent, no? At least I’ve found a few more people who will come deep sea swimming with me. Thank god for friends.

I’ve written recently about soul mates. Surely if I decide my friends are my soul mates, that solves the problems of being pressured into looking for one? Hmm. Definitely good enough for me. “Don’t worry, be happy.”

I Know Nothing of This

What is love?

Why is it so viciously important?

To be loved is the safety and vulnerability of a tiny quail’s egg.

To love is not so different.

To be more secure and more exposed then you ever thought possible.

Ice skating on a liquid ocean, encircling the circling shadows that watch from below.

Question is, when you reach your palms out to be embraced by the sky and to be held tight by the universe;

Will it catch you? Or will your last breath be tormented by your fingers scrabbling in vain towards a merciless eternity, reaching up and away from you the longer you gaze into it’s desertion.

The frozen water into which you have ungracefully fallen softly ripples against your skin and bones like knives so you sink, and the blades reach into your stomach and cripple you with dead butterflies, broken violins and clichés.

But then? Maybe a pair of warm hands drag you to the shore, hot pebbles steaming away your doubts and fears. The face you love smiles, hands you a pair of ice skates, and you allow yourself to be swept onto your feet

Out onto the innocent, winking ocean. And you let this repetition summersault through eternity…all in the name of love.

Hair

I read an article in Elle or Vogue magazine a while back about a woman who did a little experiment, going from bleach blonde to chestnut brown. Her conclusion was that blonde is not just a hair colour, it’s a whole way of being.

Well, I wouldn’t go that far. But things like hair colour, height, skin colour and even nose shape alter the way other perceive us. Hair colour is one of those changeable things, and even if it does seem juvenile and girly, the difference in how you are received by other people is noticeable. But where is the line between how you have subconsciously reacted to the change and how others have? The first time I went brunette I loved it, even if it was a little more black and green than anything else. I dyed it myself again, counteracting the green tints with elements of red, and I felt it was all tickety-boo. This brunette regime lasted about 10 months, and by the end of it I had lost all my self-confidence. It was odd, people had started treating me with new levels of seriousness which did not sit well with me. I got ignored and interrupted a lot as well. NOT good. Obviously other factors in my life had thrown me into a bit of a dark spiral, but I cannot help remembering the amount of people who thought it was inoffensive to say “oh what have you done that for? I preferred it blonde.”

I did change back to blonde…somehow it just seemed to boost my personality, but I can never get over how some people don’t seem to mind offending you straight to your face, with no tact. Admittedly, it tends to be friends of the parents or family members. Just a few weeks ago my cousin glared at my cartilage piercing and said “urgh it’s disgusting.” Obviously I thwacked him one. To openly look at someone, to judge a physical change, a choice they’ve made, and call it disgusting? I would say, that is not good etiquette.

Today I went to the hair salon to get my roots done, and I was told low lights would be a good idea. 12 hours later? My hair is greeny brown. And suddenly all those insecurities from 2 years ago come flooding back. I feel like a mouse wending my way around millions of elephant’s feet, insignificant, ugly and unimportant. But how, in the space of 12 hours, has a hair colour altered me from a confident, over outspoken lass into this? I guess it has to do with how we perceive ourselves as well. For example, I look in the mirror and see my nose piercing, and I like what it says about me. I liked what my blonde straggly hair said about me. What exactly these things told the world, I’m not really sure, but it’s the way I’m received by the world that tells me this outward impression can’t be too horrifying.

I’ll go back to the salon tomorrow I think, and hopefully they can fix their fifty quid mistake. But the moral of this story is if you finally get to that point where you are happy with the way things are don’t change a thing. Why fix something that isn’t broken? Why replace something that still works? Tell that to my 6 year old and sadly deadened Motorola flip phone.

It seems cliché to encourage self-adoration, to do that stereotypical grin into the mirror every morning. That’s just ridiculous. Everyone has stuff they dislike about themselves, and that’s okay as long is it doesn’t mock you too heartily. What I’m saying sounds obvious, but just don’t change the good bits! And that means the bits that are good in your opinion. Ignore others, your mistakes are yours to make.

You will always care how the world sees you. But fears and insecurities are just emotions. Fear itself, cannot harm you.

(This is the part when you roll your eyes and say “No shit Sherlock.”)