So, my day begins at three in the morning, which--at least two days in--is alright, in part because it support great mid-afternoon naps. Unfortunately, between some of the shifts I sneak in at Ivanna Cone, I haven't much time to write. Hopefully, once my sleeping schedule irons out, I will be able to get back to research and writing (including up here) more regularly. Presently, though, I am obliged to remark on the strangeness of time for me. This morning (or night, depending on your frame of reference) it felt like almost the entire span of twenty-four hours laid itself before me. It felt rich in potential and all the fantasies that early morning daydreams allow. Simply put, anything was possible and such a notion is rare, but profoundly intense for me. (Other such moments, at least all that I readily recollect, involve a romance or another and usually an undertone of overeager youth that later provides some sort of lesson which I later forget.) I prepared licorice tea for my sour throat--which I happily determined was not nascent strep, a persistent issue for me--and used my new Thermos before biking to work at 3:40 in the a.m. Nearly all of the work of sponge and dough mixing I fulfilled, making a few minor blunders like doubling the honey and thus the batch of cinnamon rolls, but it was successful. Fulfilling a few minor chores afterwards (dentist's appointment, purchasing a bike light, returning films), I satisfactorily succumbed to a two hour nap in the warm confines of the living room.
Now, at a quarter past eight o'clock, drinking a New Belgium Skinny Dip, listening to a compilation I believe given me by Miss Lisa Skarbakka, and having just finished reading Volume 3 of Garth Ennis's Preacher, I find contentment. Contentment I usually reserve some psychopharmaceutical or personal disinterest in engaging behavior or new tasks; which is not presently the case. Rather, I recognize the limitations on my schedule, the needs of my body and my health--though those of my mind remain hazy--and have discovered myself in a situation of occupational satisfaction. As far as I can tell, training at Great Harvest is going rapidly, a few extra shifts at Ivanna Cone provide further savings and spending money, work for my mom is intense but with good company and pay is well worth it. I have been able to play with the new computer--whose name I have not yet settled on, but something classical and Greek would be in tune with my other electronics--and happily fall to sleep thinking of friends and future plans, or, perhaps, the new pot of Tazo Organic Chai with honey.
Something else is in order, as well. I have caught wind of some of my lovely friends who are, at least attempting to, keep track of this space and I have a query I wish to set forth. This arose during white board sessions with Gretchen, Stephie, Jerricho, and has been entertained with others. When discussing relationships with friends and family, we fell into using terms like "owe" and other such metaphors that I coined the language of transaction, which I found unsettling and inaccurate. What does it mean to "owe" or "deserve" something in a personal bond? How does that relate to its usage in contracts like business or legislative dealings? (Such as, "If you build me a house, I will pay you money;" or, "If you perform community service, then you do not have to pay a fine for your legal transgression.") How do you consider your relationships with others and the obligations or responsibilities those entail?
Here is the heart question, that which includes and makes sense of the other: Does the language of transaction accurately describe how relationships work or, as I assume, is it misleading in how we actually relate, feel, and work toward or with others? My response is that the language of transaction is misleading and a poor way to consider personal bonds--that is, bonds are tacitly contractual and are similar to marketplace dealings--which function more like building or growing than "deals." Such language of building would mean that in building a family, friendship, romance, or whatever, the construction requires cooperation but, given strong foundations and the passion of participants, it can withstand disuse or forget for some time while being readily recovered (which is based on my personal relationships that are too frequently neglected only to be happily discovered again later). If, for example, a house of friends work to make a special bond amongst the housemates, then the lack of cooperation by a member or two does not nullify the relationship, it only makes their role in its success less significant; as a result, the responsibility or commitment to maintain for non-cooperators is slackened because those "structures" of the house are more vestigial than those of the hardworkers in the group.
Anyway, I want your comments on the language of transaction, that of building, the rhetoric involved, and any thoughts or alternatives. I want discussion! How would you change your linguistic metaphors to more appropriately describe your relationships? What verbs describe the creation and maintenance of relationships? Help me out!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Dear Caleb,
ReplyDeleteI, a creeper, have a google alert in place for my and my sister's names (this could also be seen as being responsible and/or supportive, but let's be real); I checked my email this morning, and the link brought me here. And while I could have read this and then slinked off unnoticed into cyberspace (does anyone use that word anymore?), I thought I owed you a greeting (ahahaha).
Hello.
Caleb
ReplyDeleteGood to hear that you are drinking good beer. Does philosophy brew beer now too?
I'm not sure how to approach your question, re: the language of transaction in relationships. I guess, in a way you're asking are relationships transactions? Ideally, aren't relationships acts of construction? Well, ideally, yes. Its much better to say, "We have a good foundation," than to say, "I have a lot invested in this person." Right? The problem is, is that people are expecting things out of relationships. If the "foundation" is there, if we've "built a lot", so what? What if it stops there? My girlfriend spend a lot of time fighting over what seems to be some kind of relationship balance sheet, and no matter how much we've built, we need the balance sheet to balance out.
Dear friends!
ReplyDeleteKayla, I am someone who uses the term "cyberspace" from time to time because it is very rich and has much modern science fiction weight behind it. It is a word both derived from (in part) and descriptive of certain fictions. Also, I do have a tendency to favor certain archaisms, though "cyberspace" is hardly--at least yet--an archaism. Anyway, a salutations in response! Perhaps you will stick around a while!
Brendan, I think that the thinking of transactions, of the benefits and responsibilities of relationships are very telling. How do you feel about your girlfriend (of whom you did not tell me anything when we spoke on the phone) using such a "balance sheet"? That sort of thinking and speaking is very much part of a sort of marketplace of affection and personal connectivity; I suppose I am curious why we use it. When we found and build bonds, we certainly derive benefits from them just as we benefit from building a house or growing rosemary in an herb garden. If a personal bond acts like a building, it does what buildings do: provide shelter, comfort, warmth, and potentially the sort of (psycho-social) space we need for living happily. If it is a plant, bonds also provide important nourishment and psyhic nutrition. Perhaps when we expect responses from someone important to us we a) have made assumptions about the type of person s/he is, b) are interested in the sort of constructed/grown bond that would intuit that functioning, c) express hope that the bond under construction will be mutually supported (that it actually is a shared space both in its functioning and handiwork). Then again, we often do expect trades in favors and "You scratch my back, I'll scratch your back" mentalities. In part, I am interested in thinking out of that sort of box and into something that allows more flex and also more personalizability.
To both of you,
as always,
yours,
c