I’m going to hesitate using the word
“soul” a dozen times while writing this I’m sure.
I think there is a potential for an
individual in anyone. An unfortunate problem with this potential is
that they can choose to define their individual in terms
completely opposite of what I would consider a healthy or optimal
form. Why would I advocate for people becoming individuals in the
first place? Why should you be persuaded that the case I make for me,
and that you should be you is even valid? Maybe their definitions are
simply more nuanced or a different kind of true than
what you think I have to offer. Maybe you find yourself so much
better to connect and empathize with one of their senses of
individuality that you can’t even begin to connect with mine.
I think there are calculable and
reliable methods for why my conception of individual is better than
theirs. What is “their” conception? What rules do they follow?
Someone can easily describe themselves as traditional; wife, kid, 2
car garage, steady job. There is absolutely no problem in wanting
these things. There is nothing inherently wrong with these things. I
certainly wouldn’t mind some kind of relative version of most of
these types of things. No matter how many times I may argue on behalf
of these things, seemingly in line with “their” position, I’m
still asking why.
The main rule of what I will call “the
off individual” or “off person” is a habit of doing for the
sake of doing. When questioned why, the answer is because. When
pressed, it’s a choked yet at the same time screamed “because
that’s I want, that’s who I am, and it’s none of your
business.” The off person isn’t necessarily a dumb person. It’s
one thing to accidentally light your balls on fire, twice, and it’s
another to live moment to moment in a sort of haze or kind of angst.
My individual is, in a very important
sense, very boring, and in another, the most interesting person you
could ever talk to. They exist in a realm where nothing is off
limits, you can always change, but you can always tell that no matter
where they’ve been or where they’re going, you are talking to
them. You’re not talking to who their parents wanted them to
be. You’re not talking to their fear of being lonely. You’re not
talking to their uncertainty of the future. And you’re certainly
not talking to your own judge, jury, and executioner.
They’re boring because things simply
happen and they try to understand and navigate them. They’re the
most interesting person you could ever talk to because of how they
came to that understanding. They gain a perspective that becomes
impossible to ignore and naturally compels change. They speak with
enthusiasm that, were it not to come from habit, would be exhausting.
There are people who just are so intently that you have to be
drawn in. They rob you of the choice, and that’s okay with you.
These people tell you your story through their eyes.
I’m crushed when people lose their
ability to become these kinds of people. In that sense, college has
been one of the most disappointing periods. I have the window into
myself in the relationships I keep. I look much further beyond “he
can be fun at a party” as to why we got along. There are a number
of people who I’ve had or consistently have the best
conversation I could be having in that moment. And then often
enough they disappear. They don’t move or get too busy, “they”
disappear.
There’s a responsibility to being my
kind of individual. You have to understand the difference between
describing what people are, and judging the shit out of them to try
and feel good about yourself. It’s taking someone else’s “quirks”
and understanding them to be a part of that person, not always an
opportunity to pigeon-hole their entire being. You have to realize
that the person I talked to for hours, or saw smiling the entire time
during some sexy soiree is the one I believe when you’re
describing yourself. When you start to sound like a romantic drama or
off-shoot of the American dream, I’m doubtful. Life is more
nuanced. As a person living one, I’m desperate for your character.
When people cut off me or my group, I’m
concerned. I can’t think of a time in my life when I’ve been
prompted to be more open and honest about anything with anyone. The
overwhelming “who gives a fuck” nature of my group is less a
genuine lack of concern and more an “I’m happy if you’re
happy.” We may describe situations and people in deliberate or
crass terms, but you can bet there’s a level of honesty
that actually wants to get to the bottom of how or why they’d
describe something in that way. The sometimes overt sexual stuff is
just fluff. Fun fluff, but it’s not a group of people who needs to
bust out into an orgy a day to keep boredom away.
So why wouldn’t someone want to be
included? Well, it’s off putting to talk about things you’ve
deemed off limits. It’s easy to read way too far into a few
personalities or past situations. You’ve not only turned yourself
off to understanding this group of people who, I would argue can have
a humongous positive impact on your life, but also the opportunity to
actively engage in the conversation on what may need to change or
seems wrong to you. To exist in a group dynamic like ours, you are
lost without a strong sense of self. You become uneasy, bored,
judgmental, and confused. I know, because this is how I feel when I’m
stuck around a group of “normal people.”
And it’s not like I’m butt hurt
that “nobody wants to be my/our friend.” I don’t think someone needs to step in and validate some personality. I’m concerned about the people who flirt with the group.
Who spent maybe years flickering or cracking open doors that were infinitely interesting, that drew you in, until one day they’re
unceremoniously shut with nary a nod they ever existed. If they were
once willing, what changed? If they once had stories and unstoppable
thoughts, and this intriguing perspective, and shared it and good
times were had, why is it gone now? They turned off. And if they just
went dead to you, why’d they even bother in the first place?
It’s why I have a hard time
perpetually “hating” or trying to cut off people that I’ve even
once genuinely enjoyed their time. That’s their capacity. I know
it. They can’t lie to me. It’s why I keep a relatively small
facebook contact list. If I don’t feel an obligation, if I wouldn’t
spend my time, if I had nothing to say to you, your being, your
perspective, your soul, I wouldn’t be fucking talking! What
were you doing with me? Is it really that interesting to talk with
someone because of their hair and ability to say fuck a lot? I doubt
it. So what did you see? What looked like you or what you might want
to be? What might you have to teach?
The goal isn’t to learn how to run
away from things that make you feel uncomfortable. The goal isn’t
to blame. The goal is to tear down every excuse until you can just
be, just talk, just accept, until the baseline you has enough reason
to adapt to something else. I don’t care if people feel they need
to grow up or become obligated with other things, I care if they
treat the person they’ve shown themselves to be like it doesn’t
exist. Like the time spent with me or my friends was “just another
party” or “who I was in college.” I don’t like being written
off like I wasn’t trying. I don’t want to watch sparks get
domesticated, lazy, and complacent. Bad ideas are never named when
you don’t allow the voice to challenge them. Convention can crush
your soul. And the idea that I would be sadder about that than you is
horrifying.
