Etranger a Moi Même: Lost in Opposition to The Unicator
I admit to a fairly large amount of misanthropy in my world view, or at least a negative view of people's ability to be compassionate or empathetic. Or, maybe just the kind of interaction and communication I for some reason envision - where people actually communicate and exchange ideas and learn about one another and recognize one another - is more the stuff of otherworldly, utopian idealism rather than 'the way things really are'.
The 'way things really are' to me is, most people seem self absorbed, self centered, and in the main *not* very interested in what others have to say, unless it somehow relates to them or helps them understand themselves. If this worldview were expressed in a more fantastical, sci-fi mode, I'd imagine people as fleshy humanoid talking pods walking around with small-slitted eyes and no ears and huge mouth pieces which are continually spewing out words and sentences and lectures, a world where no one really sees or hears the other, and sunsequently this human drama all seems quite futile. With this view I hold, the whole purpose of humans even being together seems obscured in the din of all this uni-directional babble.
I might also make an animal analogy, where I'd imagine humans not that different than the animals we supposedly transcended a few thousand years ago when we stopped swinging around and popped out of the trees and started skulking across the savannas in search of better food, tools, language, and culture. Instead, even though we possess the complexity language and the ability to communicate through symbols and signs and be conscious of ourselves in the world, the very fact that all we seem to do is 'unicate' (opposite of communicate, to babble without expecting or desiring reciprocation) really does not set us that far apart from the squawking duck in a pond that seems to be quacking on about nothing in particular, and all the other ducks could care less.
So then too, as I interact with other people at work, or in my running group, people sometimes ask questions about *me* but really all they seem to be doing is being polite and really just waiting for the chance to talk about themselves. It's as if talking incessantly about one's self acts as an ego sustainer, an ego prop, which keeps one's personality afloat (at the expense my own alientation); or, that their unicating ego prop becomes their personality - their self absorbed act of talking about themselves is simultaneously an outward projection of noise and an inwardly self-reflexive gazing and sustaining their own image that they create through the interaction of trapping a person with their one way discourse.
In all honesty, this view of mine, my own subjective take on all this, makes the world a lonely place for me at times. I have only recently realized the extent to which this world view of humans as unicators has formed my own identity - that of a person (me) who stands in opposition to the unicator: me as silent but defiant solitary soul resisting the urge to throw myself into the mix. My family was a family of unicators, is a family of unicators, for the most part, and so perhaps in defiance of all this incessant verbal noise, this cacophony of life long self regarding lectures coming at me, has made me both angry at that type of person, and made me reluctant to really talk about myself or anything for long periods of time, lest I too become one of the loathsome unicators, those alien beings whom I feel to have little in common with except a bunch of random DNA.
For me, because I am reluctant, indeed afraid, of becoming or even acting temporarily like a unicator, I have built up a personality, a communication style, that is more of a listener, a detached observer, shut out from any giving of my own stuff, of Me, and just a deflector of unicator babble. The problem is that this has caused me to stunt/blunt my own ability to verbally express myself, because my own distaste and disgust for the unicator has grown to the level of a stereotype, that dangerous, fallacious generalized image of one or a few applied to many or all, which has made me feel at times that most conversations are one way, where I am a passive detached observer who can ask good questions and also listen, but when it comes to any self revelation or self disclosure, I am master at redirecting the conversion to the other person or persons.
Yet, I know deep down my anger and dislike of the unicator stereotype is really caused by a deep desire to be heard, to be listened to, to be understood and accepted. But when the opportunity come to reveal or show myself and how I am, my habit of language deflection has come at the expense of not knowing how to show myself to the world, or at least those who love and care about me. I fear they (like myself) see one persona, an affable and intelligent, empathetic man, but deep down a stranger. A stranger to them, and a stranger to myself.
Etranger a moi même.
I admit to a fairly large amount of misanthropy in my world view, or at least a negative view of people's ability to be compassionate or empathetic. Or, maybe just the kind of interaction and communication I for some reason envision - where people actually communicate and exchange ideas and learn about one another and recognize one another - is more the stuff of otherworldly, utopian idealism rather than 'the way things really are'.
The 'way things really are' to me is, most people seem self absorbed, self centered, and in the main *not* very interested in what others have to say, unless it somehow relates to them or helps them understand themselves. If this worldview were expressed in a more fantastical, sci-fi mode, I'd imagine people as fleshy humanoid talking pods walking around with small-slitted eyes and no ears and huge mouth pieces which are continually spewing out words and sentences and lectures, a world where no one really sees or hears the other, and sunsequently this human drama all seems quite futile. With this view I hold, the whole purpose of humans even being together seems obscured in the din of all this uni-directional babble.
I might also make an animal analogy, where I'd imagine humans not that different than the animals we supposedly transcended a few thousand years ago when we stopped swinging around and popped out of the trees and started skulking across the savannas in search of better food, tools, language, and culture. Instead, even though we possess the complexity language and the ability to communicate through symbols and signs and be conscious of ourselves in the world, the very fact that all we seem to do is 'unicate' (opposite of communicate, to babble without expecting or desiring reciprocation) really does not set us that far apart from the squawking duck in a pond that seems to be quacking on about nothing in particular, and all the other ducks could care less.
So then too, as I interact with other people at work, or in my running group, people sometimes ask questions about *me* but really all they seem to be doing is being polite and really just waiting for the chance to talk about themselves. It's as if talking incessantly about one's self acts as an ego sustainer, an ego prop, which keeps one's personality afloat (at the expense my own alientation); or, that their unicating ego prop becomes their personality - their self absorbed act of talking about themselves is simultaneously an outward projection of noise and an inwardly self-reflexive gazing and sustaining their own image that they create through the interaction of trapping a person with their one way discourse.
In all honesty, this view of mine, my own subjective take on all this, makes the world a lonely place for me at times. I have only recently realized the extent to which this world view of humans as unicators has formed my own identity - that of a person (me) who stands in opposition to the unicator: me as silent but defiant solitary soul resisting the urge to throw myself into the mix. My family was a family of unicators, is a family of unicators, for the most part, and so perhaps in defiance of all this incessant verbal noise, this cacophony of life long self regarding lectures coming at me, has made me both angry at that type of person, and made me reluctant to really talk about myself or anything for long periods of time, lest I too become one of the loathsome unicators, those alien beings whom I feel to have little in common with except a bunch of random DNA.
For me, because I am reluctant, indeed afraid, of becoming or even acting temporarily like a unicator, I have built up a personality, a communication style, that is more of a listener, a detached observer, shut out from any giving of my own stuff, of Me, and just a deflector of unicator babble. The problem is that this has caused me to stunt/blunt my own ability to verbally express myself, because my own distaste and disgust for the unicator has grown to the level of a stereotype, that dangerous, fallacious generalized image of one or a few applied to many or all, which has made me feel at times that most conversations are one way, where I am a passive detached observer who can ask good questions and also listen, but when it comes to any self revelation or self disclosure, I am master at redirecting the conversion to the other person or persons.
Yet, I know deep down my anger and dislike of the unicator stereotype is really caused by a deep desire to be heard, to be listened to, to be understood and accepted. But when the opportunity come to reveal or show myself and how I am, my habit of language deflection has come at the expense of not knowing how to show myself to the world, or at least those who love and care about me. I fear they (like myself) see one persona, an affable and intelligent, empathetic man, but deep down a stranger. A stranger to them, and a stranger to myself.
Etranger a moi même.
