Just Close the Browser

Shelley Fri, 09/18/2009 - 21:50

Years ago, when I lived in San Francisco, I was sitting in my favorite chair one day, listening to music and typing into my laptop when the door to my apartment opened. A man enters, sees me and stops, half in, half out. He stares at me, I stare at him, waiting for him to say something along the lines of "Oh, excuse me! Wrong door!"

When he continues to stare and look around the apartment in confusion, I ask, "Can I help you?", being sure to put a little 'you've walked into my home, bud, and what if I had been nude' tone into my voice.

He starts laughing and says, "I've come to the wrong floor! I live on the second floor and must have got off on the wrong floor. I live in 222!"

Sounds reasonable. Easy mistake. Just shut the door on your way out.

"I was so surprised. I couldn't figure out who you were."

Well, cool. Please leave now.

"How funny! You must have really been surprised, too."

WHAT THE HELL DO I NEED TO DO TO GET YOU TO GO!

I got up and walked towards the door and the guy still isn't leaving. Friendly, not harmful at all — just chattering away. Being a polite soul, I respond to his chatter. Yes, funny coincidence. Yes, I do sometimes forget to lock my door when I bring groceries in. And, yes, weather has been nice…now move your butt outside my door!

After I herded him out, and just as I'm closing the door he calls back, "Well, nice meeting you!"

I locked the door and started to walk away. Stopped. Turned back and threw the dead bolt.

We are a society that is, above all, polite. We have raised courtesy to an art form, honing it into fine-edged usefulnes. Our words become knives as we fight a duel called "conversation" — victor and victim equally bloodied. We circle and stab, and then commiserate with the pain, apologize for the sting.

We pommel each other with argument and viewpoint, all the while debating the finer points of etiquette. We hammer at each other with opinion; we blast most eloquently, and always with the highest regard, the deepest sincerity.

We hold mirrors up to show others their flaws, only to find that the silver has flaked off, the glass is transparent.

You know what I like about being online? If you read something you don't like, or something that irritates you, or a piece of self-righteous garbage, you can close the browser and it's gone. You don't have to be polite. You don't have to read, react, respond.

Just close the browser.

Decisions, Decisions

Shelley Fri, 09/18/2009 - 21:42

There is nothing more implacable than a decision waiting to be made.

It can shake you out of sleep, pulling the covers off, forcing you out of bed and to your feet. It can hover around you during your waking hours, beating at you with tiny, subliminal fists of frustration.

As time passes the decision grows and swells, bulges from barely sensed speck to overshadowing monster. Your attempts to fend it off become weaker as it smothers you in it's soft folds, pushes you against the wall, and rolls over you as you try to run.

Poets write of Decision. In The Road Not Taken Frost wrote:

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler

The poem ends with "…and I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."

In this poem Frost sees Decision as noble — Man choosing to follow his own path rather than following the crowd. Compare this to Dorothy Parker's caustic and brutally direct 'Resume':

Razors pain you; Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you; And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful; Nooses give;
Gas smells awful; You might as well live.

No nobility here — life as a lesser of evils.

Not all decisions are the same. Whether to choose strawberry ice cream or chocolate is but a moment's thought; after all, one can choose chocolate tomorrow when choosing strawberry today. There are an infinite number of these decisions made in a life.

Some decisions, though, can only be made after sleepless nights, and days spent in thought—little scales in your mind working overtime. To have a child or not. To marry or not. To make this move, buy this house, take this job, follow this path. Or not.

Regardless of the magnitude or its impact, once the the decision is made, you're free of the weight, the monster has rolled on. This leaves plenty of room for Decision's younger brother, Regret.

In the Shallows

Shelley Thu, 09/10/2009 - 17:40

In the shallows, in soft, soft sand, you can stand very still and the little fishies will nibble at your toes.

In the shallows, in soft, soft sand, you can look down through clear, clear water and be master of all you see.

In the shallows, in soft, soft sand, you can laugh at tiny ripples of water lapping ineffectually at your ankles.

In the shallows, in soft, soft sand, you are God.

Until a big goddamn wave comes along and sucks you in, and you're pushed here and there at the mercy of energies beyond your control with Big Fishies wanting to do more than nibble at your toes in water that's murky and dark and unknown and scary and you think to yourself, "Holy shit! What just happened!?!", as your only hope is to ride along, follow the current, and stay afloat, looking for an escape...

...back to the shallows, and the soft, soft sand.