Avoiding conflict

I was always a GOOD kid. I had anger, but it was quite suppressed growing up.

Dan Van Riper, the Albany Weblog guy, first wrote to Ask Roger Anything:
Roger, I… I’m sorry, I can’t think of anything to ask. I really want to but… I can’t. Why not?

Because my life’s an open book? Because you’re having dental work done?

But then he came back and asked:
Wait, I just thought of a question. It’s actually been in the back of my head for some time. You’ve said more than once that you don’t like conflict between people, that when it happens you tend to shy away from it. I know several people who are like that. My question is, why? Do you have any idea where that comes from? Or is that too personal?

To answer the last, easiest, question, no, it’s not too personal.

I suppose I need to define the terms. My daughter’s favorite Beatles song is “We Can Work It Out,” which features the line: “Life is very short, and there’s no time for fussing and fighting, my friend.”

Watching the Sunday morning news shows, or Bill O’Reilly, or the like, I realize I would not do very well. People are rapidly throwing around facts and pseudo-facts, often yelling over each other. It would create in me too much agita to think clearly. Later, I’d have some treppenwitz moments, thinking of what I SHOULD have said.

I’ll state my positions – say on this blog – and I’m sure there are people who like them, and people who don’t, and that’s fine. People – you or others – will have a reasonable response. Maybe we’ll change each other’s minds or maybe we won’t, but it’s OK because it seems to be done with a level of mutual respect.

Whereas on the Times Union blogs, or national newspaper websites, the conflict tends to escalate, with one side trying to out-shout the other. No one will be convinced of the position of the other, so what’s the point, really? I’ve posted some things on the TU site, where I made my initial observation, then others blithely go off in directions I hadn’t intended. I let them, but after a while, I get bored with it all. It seems futile.

Then there’s the uncertainty thing, the sign of a good humanities student. I certainly don’t pretend that I know all the answers – others may think so, but it’s not true – and I put forth the possibility, in SOME topics, that I could be at least partially mistaken. I don’t have the need to badger others about those things.

I’m an old political science major, but political arguing I find demoralizing. Often, “victory” is seen as stopping government, or a corporate entity under its jurisdiction, from doing what it ought not to have been doing in the first place.

None of this, though, is the REAL answer. The REAL answer is how I was raised. My mother was great with the aphorisms such as “You get more bees with honey than vinegar.” My father’s message is that the angry young black man thing doesn’t work well in a primarily white society.

I was always a GOOD kid. I had anger, but it was quite suppressed growing up. I expelled a LOT of it in my twenties, no small portion of it at my rather controlling father. And once I let it go, a lot of it was just gone. I just don’t get as angry as I used to; sad, frustrated, even occasionally in despair about the world The Daughter is going to inherit – pollution, global warming creating ecological catastrophes, economic and cultural inequality, to name a few. But anger just doesn’t work for me, most of the time.

In fact, anger makes me feel out of control. It’s been known to give me a raging headache. I’ve been told I look like a crazy person (crazier person?).

Interestingly, then, it means that the rate times I REALLY get angry, it’s usually more effective. If I’m a known hothead, then its effectiveness is compromised.

The Dream: The Compliant, Yet Angry Consumer

Trashing the place IS some wish fulfillment from some retail experiences I’ve gone through.

Here is a dream so vivid that I had to get out of bed at 4:10 a.m. to write it down:

I’m at an outdoor market with my sister Leslie. Some saleswoman is trying to sell me eyeglasses. I wasn’t really in the market, but I reluctantly try on a pair. It was quite different from what I usually wear, as they were a bit heavier, but they looked nice, and I decide to buy them. As I’m about to have the sale rung up, I see the computer tablet she’s working on. Somehow she has gotten into the editing section of my blog and has written, “Hey guys, these are my current glasses” with a picture of that. “And these are the glasses I’m thinking about wearing. They are a little bit heavier, but I like them. What do you think?” And there’s a picture of THAT. I say, in a very even tone, “I’m not very happy about that,” pointing to her tablet. Then I make the purchase with some guy as she goes away, but she leaves her tablet on the counter.

I walk behind the counter, get into her tablet, and delete the offending post. Then I take my left hand and, one by one, start throwing can goods (can goods?) down a hill behind the stand, speaking as evenly as I possibly muster. “I don’t think you people understand how upset I am about this invasion of privacy.” Then I take my left arm [I’m right-handed, BTW] and knock over a whole counter’s worth of stuff down that same hill. “THAT is how angry I am. I don’t think you understood. I hope you get it now.”
***
Now that even-tempered rage I’ve seen in me. But why, after I was upset with my privacy being violated – not to mention how this total stranger so quickly hacked into my blog – would I have bought the glasses? Loss of privacy is a constant concern; I’ll share what I like, thank you, which is quite a bit, I think. Trashing the place IS some wish-fulfillment from some retail experiences I’ve gone through, such as the time I walked into a particular store on the corner of Washington and Lark in Albany and was immediately, and without subtlety, being watched as a potential thief. That store is long gone – there’s a Subway there presently – but it really ticked me off at the time.

Of Anger, Polyester and other things

There was a movie in the 1980s by John Waters called Polyester which a bunch of us went to.

This is a combination of two Sunday Stealing posts from here and here, but I decided to answer only the questions I felt like answering. Besides, I don’t HAVE a favorite mall store.

1. What has been your longest love relationship?

Actually, my current one. We started going out -again – in late 1998. And I’m not even counting the 1.5 years we went out earlier in the 1990s.

4. If you could live anywhere would you live?

I seem to be fine where I am. I fantasize that Madison, WI or Portland, OR might be a mecca for me, and I did like Madison the one time I was there in 1987 or 1988, but I’m unmotivated to change at this time.

7. What’s the longest job that you’ve had?

That would be the current one, where I started October 19, 1992, three work addresses ago. The second-longest was FantaCo (8.5 years). The third place was 13 months.

8. If you won the lottery, who’d you call first?

My wife.

9. If you won, how would you spend your money after investments?

An ever-expanding list of social and cultural programs. Surely the Red Cross would be one.

10. When was the last time you went to church (or a religious house)?

That would be yesterday.

14. What food do you hate?

Canned beets.

16. What’s the longest shift that you worked at a job?

11.2 hours in a factory job after high school, 6 p.m. to 6 a.m. But I regularly worked 10 hours, 5:12 p.m-4 a.m., then worked Saturday from noon to 6 p.m.

17. What was the last concert that you attended?

This one. Well, unless you mean classical concert, which was in the spring of 2011.

21. Do you ever sleep in the nude?

Seldom. I want to be able to leave quickly in case of a fire or whatever.

22. Have you ever had a long-distance relationship?

Yes, and it was not good.

24. What’s you’re favorite lyric quote from a song?

“Turn off your mind, relax and float downstream.” Which I don’t do nearly enough.

25. Tell us something random about yourself.

I used to have some anger issues, I suppose. Occasionally, it still flares up. It was after church a few weeks ago, and a few of us were in the kitchen. I noted that one of the songs we had sung that morning had a different arrangement from I had sung it previously several times, specifically, a harmony line in the original that was unison in the newer version; inferior, from my point of view, BTW. Apparently, someone else in the choir had made the same observation. So another singer declared that our observation was “stupid,” that we read music and should sing what was there, rather than assuming what was on the page.

I yelled at her that I didn’t appreciate her crap, I didn’t need her crap (and I didn’t; my tooth was still hurting at the time.) I realized later that I got so enraged because I dislike the fact that she, who has also been a school teacher, didn’t understand the fact that we all learn differently.

When I was in the high school choir, we couldn’t even use the score for our twice-yearly concerts. I’ve long tried to get out of the music, keeping in front of me mostly for lyrics and pauses.

And, though I’ve been in choirs for decades, I only read music in relative terms. If note A is this, then a third up must sound like that; I don’t think, “Oh, that’s a C.”

But I suppose the yelling was unnecessary. Though I disliked being called “stupid.”

26. Have ever attended a theme party? If yes, do tell.

There was a movie in the 1980s by John Waters called Polyester which a bunch of us went to. Afterward, we all went to someone’s house, and we had to bring polyester (unreal) food, however we defined it. Marshmallow Fluff, Cheez Whiz, TANG beverage…I don’t remember what else.

27. What is your favorite thing about winter?

Its demise.

28. What was the name of your first pet?

Peter. He was a cat we had for about six years.

30. Has your humor ever been called “sick”?

No. Corny. Obtuse. Situational. Unfunny. But not sick.

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