Me and My Kirk
Captain Kirk had a transporter accident one day, if you recall, and rematerialized as two James T. Kirk's--as if the universe was big enough for more than one. One Kirk seemed good. The other Kirk seemed evil. But it got more poetic than that, mostly because the writers of the original Star Trek were not science fiction writers. The good Kirk had no ambition, no backbone, no strength of character. He was indecisive and weak. The evil Kirk was wickedly ambitious, totally confident, a very effective strategist and leader. He was dangerously effective at everything he tackled. The writers were trying to say that there is some relationship between that part of us that strives to succeed and the part of us that wants to bury the competition.
I was at a They Might Be Giants concert with my friend Rachel (England-Rachel, who incidentally is now New Hampsire-Rachel). There was an intermission before they started, after a bunch of other acts had performed. It seemed the entire theater got up to use the bathrooms leaving Rachel and I among the last people to arrive outside the restrooms. And we both had to go.
As I've mentioned before, I hate traffic. I hate waiting in line. And there I was at the end of a huge line for the mens room and it wasn't moving quickly.
One thing I've noticed that I now consider a rule: do not trust lines. Lines in this country form automatically and people will wait in them when they don't have to wait. You can look to your left and see a very short line and then make the mistake of thinking "oh, that register must be closing since no one's in that line." Probably not true. Go to the line on the left. It truly is that easy.
Anyway, I couldn't stand there, and I thought to myself, "okay, where's the second choice? Where's that line on the left that everyone ignored for the greater wait because everyone else was waiting in the longer line?" I saw some stairs. I left the line and ran up the stairs, figuring that the climb would prove too complicated an option for the crowds, making the upstairs restroom lines much shorter. No such luck. There's a balcony at that theater, and the entire balcony was in line for the loo.
I walked downstairs. The line down there had gotten longer and I still was resolved not to wait in it.
A moment later I was outside the theater. It was cold out. I bumped into Greg Allen there, who was with a cigarette-smoking date. We exchanged a few silly words and then I ran off behind the theater.
I'm no fool. I took statistics in college. I know that while individual human behavior is infinitely complex, its group behavior can be laughably predictable. If I had thought to go outside, others must have had the same thought. But I rounded the corner and saw no one.
What I did see was another challenge. There was no alley back there. There was a wide open, brightly lit parking lot. To its left, a street with houses lining both sides; to its right, a church. Perhaps my journey was over. Perhaps this explained why no one else was out there. Maybe they saw the problem I saw and returned.
But I would not be daunted. It's a simple thing, urinating in private. One only needs to find privacy for a minute. I was determined to go where no man had gone before. The Church had many nooks and passages. Just beyond the light of a streetlamp I saw a sunken, walled section about six feet by six feet, which led to a basement level door in the foundation of the church. The section, strangely, had no stairs in or out and was surrounded by a railing--most likely to keep people like me out.
I stepped over the railing and then hoppped down into the sunken area. This way I could face the open lot and see if anyone was coming, while anyone coming would only see a bearded chin and a pair of glasses peeking up from beneath a railing. And then I peed. No one came during that minute. And when I was done, I used the rail to pull myself up to street level, then hopped the railing, and came back into the theater. Some of the same people who had been waiting in line when I left, had still not gotten inside the mens room door. I contemplated buying myself a beer to celebrate, but the lines were too long.
Rachel, who waited in line for the ladies room, missed the first song. And It was James K. Polk.
I have a very ambitious side, a side that is unwilling to accept that I cannot have what I want when I want it. This side of me has taken a long time to evolve into an acceptable--even purely helpful--personality trait. In my past, this side has led me down some obsessive paths and even destroyed some good friendships.
Yes, a part of me just wanted to pee and didn't want to wait and was willing to struggle to find the best, fastest (if not illegal and somewhat gauche) way to pee. But another part of me--and this is hard to admit--looked at that group of men in line and thought "I don't belong here. They can wait, but I shouldn't have to wait." So I bolted.
A part of my ambition comes from a sense of entitelment that I can't entirely shake. If I were separated into to two Andy's in a transporter accident, my ambitious side would have a wholely entitled personality.
My fiance and I get into a lot of discussions about this sort of thing. We have somewhat opposing world-views in that she sees these darker sides of ourselves as somehow being more honest than our lighter sides. It's a very western viewpoint, one could say very Freudian. As she sees it, these are the unconcious or subconcious motivators that need to be plummed and fully explored (as with a biopsy) so they can be excised (as we romove lumps of cancer.)
My opinion is almost opposite. I believe that the person who we want to be and strive to become, no matter how successful or unsuccessful we are at being that person, is more important than the shadow sides to our personalities that may contradict the image of that person. In other words, I believe that the darker sides of ourselves are more worthy of acknowledging and then ignoring, than exhaulting and then attacking--partly because I think they are cancers that cannot be removed. And I believe in seeing people as mostly good, trying hard to fight urges to be selfish, rather than selfish people pretending to be good. I believe that intentions are everything, that the darker feelings are instincts that run contrary to the work of our neo-cortexes and frontal lobes--that our values, reason and love define who we are as people, and that our selfishness, insecurity and desires tend to make up a part of us that can seem huge from time to time, but ultimately has no substance. They are, as the Buddhists like to say, tiny specks on our soul that cast huge shadows in our lives. A shadow can be vast, but a shadow is just a shadow. It has no substance and the light can penatrate it, while a shadow can never penatrate light. And a speck is only a speck.
Bottom line: Do I think that I'm better than anyone, that I'm more entitled? Absolutely not. Did the whole Kirk really want to take over his ship, beat up his friends and kill his good side? No way. If you asked me why I peed on a church, I would tell you the truth: I had to pee and I didn't want to wait in line. If you have the idea that somehow it is more true that I also felt a sense that I was entitled to skip the restroom line, then I would argue that such a fact gives you less truth. It is a psychic red herring.
I don't think we should ever pretend that our dark sides aren't there. But I also think we should be careful with the story that they tell. One can easily make oneself out to be a monster, or perhaps worse, a saint in a world of monsters.
You are the storyteller. This is your story. Don't split your hero in two.
Captain Kirk had a transporter accident one day, if you recall, and rematerialized as two James T. Kirk's--as if the universe was big enough for more than one. One Kirk seemed good. The other Kirk seemed evil. But it got more poetic than that, mostly because the writers of the original Star Trek were not science fiction writers. The good Kirk had no ambition, no backbone, no strength of character. He was indecisive and weak. The evil Kirk was wickedly ambitious, totally confident, a very effective strategist and leader. He was dangerously effective at everything he tackled. The writers were trying to say that there is some relationship between that part of us that strives to succeed and the part of us that wants to bury the competition.
I was at a They Might Be Giants concert with my friend Rachel (England-Rachel, who incidentally is now New Hampsire-Rachel). There was an intermission before they started, after a bunch of other acts had performed. It seemed the entire theater got up to use the bathrooms leaving Rachel and I among the last people to arrive outside the restrooms. And we both had to go.
As I've mentioned before, I hate traffic. I hate waiting in line. And there I was at the end of a huge line for the mens room and it wasn't moving quickly.
One thing I've noticed that I now consider a rule: do not trust lines. Lines in this country form automatically and people will wait in them when they don't have to wait. You can look to your left and see a very short line and then make the mistake of thinking "oh, that register must be closing since no one's in that line." Probably not true. Go to the line on the left. It truly is that easy.
Anyway, I couldn't stand there, and I thought to myself, "okay, where's the second choice? Where's that line on the left that everyone ignored for the greater wait because everyone else was waiting in the longer line?" I saw some stairs. I left the line and ran up the stairs, figuring that the climb would prove too complicated an option for the crowds, making the upstairs restroom lines much shorter. No such luck. There's a balcony at that theater, and the entire balcony was in line for the loo.
I walked downstairs. The line down there had gotten longer and I still was resolved not to wait in it.
A moment later I was outside the theater. It was cold out. I bumped into Greg Allen there, who was with a cigarette-smoking date. We exchanged a few silly words and then I ran off behind the theater.
I'm no fool. I took statistics in college. I know that while individual human behavior is infinitely complex, its group behavior can be laughably predictable. If I had thought to go outside, others must have had the same thought. But I rounded the corner and saw no one.
What I did see was another challenge. There was no alley back there. There was a wide open, brightly lit parking lot. To its left, a street with houses lining both sides; to its right, a church. Perhaps my journey was over. Perhaps this explained why no one else was out there. Maybe they saw the problem I saw and returned.
But I would not be daunted. It's a simple thing, urinating in private. One only needs to find privacy for a minute. I was determined to go where no man had gone before. The Church had many nooks and passages. Just beyond the light of a streetlamp I saw a sunken, walled section about six feet by six feet, which led to a basement level door in the foundation of the church. The section, strangely, had no stairs in or out and was surrounded by a railing--most likely to keep people like me out.
I stepped over the railing and then hoppped down into the sunken area. This way I could face the open lot and see if anyone was coming, while anyone coming would only see a bearded chin and a pair of glasses peeking up from beneath a railing. And then I peed. No one came during that minute. And when I was done, I used the rail to pull myself up to street level, then hopped the railing, and came back into the theater. Some of the same people who had been waiting in line when I left, had still not gotten inside the mens room door. I contemplated buying myself a beer to celebrate, but the lines were too long.
Rachel, who waited in line for the ladies room, missed the first song. And It was James K. Polk.
I have a very ambitious side, a side that is unwilling to accept that I cannot have what I want when I want it. This side of me has taken a long time to evolve into an acceptable--even purely helpful--personality trait. In my past, this side has led me down some obsessive paths and even destroyed some good friendships.
Yes, a part of me just wanted to pee and didn't want to wait and was willing to struggle to find the best, fastest (if not illegal and somewhat gauche) way to pee. But another part of me--and this is hard to admit--looked at that group of men in line and thought "I don't belong here. They can wait, but I shouldn't have to wait." So I bolted.
A part of my ambition comes from a sense of entitelment that I can't entirely shake. If I were separated into to two Andy's in a transporter accident, my ambitious side would have a wholely entitled personality.
My fiance and I get into a lot of discussions about this sort of thing. We have somewhat opposing world-views in that she sees these darker sides of ourselves as somehow being more honest than our lighter sides. It's a very western viewpoint, one could say very Freudian. As she sees it, these are the unconcious or subconcious motivators that need to be plummed and fully explored (as with a biopsy) so they can be excised (as we romove lumps of cancer.)
My opinion is almost opposite. I believe that the person who we want to be and strive to become, no matter how successful or unsuccessful we are at being that person, is more important than the shadow sides to our personalities that may contradict the image of that person. In other words, I believe that the darker sides of ourselves are more worthy of acknowledging and then ignoring, than exhaulting and then attacking--partly because I think they are cancers that cannot be removed. And I believe in seeing people as mostly good, trying hard to fight urges to be selfish, rather than selfish people pretending to be good. I believe that intentions are everything, that the darker feelings are instincts that run contrary to the work of our neo-cortexes and frontal lobes--that our values, reason and love define who we are as people, and that our selfishness, insecurity and desires tend to make up a part of us that can seem huge from time to time, but ultimately has no substance. They are, as the Buddhists like to say, tiny specks on our soul that cast huge shadows in our lives. A shadow can be vast, but a shadow is just a shadow. It has no substance and the light can penatrate it, while a shadow can never penatrate light. And a speck is only a speck.
Bottom line: Do I think that I'm better than anyone, that I'm more entitled? Absolutely not. Did the whole Kirk really want to take over his ship, beat up his friends and kill his good side? No way. If you asked me why I peed on a church, I would tell you the truth: I had to pee and I didn't want to wait in line. If you have the idea that somehow it is more true that I also felt a sense that I was entitled to skip the restroom line, then I would argue that such a fact gives you less truth. It is a psychic red herring.
I don't think we should ever pretend that our dark sides aren't there. But I also think we should be careful with the story that they tell. One can easily make oneself out to be a monster, or perhaps worse, a saint in a world of monsters.
You are the storyteller. This is your story. Don't split your hero in two.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home