meditations on a sleepless morn, part V

continued from part I, wherein andrew compares not sleeping to digestion, part II, wherein andrew recites shampoo instructions and says strange things about death scenes, part III, wherein andrew reviews the film phoebe's wonderland, and part IV, wherein andrew confesses to nudity and happiness

if at this moment you burst through my bedroom door, took four steps, and sat yourself down on the foot of my bed--sorry, there's no chair in my room--and attempted to have a normal conversation with me, things would start off a little strange. i'd be shocked at your incorrigibility, barging in unannounced like that, and curious about how you managed to break through our locked front door so quietly. i might jump up in protest or surprise, which would be awkward for both of us and disastrous for my laptop. after settling back down under my covers, i might be happy for the company on this godforsaken, sleepless morning but nervous about the odd relational dynamic, given the presumable difference in our state of dress. 

however, if we somehow managed to bypass these rational responses of incredulity, if, perhaps, i were accustomed to you crashing through my bedroom door on random mornings at six o'clock, i think you would come away from our normal conversation with a sense that i revealed a normal amount of information about myself. even if our conversation meandered into more personal matters, it's unlikely you would later think, "wow, i can't believe he told me that." 

in fact, given my proclivity for question asking or my general sense that other people prefer talking about themselves to hearing me talk about myself (and the fact that i'm often perfectly happy with this arrangement), you might later think, "gee, i told andrew all about my personal life, and he hardly said a thing about himself--what a private fellow."

then you might absentmindedly pull out your iphone and open the facebook app to my online profile--you know you're always doing that. you'd scroll down through some literary links and funny youtube clips, past some obscure status updates that you couldn't decipher, and then arrive at a note from this blog series or a status update that seemed particularly revelatory.  

and then what? would you think the material andrew was too closed off? would you think the virtual andrew was too open? would you think these two shades of my self were inconsistent? 

i think i'm going to leave it there, in this hypothetical, questiony space. i'm not going to attempt an amazing last-minute web of connections between the various posts in this series. i had trouble sleeping and thought some thoughts--that's the plot.

and the conclusion? there isn't much of one. i know there's a lot i don't know--how to sleep, what it's like to have tourette's, or how to balance intimacy, art, and revelation. and more particularly to the theme of this post, should i value and enact openness or privacy? or should i see the two characteristics riding a seesaw of context that sometimes tips one way and then the other?

i do not know.

xoxoxoxoxoxo

PS incidentally, i'm only speaking of openness or revelation in the context of my life and my issues. i feel very strongly that the lives and issues of my friends and family are their business, and i actually think i'm pretty adept at not sharing about their lives or issues. just ask my roommate.

the quiescent nerd myth

as many of you know, i spent the last 3 years working as a research coordinator for the COGS, a multi-site study of schizophrenia. then, earlier this summer, a research angel came to relieve me of my COGS protocols, scheduling duties, and crashing database. i was delighted. but although i expected ms. sara goodnow to do a dynamite job in my place, i never expected her to be such a valuable asset to the 17 point scale. indeed, it turns out that sara bowls a 120, heralds from rural new york, and is dating a doctoral engineering student. these attributes make her unequivocally qualified as an informant in my latest blogging pursuit, an autobiographical biography of the other andrew (or something like that).

the felicity of sara was revealed at an off-site lunch on an otherwise gray day. seeking respite from another slice of hospital pizza, sara and i tumbled from sean's honda prelude into a philly cheesesteak dive on airport way. we made our way to the counter and pondered the menu. behind the cash register, a woman fixed me with an icy stare--apparently this wasn't the city of brotherly love. i mumbled an order. she frowned and thrust her open palm toward me. scrambling for my wallet i promptly forgot whether i had ordered the medium or large. "goose-chicken," i thought, "i really would prefer the medium," but she was already taking sean's order. "yikes." if this wasn't philly, then where was the characteristic seattle friendliness?

afraid for my food, i swallowed my curiosity. things were getting grim. in retrospect, i suppose that meant we were ripe for a miracle. after all, we tend to notice the light when it's dark not in the daylight. when our sandwiches arrived, we discussed our evening plans. a momentary burn in my throat tore my attention from the conversation. hmmmmmm, horse radish. after a swig of water, i looked up to hear sara talking of engineers, "i don't know," she drawled, "they're just really quiet...maybe it's a brainy awkwardness...."

as sara's words trailed off, my mind snapped into blog mode. yes, i thought, whether they be english profs, computer geeks, or [fill in a random intellectual stereotype, e.g., engineers], brainiacs seem to lack the natural rhythms of everyday conversation. chatting with smart folks is a bit like my morning commute. you crawl sluggishly forward, hit an open stretch after the aurora bridge, take the harbor island exit into gridlock, and then escape into the steady streets of beacon hill. start, stop, start, stop. such conversations are intriguing yet strained.

and, until recently, i would have lumped the other andrew into this category. after all, i rarely watched him interact with others, and our conversations tended to hover in a state of friendly, well-meaning awkwardness. but in the last months, i've realized that this impression of andrew is more likely an indicator of how i respond to people that i perceive as brainy than a true picture of the other andrew. perhaps it's a bit of what sociologists like to call the self-fulfilling prophecy. i think, "wow, that person is wicked smart," and then begin to waiver in my conversational confidence. i flip the censorship switch and suddenly all of my questions, all of my odd quirky perspectives, all of my conversation kindling are deemed irrelevant; they are turned to an invisible mush. perhaps then my ineptitude makes smart person uncomfortable, and, somehow sensing that i expect them to be incapable of anything but dull nerd-speak, they too stall.

if this sounds crazy, consider the following evidence from our case study: (a) over the last few months i have learned that andrew is surprisingly quite gregarious; he laughs, he quips, he speaks thoughtfully; indeed, he seems perfectly comfortable in conversation; (b) actually, my first point has so convinced me that i don't feel the need to continue with this list.

so "where do we go from here? the words are coming out all weird. where are you now when i need you...?"



andrew david. "laughing at andrew's camera skills and blogging troubles" mount pilchuck, wa.
539 to go.

cue the same old revelation, again...

i keep learning the same things about myself. i'm not certain if this is because i'm a renewable fountain of self-intuition or because i've fallen prey to some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. you be the judge.

monday evening we celebrated mari's birthday at the kiwi and kangaroo. the pub is remarkable not because of its $6 meat pie, chips, and pint specials (check the website for this and other deals) but because of its cosmic connection with the 17 point scale. the spirits of barrel-bodied aussies populate this bar, and i think they're getting in my head. this may sound a little like inebriation (i swear, officer, i only had one cider, just one), but some force from the southern-most inhabited continent has confused my blog with an epic poem. and, as all good aussies know, every epic poem needs a muse. thus, each time i visit the k and k, i find myself in a strangely thoughtful mood. for instance, my previous visit to aurora's only true blue bar resulted in several dreamy-eyed revelations including a genius advertising campaign.

during my most recent visit to the kiwi and kangaroo, i had yet another introspective moment. i (re) learned that i tend to get grumpy in large social situations. it could be over-stimulation or a mild case of claustrophobia (too many people!), but i'm more inclined to think that it's just a matter of preference. i have a hearty dislike for small talk, group getting-to-know-you chats, and silly drinking games. a nice dinner conversation is fine, but conversational free-for-alls just aren't my thing.

(does this make me odd? or do others share this same experience? i'd wager a few copper coins that some people actually drink for this very reason. that seems a little counterintuitive to me: here, drink this elixir, it will make you enjoy that which you don't normally enjoy. it will turn your whole world upside down. hmmm...maybe it's like God: here, say this prayer. God will make you go places and serve people that you would normally avoid. He will turn your whole world upside down. crazy. this analogy may have some wacky implications.)

on this particular evening, i found myself drifting away from the group. it wasn't long before i was alone at the bar. and here's where i made yet another (re) discovery: i like experiments. monday's study was a subjective sociology experiment; what's it like to be a lone guy at the bar? the conditions for my study were less than optimal. i assume that many bar dwellers are talkative; they chat up the bartender, their neighbors, and especially that cute girl in the short black skirt, but (as i said previously) i was seeking solitude (and i could probably ask beth to wear a short black skirt). nonetheless, i caught a glimpse at the awkwardness of drinking alone. the bloke to my right was ordering a drink, and i couldn't tell if he was alone. i wasn't sure of proper protocol--should i avoid eye contact? nod a silent greeting and feign interest in the romania's easy victory over armenia? gosh, it was strange. unfortunately, before i could gather more data about the experience, social norms irresistably tugged me back to the group. nonetheless, now i know that the next time social gatherings make me feel a bit stir crazy, i can simply pull out my pencil and paper and continue my research...


andrew david. 'fishies' mismaloya, day 2.
a picture from snorkeling in mismaloya. it's a bit premature to skip to day 2 like this, but this has been my wallpaper for the past week, and for some reason i had an intense desire to get it up on the web.