The Subtle Saga of Susan

Part One

Conversation, for Susan, revolved around "the real."  If a friend, in a fickle mood, happened to depart from "the real," conversation was neither desirable nor possible for Susan.  She saw no point in remaining physically available for discourse, as only pretense would result.  Pretense repelled her at the most fundamental level of her being.

What, exactly, was "the real?"  "The real" was the true essence of the person.  Susan knew "the real" of a person by the way the person's features relaxed deeply into his face, making way for the soul to come forth; by the fluidity and pace of his speech; by the absence of darting eyes and nervous or pointless gestures; by the way the person "sat" habitually in his own body.

A person, after all, could visibly remove "the real," temporarily wishing it away and adopting a new persona for purposes of social melding.  This practice was routine, Susan could not help but notice, to social butterflies, manipulators, and the more insecure types.  The minute the telltale signs of "persona change" emerged in group scenarios, Susan no longer bothered feeling dismayed.  She accepted the loss instantly, moving on to someone more genuine or -- ignorance being bliss -- to someone she did not yet know. This worked well for pain control.

(Reprinted from "Turquoise" post dated 7-17-11)

Part Two

Pain.  What kinds of things caused Susan pain?

The onset of another's socially tailored "approach" to herself, for example, caused Susan the pain of silent outrage.  The "tailored approach" was a person's contrived "gearing up" of face and voice to pose a "sensitive" question ("sensitive," most likely, to the other person) to Susan about herself as though she were an alien creature.  This was always the "Here comes the face" moment, when the other's face would lean in toward Susan with exaggerated intent . . . betraying the poorest acting abilities imaginable, along with rattled nerves.

Susan thought of this as the "kid gloves" approach, the utterly transparent social method of "handling" a presumably "fragile" person.  More often than not, such an approach was actually "the velvet glove that hides the fist," and the "kid gloves" would have been better applied to the emotionally unstable questioner.  Such questioners usually believed they were successfully masking some degree of their own unvented spleen, personal axes to grind lurking beneath the surface.

Picture, for a moment, the camera honing in on an aging female psychotherapist with numerous small facial tics and twitches due to unacknowledged, unmitigated resentment.  Imagine the camera moving closer and closer as the therapist's face grows larger and larger, the lens exposing each twitch of the ever-tightening lips which, themselves, compress the existence of sheer rage, lips which open only against the most extreme inner tension to form the words, "Tell me, dear, why duplicitous people upset you."

This is how the approach of "handling people" appeared to Susan.

Invariably, in such cases, the "ax" floating beneath the surface was not Susan's "ax," but rather the dissatisfaction and bitterness of another who would have done better to mind his own business with discretion and dignity. 

(Reprinted from "Turquoise" post dated 7-19-11)

Part Three (new)

Games and angles -- how they put "white noise" into the air, wasting time, wasting space, leading people hither and thither when a single genuine word would have summarized things nicely!  Perhaps the people who choreographed these stilted interactions were bored.  A poor excuse, however, to play with other people's minds and time.

How such individuals hurt and distanced others -- how they fomented discord and mistrust!  And to what purpose?  Truth was always faster, simpler, cleaner.  Were such game players holding themselves "above" truth?  Did they feel too superior to stoop to its simplicity?  Perhaps unvarnished truth did not appear intellectual enough or complex enough to bolster their own pride.  Perhaps. 

But enough.  Enough time had already been handed over to game players in this crooked world.  Susan would hand over no more.

(To be continued . . . . . )