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© 2018 Susan Jennings

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It's genetic (part 5)

August 7, 2017

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I kiss, I bite

November 22, 2000

 

So, apparently I'm a control freak. Just the fact that upon hearing this I demand examples probably confirms it. Seriously, I want to be in charge of how I, my environment, and my chosen expressions are experienced. I used to have a little script on my homepage that resized it to fit the background image exactly; I hate when it scrolls and repeats. That just looks stupid. But the resize script was soundly condemned by Ashley, and I eventually abandoned it. Sure I want it my way, but not at the expense of eliciting disgust from my own husband.

 

The entire web medium was infuriating to me for a long time, coming as I do from a traditional print background. "I want this color." Nope, it can look different depending on resolution, platform, and monitor settings. "I want this font." Nope, it's not a standard system font, it may default. "I want the layout framed just so." First of all the "layout" may not even look the same in HTML. And what, you gonna come reach over the viewer's shoulder and adjust the window size yourself? "Um... may I?" NO.

 

I think I can carry off my attempt to appear laid back pretty well until my meticulously orchestrated environment comes into the picture. When people first see our flat they marvel at how carefully put-together and decorated it is. The first question is always, "How long have you lived here?", like it must have taken years to get it all just so. No, really: I put a lot of time into putting things in their place. All the design in my life is exquisitely purposefully arranged, just as my verbal descriptions of things are worded for the greatest clarity of expression possible (unless I'm really just going for sensory overload).

 

Is it as unsavory as it sounds, this need for everything in its place? Do I take it further, and put people in their place too? Yes..?

 

How ugly is that?

 

What strikes others as judgment or qualification is to me simply objective, matter-of-fact observation. It's just a sort of constant analysis of what I'm perceiving, which I sometimes forget to not process into a vocalization. I can be accidentally very insensitive. But I'm such a hedonist and slave to my senses that sometimes I just don't think; I forget to turn the filters on.

 

If you know me, though, you've probably heard me say, "You are unbelievably talented" or "You deserve great things," just as many times as "You're not being honest with yourself" or "S/he's not the right one for you." The failed filters go both ways; it's anyone's guess whether I'm going to make you feel incredibly good or incredibly bad.

 

I try to take resonsibility for that -- I really don't want to make anyone feel bad. Sometimes I can't understand why what I think should be of such significance as to be capable of doing so; after, all I'm only saying what I see, and centuries of philosophers continue to point out that our senses are fallible.

 

Which would imply that hedonism itself has its intrinsic shortcomings. My plan is to pursue it anyway, with great abandon.

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