I’m an NPR geek. The coming of Monday morning brings with it two podcasts: Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me and This American Life, giving me reason over the past few months to look forward to a day I (and most other people, traditionally) hate.
As I listen to This American Life, I realize that the skill of the contributors lies in putting people at ease with themselves so that they can tell their story in an authentic way. There is a clear avoidance of glossing over the content, as would happen in a newspaper story or magazine, which brings its own sort of editorial baggage. Context is supplied and, of course, editorial decisions are made about how to present each story on TAL, but the interviews aren’t belabored with the reactions of the interviewer, as happens on television. I imagine it’s a lot like poking in the right places to prompt the person to uncover what they have to say.
There was a line in the rerun that aired this week about the ten commandments, spoken by a seventh grader talking about her boyfriend: “‘Cause people were saying that he was talking shit about me.” It struck me, probably initially because of the profanity, but then I thought about it some more, and realized that it was probably so true to who she was. Not that she’s a profane individual, but rather that it was expressed how she would usually express it. No gloss, no cleaning it up for Ira Glass. I can’t imagine that I would have ever said something like that as a seventh grader, or even as a senior in high school when I had started swearing, or even now. The language isn’t off limits, I just can’t imagine wanting to swear on a recording. Which is disingeuous.
This is a pattern of my being–I keep my head down. I revel in being different and having different preferences, but I don’t like sticking out, to the point of it being almost a phobia. This unconscious pattern has probably affected more of my life than any conscious choices I’ve made over the course of my life, a fact that’s disturbing. It means I’d rather bury myself and my thoughts than risk whatever it is I fear risking by sticking out.
A friend recently re-posted a list of how to feel miserable as an artist. The bulk of the list can be summarized in less-effective language: be afraid of standing out, fear branching out, subjugate yourself. The list basically describes how to tear oneself apart from the inside, the artistic and the fearful parts of one’s being at odds. And it explains a lot about why I’ve been miserable. «»
