When I came across this picture on Palahniuk & Chocolate blog I immediately knew it was true. I printed it out and put it up on my wall above my desk. It's nicely positioned right next to my favorite quote by Von Allan: Suck Less.
I don't like kicking around subtle differences between existentialism and absurdism. Or picking apart whether life is in service to or a journey toward. Or I hold a linear or circular view of the universe, or am outer-world or inner-world dependent. And finally do I live in self-dedication to the goal or self-liberation from the false "Me"?
Okay. What. Ever.
I believe in two philosophical tenants: good manners, and taking turns.
Holding the door open for someone. Saying please and thank you. Asking the person behind the counter how her day is going. When we can choose between snarky and supportive, why don't we always choose the latter? Why would I ever walk through a door and not look to see if someone was following right behind me? Why would I not ask the young man in the parking garage ticket booth how his day is going? Having said that, I fail at this every day. Even with my own family. And my friends. I forget. Or quite frankly just don't feel like it because I'm too self-absorbed in my self-loathing to be bothered with you. Which is exactly when I need to hand someone a napkin.
For me taking turns looks like tether ball on the playground. Remember tether ball? I used to be the neighborhood champion. Well, not really. Actually, my next door neighbor Kathy was the reigning queen for the years we had a pole in my backyard - but she was three years older than me and taller and... well, just better. In any event, remember at school when there was a line and the loser rotated out so the next kid could play the winner? And it was great because if you were winning you could play all recess, right?
But then there was that one kid. Remember that one kid who lost and said, "no wait, she carried the ball, so I want another turn." And again. And again. That one kid. Then the bell rang and everybody was a little bit angry. When it was time to share the glue with that kid, nobody wanted to, and we were less inclined to share with each other because what if there wasn't enough to go around? We'd run out of time for our turn on the playground, so what if the glue runs out and we don't have enough? Then at lunch, we took extra tater tots. We had to make sure we got our share, and who cares if the girl at the end of the line, who really did win at tether ball, got her tater tots?
The sense of paucity that seems to settle over our lives like ash from a tremendous fire is gray and thick and makes it hard to breathe. And when we can't breathe who wants to waste air on pleasantries? We might run out of air, or time, or money. Or patience. Have you ever watched people in line when someone starts to write a check for his purchase? You would have thought he pulled out coins. Have you seen the faces and heard the sighs in the people in that line? I have. I felt so sorry for the immigrant woman with her young child trying to make sense out of her U.S. dollars and coins that day in Target.
If you don't like my words: good manners and taking turns. Perhaps Von's words might be just the perfect fit for your life. Suck. Less.
