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The inanimate object
Sometimes on Wednesday nights, I join an online writing session--you know the type of thing: everyone introduces themselves, then settles down for X amount of time for writing, then comes back together to chat about it. Usually, along with the introductions, there's some kind of icebreaker question...
The icebreaker question was, "Describe an inanimate object that's important to you."
Well if you ask me this, it turns out I've never experienced an inanimate object, I live in an organic haze 24/7, I don't even know what the words mean--what is this "inorganic" of which you speak?
Illustrative example: I thought, I know! I'll talk about my loquat trees! ... Oh wait.
And then, that's as far as my imagination would take me.
I glanced around my desk. My phone? --No don't say phone! Only a shallow person says phone.
Those books? --Books?! What kind of a lame, kiss-ass answer is that?
Uhhhh, the nasal spay? The hole puncher? The stapler? --The stapler?! My God, woman, it's nearly your turn!
Meanwhile one woman was talking about a letter her mom had written to her when she was pregnant with her. The mom had then died when the speaker was fourteen. Oh wow, murmured the assembled Zoom crowd, practically vibrating with compassion and sympathy.
I mentally rolled my eyes. OK. Fine. She wins for touching, moving story. And now all letters are off limits. (And that was a good idea, too! Letters! I have some precious letters. But NOPE! No copying!!)
Another woman--a friend of mine in town--talked about her octopus earrings. "I always thought that if I didn't become a teacher and writer, I'd like to become a naturalist. I really love nature and the natural world."
(Me, burning with resentment: I love nature and the natural world.)
"Anyway--you know that movie My Octopus Teacher?" Everyone fervently nods and assents. "Yeah, well... so these earrings remind me of that, and how we're all connected."
(Me, the resentment now high enough to fire porcelain. No, I think we're all connected.)
I thought about my chambira-fiber bracelets from the Amazon. They are actually important to me! But now talking about them would feel too me-too-ish. It's adornment like the earrings were adornment; it's more we're-all-connected stuff, and furthermore, it's real your-privilege-is-showing material, and I like to keep that hidden! What me? Little old me? Why sure I have some privilege, but it's not like I'm buying trips to the Amazon or anything...
And anyway, I wanted to do something different. The thing about these little icebreakers is, they're mini-storytelling opportunities. Tell an interesting story! And often I just can't: I freeze up. And yet I want to be good at it. Not just good... I want to be THE BEST... I know, I know. We're all special in our own way. I know! Welcome to my seamy underside.
Then suddenly it was my turn.
Me: "Well. My mind is a desert today, so I was looking around my desk for inspiration, and, uh. Well. There's this stapler. As you can see, it's kind of cute, all rounded and small. And the thing is, everyone in the family likes to use it. They come into the study to get it, and then for a while it'll go live on the kitchen table. So that's kind of nice, you know? Something everyone uses. [Note: currently the only person besides me living in the house is Wakanomori.] So, uh. It's not really super special to me, but I like that about it."
(It was a real Happy Birthday Miss Jones moment.)
It *is* cute, though, right?
I was rewarded by the fact that this tough, cool, older-than-me woman from Lowell then said that she too had trouble thinking of something and so had been looking around her room. But I was punished by the fact that she picked a little vase that she always keeps full of fresh flowers. --DAMN. Why don't I keep fresh flowers in a little vase in my study???
So there you go folks! Unvarnished Asakiyume!
The icebreaker question was, "Describe an inanimate object that's important to you."
Well if you ask me this, it turns out I've never experienced an inanimate object, I live in an organic haze 24/7, I don't even know what the words mean--what is this "inorganic" of which you speak?
Illustrative example: I thought, I know! I'll talk about my loquat trees! ... Oh wait.
And then, that's as far as my imagination would take me.
I glanced around my desk. My phone? --No don't say phone! Only a shallow person says phone.
Those books? --Books?! What kind of a lame, kiss-ass answer is that?
Uhhhh, the nasal spay? The hole puncher? The stapler? --The stapler?! My God, woman, it's nearly your turn!
Meanwhile one woman was talking about a letter her mom had written to her when she was pregnant with her. The mom had then died when the speaker was fourteen. Oh wow, murmured the assembled Zoom crowd, practically vibrating with compassion and sympathy.
I mentally rolled my eyes. OK. Fine. She wins for touching, moving story. And now all letters are off limits. (And that was a good idea, too! Letters! I have some precious letters. But NOPE! No copying!!)
Another woman--a friend of mine in town--talked about her octopus earrings. "I always thought that if I didn't become a teacher and writer, I'd like to become a naturalist. I really love nature and the natural world."
(Me, burning with resentment: I love nature and the natural world.)
"Anyway--you know that movie My Octopus Teacher?" Everyone fervently nods and assents. "Yeah, well... so these earrings remind me of that, and how we're all connected."
(Me, the resentment now high enough to fire porcelain. No, I think we're all connected.)
I thought about my chambira-fiber bracelets from the Amazon. They are actually important to me! But now talking about them would feel too me-too-ish. It's adornment like the earrings were adornment; it's more we're-all-connected stuff, and furthermore, it's real your-privilege-is-showing material, and I like to keep that hidden! What me? Little old me? Why sure I have some privilege, but it's not like I'm buying trips to the Amazon or anything...
And anyway, I wanted to do something different. The thing about these little icebreakers is, they're mini-storytelling opportunities. Tell an interesting story! And often I just can't: I freeze up. And yet I want to be good at it. Not just good... I want to be THE BEST... I know, I know. We're all special in our own way. I know! Welcome to my seamy underside.
Then suddenly it was my turn.
Me: "Well. My mind is a desert today, so I was looking around my desk for inspiration, and, uh. Well. There's this stapler. As you can see, it's kind of cute, all rounded and small. And the thing is, everyone in the family likes to use it. They come into the study to get it, and then for a while it'll go live on the kitchen table. So that's kind of nice, you know? Something everyone uses. [Note: currently the only person besides me living in the house is Wakanomori.] So, uh. It's not really super special to me, but I like that about it."
(It was a real Happy Birthday Miss Jones moment.)
I was rewarded by the fact that this tough, cool, older-than-me woman from Lowell then said that she too had trouble thinking of something and so had been looking around her room. But I was punished by the fact that she picked a little vase that she always keeps full of fresh flowers. --DAMN. Why don't I keep fresh flowers in a little vase in my study???
So there you go folks! Unvarnished Asakiyume!
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