seriousness and silliness

[asakiyume]

"Their rapt immersion evokes a familiar resentment in me"
I remember the ninja girl telling me about a scene in Alison Bechdel's Fun Home, with everyone in the family in their own corner of the house, deeply engaged in their private pursuits. I remember at the time I felt implicated--she didn't mention it in an accusing way, just in passing--but still: it seemed to me even then something that we, as a family, were prone to.

So now I'm actually reading Fun Home (for book group), and I arrived at that part, and it's even more indicting:

It was a vicious circle, though. The more gratification we found in our own geniuses, the more isolated we grew.

Don't get me wrong: as a private person with lots of things I like doing alone, I'm not advocating lots of enforced togetherness and activities that are first choice for no one. Especially now: my kids are all out in the world or are very shortly going to be venturing out into the world--it's right for them to be doing their own thing. But Bechdel describes her natal family as like an artists' colony, and that's not what I want for when we do all come together. I guess where I'm at now is that we should be looking out at each other with interest and receptivity (and love)--that that's what a family does for its members.

1992, as seen from 1969
On a lighter note, the healing angel got a collection of Philip K. Dick's short stories for Christmas. I've never read any Philip K. Dick! So, we've been reading some of these stories after dinner. Last night we read The Electric Ant (1969). It's about a guy who discovers he's a robot and decides to tamper with his inner workings to try to alter his perceptions of reality . . . or perhaps reality itself, guys! Like psychedelic drug trips, only with computers.

His reality is mediated via a roll of punch-card magnetic tape. There are flying cars called squibs and video phones (that you dial, and that are stationary) called fones, and if you want to access a computer (a big giant UNIVAC-style thing), you have to dial it up--no personal computers. It all takes place in the far future of 1992.

Comments

[asakiyume.livejournal.com]

I really like how you describe your craft room. It sounds blissful and warm and creative.

Thinking of your first paragraph, one thing I remember from Sirens, from writers who've continued with writing while they had small children, was the setting aside of time or space where they weren't to be bothered. They all did that--even if the space was just separated from the surroundings by a curtain. But of course when kids are **really** little, they can't be asked to not interrupt (babies cry; toddlers don't understand those rules), so yeah, private time, let alone private creative time, can be hard. Enjoying creativity that can tolerate interruptions (like in the craft room) is one way to get around the problem.