Illustrious Illeism

 

Illeism - noun - referring to the self in third person in order to separate oneself from the self.

Is it possible to separate oneself from the self for clarity?

One of my favorite television series has always been "Sex and the City." Although it saw its last episode a while ago, I still like to watch all six seasons via HBO Max. The latest installment, the sequel,"And Just Like That" just isn't the same, especially sans the controversial character of Samantha. Say what you will about the original. You can't argue that it isn't well written for what it is: risky, bawdy, yet groundbreaking cable TV. As I have been a writer since my twenties (a long time) and a high-school English teacher to boot, I can appreciate how the character of Carrie, a journalist, begins each episode with a question. (I might have stolen the idea a few times to use in my classroom, but don't quote me on that.) One show from the fourth season, I believe, features the theme of perception: how we can never quite perceive ourselves with an absolute degree of accuracy. Which is true. We can't. We are either too self-critical or too self-justifying or too self-somewhere-in-between. Not being able to judge oneself well, I think, may be one of the myriad flaws of human nature. However, if you are the exception (in the extreme minority) and tend to view yourself authentically, society considers you "cursed with self-awareness" as ironically, it can be a liability when you are flying solo 20/20 in a farsighted or blind community. So either way, I guess we caught in a Catch-22 and can't win.

Last week, I was scrolling through the BBC's World News' website and came across an article devoted to the concept of self-perception. Apparently, there are individuals out there who can dole out the advice, but when it comes to being able to self-direct, they can't, probably because they are too close to themselves; so when they look at themselves in a mirror, they have a tough time seeing themselves for who they are. In short, they can dish it out, but can't take it, meaning their own advice. But how can you advise yourself if you can't read yourself realistically? The BBC's answer? Illeism. According to the article, ostensibly, you have to provide yourself some distance from yourself by talking to yourself in the third person, which is known as Illeism. Here's an example: "You know, Gwyn, you really should try to stop coming across as a know-it-all and mind your own business when it comes to other people's lives." You get the idea. 

I suppose the idea isn't new since perfectly sane people (?) have been talking to themselves in third person since forever. I suppose it may make sense to try if you are indeed capable of separating yourself from your ego long enough to see that it could be the reason why you can't recognize your own shortcomings. 

Let's face it (if we can), being human isn't easy. Life isn't easy. It was never meant to be. A little bit of self-deception is probably not too self-destructive. For instance, if I look in the glass this morning and see a rock star, will the falsity kill me? Probably not. A boost of fake reality may just make me feel like I can tackle the actual day better. Is there anything wrong with that?

Speaking of rock stars, I'll leave you with a bit of sound advice borrowed from Pink Floyd albeit I might have quoted it before: "Shine on, you crazy diamonds." Be your best self, whomever you perceive yourself to be. 

#word-to-words, #slice-of-life,  #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #philosophy, #truth #relationships   

Love and Marriage in Perpetuity

 

in perpetuity - forever

About a week ago, I came across the phrase "in perpetuity" as I was registering one of the singles off of my second, original album with BMI, a "performance rights" agency that distributes loyalties to composers/artists after their copyrighted music has been played publicly.  It definitely has a legal, contractual ring to it. Lucky for me, all I had to do was check off a box, agreeing that I am and will be the sole owner of the rights to the song forever. And as we know, forever is a very long time. 

In life, contracts abound. In fact, we can't get through reality as adults sans signing agreements. That being stated, few belong under the nomenclature of "in perpetuity." However, marriage does promise to be interminable albeit the divorce rate in reality tends to nullify the original arrangement and usually quite expeditiously at that. Still, there are exemplary couples that embrace the covenant for the long term. In March, I unveiled the ingredients necessary to perpetuate a loving relationship. The blog was called "Netflix and the Secret of Loving Longer." Which had all of two readers. (I'm going for at least three this time around.) Ever since I saw that documentary about the uber committed couple, living happily in perpetuity up in Vermont, I have been meeting real people who mirror that particular pair in at least one sense. 

Just today, as my musical partner and I were setting up to perform Sinatra and Motown tunes for about fifty residents in an assisted living facility, an elderly husband and wife were ensconced in the third row of the house, 30 minutes early, watching reruns of Seinfeld on the TV situated just above our heads. The gentleman just happened to mention that he and his bride had recently celebrated 70 years of marriage. Yes, 70. Most of us don't make it to ten, sadly enough. Of course, I didn't want to assume that what I had noted in the aforementioned blog could possibly apply to everyday reality, but surprisingly, it does. 

This ordinary human being verified a theory I had had even before I watched Netflix, perhaps even before there was a Netflix. The male (sorry, but this might only be true for straight couples) in a long-term relationship has to possess a stubborn choke hold on love. In clearer, less violently graphic terms, he has to be in love with his woman in perpetuity. The euphoric, somewhat seemingly nonviable emotional state has to last forever. Or the deal is off. My own father hung onto an unrequited love affair (or should I say, a marriage) with my mother in perpetuity in spite of her being an often difficult, imperious woman who had pretty much nothing in common with him. Since he was in love with her, it didn't much matter that she didn't return his variety of love because it made him blind to any and all imperfections she inhabited. Ergo the union lasted until the death-do-us-part clause of the agreement kicked in. He never remarried although he did date a woman only because she reminded him of my mother. (You see what I mean? In perpetuity is without a doubt forever.)

So there you have it, ladies. If you believe in marriage (or even a monogamous liaison) and want yours to last forever, just find a man who is head over heels in love with you. If you do, like the song "At Last" that I am learning for my next gig at a local nursing home, a spell will be cast, you'll feel like you're in heaven, and he will be yours in perpetuity "at last." 

#love #marriage #word-to-words, #slice-of-life,  #blog, #blogging, #editorial, #reading, #vocabulary, #ReadersMagnet, #spilled thoughts, #good advice, #personal-essay, #writing community, #writing, #philosophy, #truth #relationships #forever #monogamy  

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes, Literally and Figuratively

 

deleterious - adjective - causing harm or damage (Google)

Just in case you are unaware (or live under a rock), because of the seemingly preternatural abundance of wild fires burning in Canada and the southerly direction of the wind, the New York metropolitan area has been enveloped in smoke. The normally blue skies at this time of year appear to be burned a gray-orange, and the air is tinged with a corrosive musk, deleterious to the eyes and lungs of all creatures. Even with our advanced technology, there is little we humans can do but wait for the forces of nature to find us relief. Yet until that happens (it might take days for the patterns of wind to change), all of us in the path of the smoke will have to find suitable cover in order to prevent smoke from literally getting in our eyes and elsewhere. 

In the 1960s, my pianist grandmother (1888-1983) introduced an inchoate me to a song, "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes" written by Jerome Kern and Otto Harbach for a 1933 musical called Roberta. Since at the time, I was not even into my second decade of life, I couldn't distinguish between the literal and the figurative, so I just thought that the song's title underscored one of the hazards of smoking cigarettes, a popular pastime at the time, around non-smokers. How naive of me. It turned out that the lyrics contain tropes that have nothing to do with the superficial. The words denote the deleterious nature of romantic love. Passion, to be precise. In short, the heat of lovemaking tends to produce a wild fire, which in turn, exudes smoke, which in turn, gets in the lover's eyes, blinding him to any semblance of reality. "When your heart's on fire/you must realize smoke gets in your eyes."  In the tune, the female lover absconds with the heart of her partner, leaving him with tears as a consolation prize (the effect of the cause) and the thought that "when a lovely flame dies/smoke gets in your eyes." Which simply implies that he will remain blind to her faults even though he is enduring heartbreak. 

It pains me to think that in this natural crisis, there are individuals out there on the East Coast who ironically may be experiencing both the literal and the figurative meanings of "smoke gets in your eyes." If you are, then my heart goes out to you. All I can say is find a safe haven inside of a building possessing an interior that doesn't remind you of your ex and wear an N95 mask if you have to go outside :). After all, you just can't afford to have any more smoke getting in your eyes.

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