Sans Fig Leaf
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"My idea of fun"
18 May, 2006
Occasionally I'm asked by people I don't know real well what I did last weekend, or what my plans are for the coming weekend. Foolishly, I usually answer truthfully. Because of my many writing projects, personal and otherwise, I always have plans for the weekend, and they usually involve me writing or editing something, or finishing a layout, or organizing some other thing.
No matter whether I think it's a full weekend or an almost completely free weekend, the response is usually a shocked, "Don't you ever do anything for fun?" Sometimes they express stronger emotions than shock or surprise. One guy that I ran into from time-to-time on line kept asking if I was working on papers again. No matter how many times I told him otherwise, he thought I was working on homework for some classes I was taking. It wasn't just that he didn't remember. He couldn't understand why anyone would write anything unless they were being forced for some reason.
All these folks are quite certain that something must be horribly wrong with me. Some of the conversations have turned into almost angry attempts at an intervention. As if I need to be saved from myself.
They never seem to believe me that it is fun. Yes, as with any endeavor, there can be frustrations and tedium along the way, but creating, helping others create, publishing what has been created, is more enjoyable than not.
If I ask what sorts of things they think I ought to do to have fun, or at least what they do, the answers seldom appeal to me. Hanging out in a bar with a bunch of drunk (or at least tipsy) strangers isn't my idea of a good time. It's not that I object to alcohol, goddess knows, to be honest it's mostly the strangers that are the problem.
As an introvert, being around other people drains me, rather than revitalizes me. I'm not shy or anti-social, by any means (I would hardly organize monthly get-togethers at our place if I were). Strangers are much more draining than people I know well.
Getting to know someone requires time to talk and share. It's virtually impossible to have that kind of conversation in a bar or dance club. I don't mind hanging out in a place like that if I'm with a bunch of friends. But most of my friends are even less interested in those kinds of places than I am.
It's not just the writing that seems to flabbergast these guys. If I mention reading they react much the same way. Heaven forfend they visit the house and get a look at all the books in the bookcases in the living room. Some folks freak out at the sight of all the books. If they happen to use the bathroom, they get further freaked when they see more bookcases in the hallway and computer room.
One of the weirder reactions I ever got was a guy who asserted that the reason he didn't read was because he wanted to think original thoughts. The irony was that everything he thought was a deep or brilliant idea was pretty shallow, ill-conceived, and cliched.
Humans are cultural beings. If we don't expose ourselves to a variety of ideas and viewpoints we will absorb the ideas and viewpoints of the people around us--the most obvious of those viewpoints are the easiest to adopt.
It's a stage we all go through. For me, the more I read and wrote the harder it was to accept those viewpoints as the be-all and end-all of thought. I mention the writing because it is equally important. Just as you can't learn a new language without trying to converse with people who speak it, you don't really learn new ideas until you try to express them yourself.
Which makes it sound like homework, again. And that's not quite right, though it isn't entirely wrong. Because I realized that my idea of fun always includes learning.
--Oscar Wilde
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