This is Water

Many times during the past few days, as I scramble through life's peaks and valleys, I've thought, "I need to read David Foster Wallace's speech, I need to read David Foster Wallace's speech, don't forget to look that up next time you are at the computer," and today I actually remembered. It's his 2005 Commencement Address at Kenyon College.

DFW talks about the true value of a liberal arts education: that it teaches us how to think, but not in the cliched way we have heard. It means we can choose whether our thoughts wander through the "default setting" or whether we construct meaning.

From what I've gleaned, the default setting is the state of mind where you see yourself as the center of the universe with little care and awareness for how others see the world. You become blind from "interpret[ing] everything through this lens of self." The default mode is letting our thoughts run like water, day after day, into the same channels making the grooves deeper and deeper until we are hopelessly locked in to routine.

It is about worshipping the false gods with which "the man" distracts us. It is believing that our "immediate needs and feelings are what should determine the world's priorities." And when you are not in default mode, when you are free, then you can choose how you see the world, you can be aware of the present, decide what is meaningful, be "well-adjusted" as he says, and choosing to keep your ethics in the front of your mind. Constant awareness of what is real and essential. In that way you can avoid a midlife crisis!

DFW says that freedom is about "being able to truly care about other people and to sacrifice for them over and over in myriad petty, unsexy ways every day." (God, he is good with words.)

David Foster Wallace, I am guilty as charged (although you are not speaking to me, since I am not the center of the universe).

I wander through the world vexed by petty frustrations, crabby, certain that life is challenging only for me, that my needs trump everyone else's, that everyone should do what I want them to do - not because I know what is best for them - but because I want it. I bear grudges toward those who have hurt me, sigh loudly when people ask me to do things that I don't want to do, refuse to take "no" for an answer.

I have one spot that I am proud of: I really try to make life easier for my mother. A few months ago, I dreamt that she died and I regretted every time I had laughed at her or not done the dishes. And I will, if I let myself behave like that. So, I grit my teeth when she drives slowly. I unload the dishwasher when I get home and clean out the coffee grounds from the filter. I close the cabinets in the kitchen because open cupboards drive her nuts. I spend time with her and paint her nails. The only things I don't do are cook, drive safely, and approve of her conservation of the wine supply.

But really, I focus on myself. I want to see my 2006 ex-boyfriend because I want attention and love, not because I want him to feel attention and love. Wanting to hear from another ex that he misses me enough to want to be a proper boyfriend, but not because I really miss him, but rather to feed my vanity (and give me attention and a cuddle). Utterly selfish. (Not that being self-sacrificing with some of the men I have dated makes them give me love and attention)

I rely on heuristics to judge people and places instead of letting experience guide me. Sometimes I use "retarded" to mean "stupid" and I know that is hurtful. Though I do not use "gay" to mean "stupid." I talk about doing more to help the needy this winter, but I haven't picked up a gift basket assignment from church. I can do better, and until I read this, I thought I was doing the best I could. I was running on default.

Today I was sitting at my desk feeling sorry for myself about how much I have to work to earn the little money I have, and I realized that I am ridiculous. Not just because I have so much to be thankful for (home, clothing, family, friends, urban life, a job), but because everyone has worries. My problems are normal and surmountable.