Rarely Asked Questions
Rarely asked questions is a series of short, flippant answers to questions that interest me but probably do not interest you—until perhaps you see the words here running across your mind. Do I make your clean, green, suburban lawn dirty? Are you keeping it real—paying abstract property taxes on the surreal estate? Oops. Wrong questions.
Today’s Question: “What’s wrong with my social life?”
When you ask yourself a question like that, you are probably asking it in a moment of despair. And you probably are beating up on yourself because you “know” the answer: it’s because “you suck” and “nobody likes you.” Why would you ask the question, when you seem to already know the answer? This behavior confuses me.
So instead of me being confused I will assume that you ask questions for an answer. I will assume that you are not indulging in egotistical neurosis, using my ears as a waste basket. I will assume that you are actually managing a serious investigation. Do I assume too much, Sherlock? Are all of these assumptions making an ass out of me? Should I “keep it real” and shut the fuck up? Kiss my ass…
Today’s Answer
I don’t claim to know everything. I don’t claim to have all the answers. And, of course, I have to write these sentences in order to defend myself against egocentric interpretations of my behavior. And this sentence will conclude this paragraph with more music to soothe that savage beast within you that is grown and fed on this egocentric language called English—a language heavily influenced by the Imperial Latin—of the empire that produced the white-supreme egos of the Caesars. Anyway…
First, you inherit your social life from the social lives of your intimate social circle—usually this is your family. I am well aware that such a statement flies in the face of the Pilgrims-off-the-Mayflower assumption that you start from nothing and build up a social life all by yourself. (I, by the way, call such successful social climbers “performance artists.”)
Are you a ‘poor’ kid? Say, yes, when you have a family that really doesn’t have interesting social lives. Let’s stop talking about greenbacks and start talking about fatbacks. Do you have a family that, say, descends from slavery? Is your family preoccupied with this legacy of slavery in very strange and indirect ways? —Does your family care for your social life? Let’s watch these words: did your family ever take care of your social life? Does your family systematically cultivate social activity—not even a family cookout at the park?
The answers for me are ‘yes,’ ‘yes,’ ‘yes,’ ‘no,’ ‘no’ and ‘they used to before all the divorces happened.’ Most of my family members sit in front of large televisions watching the artificial social lives of others. Am I blaming my family for my “own” shortcomings? Should I just get out there and really put on a show? Oops, sorry, we’re back on the Mayflower again…
Africanized Commentary
“What’s wrong with my social life?” is not a traditional African question. In the African context (as interpreted by rasx()), it is a contradiction by definition to speak of my social life. The social life is ours—not mine. So, now, when the question becomes, “What’s wrong with our social life?” We can see African societies in Inglewood, Darfur and Port-au-Prince and come up with crystal-clear, African answers.
“What’s wrong with my social life?” is an egocentric question that brings only misery and therapists lots of money. I am very glad that it is rarely asked.