The Extension Dilemma
My wife has a true talent for taking me on the bus to Abilene. I learned via Susan Cain, author of the best-selling book Quiet
that this is a military expression that alludes to an old story about a
family that went to a place called Abilene to spend the day only to
find out that neither of them actually wanted to go. Apparently,
soldiers use this term when their often charismatic superiors put them
in dubious situations. The family ended up there because the most
charismatic and outspoken member of their clan convinced them to go.
Enter the phenomenon of charismatic leadership and its effect on my
personal life. It seems that due to the Abilene process we are
currently debating whether or not to go to Vermont for my upcoming
vacation. The tension surrounding this trip brings me to one
conclusion. My wife the charismatic leader of our family and driver of
the bus to Abilene is not only a master at loading it to capacity, she
drives it better than most. But, although she is sometimes very savvy
at convincing me to do some things, the one place her influence does not
reach is my choices where media is concerned; a fact that I imagine
must infuriate her since she sells media for a living.
At times it seems that our conflicting sensibilities, mine stemming from education and her sales are often the reasons for the occasional marital spat. But ironically we share a common goal. We just want to be understood and appreciated, preferably by one another. In addition, we want the people in our lives to get us. But the realization that kicks me in the teeth is that her quest for self-affirmation comes with a fierce sales pitch that I could neither hope to understand nor execute. Her base of operations is a virtual sales floor; a social arrangement of pixelated personalities that all follow one golden rule: sell yourself via selfies, likes and comments.
I figured this out during one of our occasional arguments. She became annoyed with me because I failed to watch a You-Tube video clip of some dude singing. At first she accused me of “not ever wanting to share her world” And then told me that “everyone else” she sent it to were miraculously brought to their happy places after viewing it which, in my mind (and emotions) implied that my failure to do so just meant that I was incapable of happiness and that I was just plain mean. So my guess was that all of these “happy people” were probably passengers on her bus on its usual route to that magical destination where everyone there shares her likes, understands her and comments joyfully during the ride with affirming gestures reassuring her that she is not alone. I noticed her talents again in real time as she and her cousin watched an episode of “House of Lies” and flashing back to the first time she tried to convince me to watch that show, encouraging me that I would surely like it because it was a show that fit my personality. I wonder if she used the same sales pitch to convince her cousin who now watches it with the same enthusiasm as her. If so, it apparently worked. Over the years I have watched her convince friends and relatives alike of what shows to watch, restaurants to dine and music to listen to with impressive success. Her sales pitch is solid. Her biggest problem with me is that it seems to work with everyone else except me. But I’m not sure this is a good or a bad thing. On one hand, it feels good to be my own man with my own interests. Drinking from the same main stream as everyone else has always bothered me. That kind of conformity terrifies me because people like Ray Bradbury and George Orwell have taught me that how we choose to entertain ourselves in time often becomes the only control we have left in this world until of course someone finds a way to steal that as well. There is a stubborn ogre inside of me that refuses to give up that control and my wife has declared all-out war on him. On the other hand, my wife’s many attempts to invite me into “her world” could be genuine. She may really think that watching “Scandal” with her might actually bring us closer. But whenever she asks me to I feel compelled to refuse. I guess I have commitment issues.
I wonder when television became such a determining factor in relationships. I wonder if the couples of old had these issues back when TV’s were black and white and we only had 3 channels to choose from. Would a man’s refusal to watch soap operas with his wife result in knock down drag out arguments about his reluctance to bond? I would ask my grandparents but they’re no longer around. I don’t think that my parents have this problem, but then again every time I travel to see them they are in separate rooms watching separate shows.
Maybe something went wrong when they came up with so many channels giving people the choice to find their own “identities” and “express” themselves freely. Didn’t Marshall McLuhan say that media is just an extension of the self? Who knew that extending ourselves would keep us from having sex with our spouses?
At times it seems that our conflicting sensibilities, mine stemming from education and her sales are often the reasons for the occasional marital spat. But ironically we share a common goal. We just want to be understood and appreciated, preferably by one another. In addition, we want the people in our lives to get us. But the realization that kicks me in the teeth is that her quest for self-affirmation comes with a fierce sales pitch that I could neither hope to understand nor execute. Her base of operations is a virtual sales floor; a social arrangement of pixelated personalities that all follow one golden rule: sell yourself via selfies, likes and comments.
I figured this out during one of our occasional arguments. She became annoyed with me because I failed to watch a You-Tube video clip of some dude singing. At first she accused me of “not ever wanting to share her world” And then told me that “everyone else” she sent it to were miraculously brought to their happy places after viewing it which, in my mind (and emotions) implied that my failure to do so just meant that I was incapable of happiness and that I was just plain mean. So my guess was that all of these “happy people” were probably passengers on her bus on its usual route to that magical destination where everyone there shares her likes, understands her and comments joyfully during the ride with affirming gestures reassuring her that she is not alone. I noticed her talents again in real time as she and her cousin watched an episode of “House of Lies” and flashing back to the first time she tried to convince me to watch that show, encouraging me that I would surely like it because it was a show that fit my personality. I wonder if she used the same sales pitch to convince her cousin who now watches it with the same enthusiasm as her. If so, it apparently worked. Over the years I have watched her convince friends and relatives alike of what shows to watch, restaurants to dine and music to listen to with impressive success. Her sales pitch is solid. Her biggest problem with me is that it seems to work with everyone else except me. But I’m not sure this is a good or a bad thing. On one hand, it feels good to be my own man with my own interests. Drinking from the same main stream as everyone else has always bothered me. That kind of conformity terrifies me because people like Ray Bradbury and George Orwell have taught me that how we choose to entertain ourselves in time often becomes the only control we have left in this world until of course someone finds a way to steal that as well. There is a stubborn ogre inside of me that refuses to give up that control and my wife has declared all-out war on him. On the other hand, my wife’s many attempts to invite me into “her world” could be genuine. She may really think that watching “Scandal” with her might actually bring us closer. But whenever she asks me to I feel compelled to refuse. I guess I have commitment issues.
I wonder when television became such a determining factor in relationships. I wonder if the couples of old had these issues back when TV’s were black and white and we only had 3 channels to choose from. Would a man’s refusal to watch soap operas with his wife result in knock down drag out arguments about his reluctance to bond? I would ask my grandparents but they’re no longer around. I don’t think that my parents have this problem, but then again every time I travel to see them they are in separate rooms watching separate shows.
Maybe something went wrong when they came up with so many channels giving people the choice to find their own “identities” and “express” themselves freely. Didn’t Marshall McLuhan say that media is just an extension of the self? Who knew that extending ourselves would keep us from having sex with our spouses?
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