Formal Letter of Introduction

To Whom It May Concern:

Yesterday, I received an e-mail from one [Turtle], to the effect that I should make myself known to you. To whit (excerpted from a larger document):

"I've met the most interesting little chick here. I've decided that you and Valancy need to contact her via email- [address exempted].uk- because she doesn't have any Virgo friends (except me) and she is one and I said she could borrow some of mine. She and I connected almost instantly upon meeting. She is planning on studying Middle Eastern history because she feels a real connection with anything from there. She is reading the Koran. She likes to belly dance and flaminco. She's scared of sharks and is completely Earth. (reminds me of Valancy on those last two points)"

As I imagine you have inferred from the above paragraph, I am one of the "virgo friends" you have been permitted to borrow. I am not, however, Valancy, as you may have intuited from both my e-mail address and the unusual potentiality of someone referring to me in the third person when speaking in a second-person situation, (although this does happen from time to time and is mildly less unnerving than people talking about me in second person when I am not present).

I am very cold at this time, because my parents' house in Boston is not properly heated. It is quite old, at least for America. I mention this because my hands freeze every two sentences, and I must put them into my pockets. This creates a stop-and-go style of authorship which lends itself to overanalysis.

My friend Jamie arrives in a few hours, and I must leave soon to get him at the airport. I make note of this not because I expect you to know who Jamie is, but because it is on my mind. I have not seen him in at least six months, nor lived near him for more than a year prior to that. When we lived in the same city, we were members of the same comedy troupe. We also participated in a postmodern production of Julius Caesar: he was Brutus; I was Casca and a number of bit parts. We habitually stayed up all night, talking and painting and writing plays. He often found mine highly frustrating, because he (like many people) has trouble with absurdism.

I have trouble with anything else.

I am, of course, exaggerating for dramatic effect.

I know Turtle through the aforementioned Valancy. The two of them attended the same college, and lived down the hall from each other. I am told that when I first met Turtle, two or three years ago, she flashed me. I cannot remember this, although I suspect it is true; for the most part, I remember that her walls were covered with advertisements for Volkswagon's New Beetle.

Obsessions, I find, are very humanizing.

That seems to be the phrase of the week. I almost inevitably have them -- not because I am repeditive, (although I am,) but because of the flavors of time. I cannot tell whether this phrase is an improvement over the phrase of a few weeks ago, "opportunity cost and the freedom of working within constraints." Of course, I have always had difficulty distinguishing between advantages and disadvantages.

I don't really know how to make myself human to you, beyond the understanding that Turtle will vouch for me. She does that a lot.

As you are an impartial observer, you may be better able to answer the following question than most: if I decide to join the circus, will I be better off working the freakshow or caring for the animals?

Yours at least temporarily,
Romie

Forever Yellow Skies

I just finished watching "Wonder Boys" for the first time, and it strikes me as a very dangerous movie that I should avoid seeing again. This should not be taken to mean that I did not enjoy it -- quite the contrary. The trouble stems from my reaction to absorbing movies or books: I become more absorbed than the average person.

It isn't escapism so much as a skewed brand of empathy. It shows up most readily when a foreign accent is present; after listening to it for more than a few minutes, I sound like a native speaker. It can, however, go further than that -- bleed into body language, expression, thought patterns. I turn into the character, for better or for worse.

I don't think anyone wants me to turn into Tobey Maguire's character more often than strictly neccessary.

Today has been surreal enough as it is. Arielle has recently dyed her hair black, and her clothing style has taken a strong turn for the gothic. The upshot is that she looks very much like Raine; she even moves like her. Raine crossed with me. It's less unnerving to me than one might expect -- and that is unnerving, or ought to be.

Ariel, Arielle's live-in friend and my official fan club, is perpetually astounded by the extent to which we can mimic one another. Other friends comment on it too, our ability to dance so synchronously that it seems choreographed, without even the need to look at one another.

What few people seem to notice is my tendency to mirror the dominant personality in any setting. It's a clever bit of social engineering; it sets people at their ease and establishes me as a similarly dominant presence. Only Patrick has noted my ability to use dramatic lighting, to insure that I'm backlit for any important battle. I don't even do it consciously; it took me years of psychology textbooks to figure out how I always managed to get control of unfamiliar situations.

When I was visiting Kristina in Rhode Island, I read her "Theory of Personality" texts, to look for things I didn't already know. I was disappointed; they read for the most part like Intro books, although the discussion of Freud was more enlightened than most.

I did enjoy the section on the MMPI (the Minnesota? Multiphasic Personality Inventory); one of the most widely-used personality tests, it enjoys especial standing as a reliable indicator of most mental problems. I have, as yet, avoided taking it myself, because if it told me I was crazy I would become crazy.

It's not a test you can cheat, because the questions are unpredictable. Take, for example, the following true-or-false statement: "I prefer a shower to a bath." Prefering the shower is the empathic response. No one knows why; it is simply statistically accurate. Perhaps it is because baths are solitary, whereas showers are taken for speed -- to get the bather back to human contact as quickly as possible. Perhaps it stems from a desire for physical contact instead of floating seperation. Does it still apply to people who take long showers and conversational baths?

I had dinner in the bath a few weeks ago. Val sat on the sink counter. We ate eggplant, stuffed with basil, black beans, and tomato. Mozzarella cheese, in her case. A spinach salad on the side, I believe with gold raisins and pears.

Two other terms, which I had forgotten:

1. False consensus effect -- the tendency of people to see their own behavior as more common than it actually is.

2. "Transparent self" -- "To the extent that you exhibit any kind of psychological facade and that there are large discrepancies between the person 'inside' and the person you display 'outside' you are likely to experience excessive isolation from the people around you, which can lead to unhappiness, hostility, and depression."

The third concept which has been knocking around in my head comes not from a psychology textbook, but from my sensai, Dr. Harkins. It is called the "primary affinity."

In effect, people are not the same. Each person has his strengths, his weaknesses. Some are heart people, some head, some stomach. Everyone is better at some things, and worse at others. Traditional wisdom attempts to train the things at which the individual is lacking.

The primary affinity suggests another option. Find the virtue at which you are best, and strive to become better at it than anyone in the world. The others will follow, because virtues are tied together. It is difficult to be virtuous in one are and not in others just as it is impossible to improve ability at one sport without peripherally improving skill at other sports; if you have more muscle, you have more muscle regardless of the setting.

I am patently unable to discover my primary affinity, perhaps because of my affection for "Romie Contradictions." As a Taoist, I take the middle path, and both extremes seem similar. Perhaps my primary affinity is comprehensiveness, but I am uncertain that this is a virtue.

When Jamie asked me about the appropriate size for carry-on luggage earlier today, I expressed disbelief that he was bringing more than a book. "Unlike you," he said, smiling into the phone, "I wear different clothes every day."

Actually, I changed my undershirt on Friday, although I will admit it has also been that long since I've washed my hair. These things really don't seem unusual to me at the time.