david wrote some really interesting stuff about cards and his family and folk culture yesterday, and apart from the fun and educational richness contained in the act of someone i care about telling a story about something he cares about, it got me thinking about families and identity, a topic i’ve mused on a fair bit in the past but which has been popping up more and more in my mind lately.
without going into too much detail or engaging in more self-analysis than is really called for right now, let’s just say that i’ve been growing increasingly aware that i have something of a fixation with being a part of things that consider themselves to be unique. now, at some level i realize that this is human nature – we all like to think we’re special, after all – but i’m starting to think that i take it a bit more seriously than the average bear. it’s true that i have always marvelled at the lengths to which people will go to come up with stories that show how their lives make just *this* much more sense than the lives of those people over there, but i have simultaneously seen this as natural and not fully admitted the extent to which such desires exist in myself.
growing up i was repeatedly told both how special i was – unique in all the world! – and how special Everyone is – no one is better than anyone else! this is a worldview that makes sense intellectually, and i certainly understand the motivation to teach our children to have both confidence in themselves and respect for others, but i also sometimes think that this duality was a bit confusing for my little brain. it is assuredly much easier to teach children that they are special if you are also willing to teach them that some other people are not, and when you add to this the fact that my parents never quite agreed on practical matters like
for as long as i can remember, i have been captivated by the idea of underground movements.
i never join them in reality because i find them trivial.