It’s not that I don’t believe what you’re saying, it’s just that the word you’re using doesn’t mean what you think it means. You’re telling me with no sense of irony that this person is too nice, and that this is a reason not to not peruse a relationship or even friendship with them. What you seem to mean is that they bore you, lack assertiveness, lack the emotional experience to deal with your crazy moments, aren’t behaving in a manner considered cool, don’t dress in accordance with your particular sub-cultural preference, just don’t get it and they don’t make you perspire behind the knees with toe curling desire. I’m not blaming you for not liking this person, they are terrible after all, but I might be blaming you for thinking that the word applied here when it’s just misleading. Despite popular belief, none of these attributes have anything much to do at all with how nice a person is. You don’t look at someone and think, that person would totally drive me to the airport on their only day off in a fortnight, how repulsive.
I know the self proclaimed Nice don’t help much, with that not actually being nice thing. It seems their idea of nice is just as messed up as yours. Maybe they’ve been told they’re too nice and now they believe it, despite their fundamental lack of empathy or consideration for the hopes and feelings of others. That and their plain shitty outlook on life. I can see that if they’ve been told at some point that they’re too nice, it does seems a lot like an open invitation to become the most jaded asshole they always had the potential of becoming. We sure could do with a whole lot less of those people in this world. The worst are those who think the world has done wrong by them so they should act accordingly in retaliation.
I’d personally like everyone to be super cool to each other, help each other out in times of need with no immediate expectations, just the hope that putting good into the world will make it a cooler place to live. I’m thinking about teachers and all the awesome work they put in to help the next generation not imminently become criminals. The grocery store lady who lets me buy a pear when I’m 5c short and that friend in highschool who wouldn’t draw on your face when you passed out. While the world is largely, jaded these people are awesome and nice and I certainly wouldn’t want to make being nice to be any less desirable. In fact I’m going to put my hand up and say it. I want to make out with nice people, pretty much all the time. And can you imaging if our politicians were nice people with good intentions? Can you even imagine that shit?
JSM was just kind of on all the time so we watched it. It’s dated now and wasn’t intentional or important viewing then either, just an innocuous, light, forgettable carb to balance out a richer televisional meal in what now seem like the dark ages preceding reasonable video streaming. Specifics long forgotten, a single moment stuck with me. Wendie Malick commenting on a hope that the natural look would fall out of style as it took so much longer to achieve. Like the ball baring in a spray can, the thought of being natural having no greater or lesser value than being unnatural while proving harder to achieve, just kind of rattled around my head looking for a place to rest. Thinking about the greater divide between electronic and guitar based music scenes when I was younger reminded me of this moment. The stigma was palpable, electronic music wasn’t real music and you were either okay with that or you weren’t. It was a time when music wasn’t sold for it’s own merits but how it was an alternative, how it distanced itself from something else you were no longer allowed to be. There was this idea of authenticity attached to non-electronic music that paid no attention to the amount of effort and indeed electronics that go into making it sound natural. In reality the electric guitar is no more natural than a synthesizer, it’s just been around longer.
Here. Here’s a picture I hope represents who I want you to think I am. It’s me at my best. Or at least it’s me pretending not to be my worst. In truth it’s shallow and false and it’s all for you. But not the real you, just the you that I think I see when you’re just trying to show the best representation of you. And why wouldn’t you, when all you see is the best of me twice filtered through tried and tested algorithms that make extra sure it’s the best of me always looking back at you? How can we possibly compare, not only to others, but our own false image?
Where it once felt as though representation was pure, an expression of self untethered to the weight of the body we are suck with, now it feels heavier than any object that would not crush the marrow from these bones.