Drafting an Intelligent Response

Salutations earthlings. Warm spring drizzle is blanketing my corner of the world and adding a new dimension to the surreal. Important events still have not occurred but are spoken of frequently, in the half-assed hope of bringing them closer into existence through reference.

Speaking of the future is drafting an object in the imagination. Did you ever take drafting in junior high school, as part of the wonderful oddity called 'Home Economics'? Draft, sew, cook, work with metal and wood. I wonder if it's still a mandatory glob of useful skills thrust upon teens, or if it's been broken down to sub-modules on demand. Ah, the kids. I fear they're presented with too much specificity and not enough mystery.

Back to drafting. Drawing 3D is a major shift for kiddies adept at outlining unidimensional horses and Garfields and rockets. It breaks a straight-on perspective that we accept as reality, aka what we see.

When we look at something, we don't see underneath and behind simultaneously, correct? A child could assume objects are composed of shifting flat planes that click into our field of vision through movement, and which exist only as we see them. Drafting, however, connects the planes as visible proof that they co-exist, despite what we see or don't see. It makes a gawky 13-year old philosophical without knowing it.

I was good at drafting, if too slow to get an outstanding grade. I'd get bogged down in how the lines connected, get dreamy. Not much has changed in 24 years, in that regard. I still get caught up in the idea of looking behind and underneath. What does it mean, and why am I looking?

Although it is not, benign curiosity can feel like a curse. I have to chronically remind myself that discoveries are just as often stumbled upon as found. Best to keep my eyes open, despite a lack of focus. Once they focus, then the conversation can begin in earnest.

Author and journalist James Howard Kunstler recently was the opening speaker at an (un)conference, one of these grand "deSIgN shall s@ve the world" events that incubate faith that yes, we can do it. He spoke of the distinction between intelligent response versus a solution.

My understanding of what he said goes like this: when solutions are spoken of, it's in the context of perpetuating an untenable present. How can we keep going as we are, even as we know this reality is unsustainable and even undesirable? He gives the example of proposing electric cars as the alternative to traditional automobiles, because the idea of having to re-shape the whole way we live and work and interact is overwhelming.

Solutions are clever compromises, a bargaining tactic we use to avoid meaningful change. Solutions are ways we play tricks on ourselves. Intelligent responses, on the other hand, are ways to engage in answers or tactics that address not only a question, but the underlying psychology that underpins it. Here is a problem; now let us look underneath and behind it and to the side, and talk about all that, and what the structure can realistically and positively support as a "solution".

So using his example: it's not yippee, everyone just needs to drive a Prius and we'll be fine. It's more like hmmm, is it sane or feasible to center our lives around roads and parking garages and gas stations? Do we fear a loss of convenience, an examination of what we value as freedom? Are worries about uncertainty and risk and social engineering justified, or automatic responses to our current way of life being challenged? Are we, in short, finding clever excuses for the insularity of a single dimension?

I write about this because I'm equally fascinated with Big Ideas and little pathologies. On the surface, we're all solid ground. Looks good, let's build our solution here. But wait. Underneath is where we see the true load-bearing capacities. Here may be rabbit warrens and ant colonies and worm holes and organic matter, all of which could subside and threaten the integrity of whatever we build superficially. If we recognize they exist, we can move our site to bedrock or dig through it. Best to know, though. Collapse may be spectacular for onlookers, but is only devastating to occupants.

Believe it or not, these esoteric musings help me make sense of daily life. In my last posting, I was ready to reject a recent person of interest based on what I perceived was a lack of sexual interest in me. I made caustic reference to the ex-Date, who'd drifted into silence. These seem like logical, or at least understandable, responses. Protective measures. Refreshingly, I find I'm not so fragile after all these days. Either my sense of self has improved or I'm tired of erecting defenses, or maybe I'm not taking things as personally as I used to.

I was suspicious of the new guy's sweetness, of his expressing how much he liked me. What was wrong with this person that he liked me so much? Why was he so nervous about pleasing me? The more I get to know him, the easier it is for me to accept that he just does like me, and is working through his own pathologies and defensive measures. Okay.

I've also concluded that it's not my job to protect him from me. I've been frank about leaving town in a few months to study several thousand kilometers away, and I refuse to speculate on what I'll be doing during or after my studies. I've been open about a lack of interest in a long-distance relationship. This could change, or not.

In the meantime, I'm getting more comfortable with enjoying myself and being enjoyed in the present. This weekend, he surprised me with a great bottle of bourbon. He bought me breakfast, refinished my French doors, and got me using a radial sander. It's nice.

As for the ex-Date, after a few weeks of silence I sent him a courteous email wishing him the best. He wrote back apologizing for the absence of communication, which he called juvenile on his part, but confirming that he'd felt we were drifting apart. He linked a change in his residence with moving on in the emotional sense, and wished me the best back.

I thanked him for the resolution, and so we end on a grace note rather than a sour one. I regained enough respect for him to feel good about having once been interested in him. My interest in him was marginal, and mainly sexual in nature. I was seeking a distraction from a larger hurt. That's neither good nor bad, just the truth, and it's part of the ongoing conversation with myself to accept that love is not an all-or-nothing venture. Not one dimension, not three, but an exploration of various planes and intersection and angles that can't be contained by the size of a sheet of paper or a deadline. Maddening, uncertain, exciting, continuous.

With that, I go back to work, which today consists of learning more about software design programs and spreadsheeting applications. I'm trying to find the joyful mystery in it...

Gawky 36.9 year old Gretchen signing off-