From: llama@tramp.cc.utexas.edu (sine nomine)
Newsgroups: alt.angst
Subject: control freaks
Date: 20 Dec 92 22:19:04 GMT
X-Newsreader: Tin 1.1 PL5


how do you write about control without getting stuck in a morass of
self-reference? the act of writing, especially for me, is an exercise
in control, of control. all these abstract thoughts float around until
i snatch them from the air, put them in order, align them in rows on a
screen. then they're *mine*. i own them. are all writers the same?

people have been talking about personal angst versus universal angst
as if the two concepts had no overlap at all, as if one were somehow
"purer" than the other. i think looking at control issues is a way to
reconcile the two.  the debate on here seems to ignore that both are
rooted in the same feelings of alienation and fear, of anxiety at
living in a world beyond control, beyond comprehension. the metaphor
of rules comes up a lot here, interestingly. as humans, in the face of
what looks like noise, we try to find ways to *make* things make sense,
to see a gestalt in what looks like random chaos.

the lack of any objective reality throws us off-balance. even if an
absolute exists, the myriad filters that stand between us and it make
approaching it in a meaningful way impossible. we have no way to tell
if what we think we see really exists and no real way to be sure how
much those perceptions are distorted by the glass of individual
belief, predilection, desire. we mutate situations until they resemble
what we want to see and read our own meanings into the words and
actions of those around us.  but eventually we find ourselves at
decision-points and fervently hope our data is accurate and when it
isn't we fall down again, then get up and circle warily around
reality; it's become an adversary and, in a strange way, a rival.

so we live our lives as attempts to impose control and order on a
world that won't give up any. our lives are a search for edges; we
want boundaries and handles. if we can figure out where we stop and
reality starts, we'll have a lever with which we can move at least our
part of the world. finding boundaries gives us the power to expand or
contract them at will. rules, hierarchies, governments -- all these
artificial layers of definition give us edges we can rearrange. and as
we play with them, we can forget about the basic wildness and chaos
that surrounds us. most people engross themselves in the game and
devote lifetimes to piling up counters, fiddling with obscure
regulations, or making up good reasons why they're not succeeding.
it's a pleasant distraction, and who's to say it's not a superior way
of life? they get rewards pleasing to them, live with a sense of
purpose and die with a sense of accomplishment.

people who see beyond the surface aren't so lucky. rejecting
conventional notions of boundaries leaves one wondering who does have
control of reality, which leads to the problem at the core of angst:
no evidence exists that anyone does.  all the interactions of all the
people who've ever existed have created this chemical reaction and
we're all helpless as we watch it proceed to equilibrium. and people
keep throwing new things into the mix and trying to change the lab
conditions, but it's just inexorably going onward and no one knows if
we'll have a miracle potion or a high explosive when it's done. but
it's not the uncertainty that tears at our souls, it's the drifting
helplessness and the realization that all we can do is wait.

so the reconciliation between personal and universal angst. the
personal is merely a reflection of the global. the situation-specific
fear and pain and anxiety expressed here so often are merely
reports of individual battles in a larger war.

--
sine | deb
or we're all just insane.