Reflections: Social misfits and the golden rule

You know the golden rule -- treat others as you would have them treat you. Well, you know, I abide by it, but it doesn't work, because I am a social misfit. So the rule should really be "treat others as you would have them treat you, until they ask you otherwise".

I learned recently that because of my social misfitship, I have been pissing a friend of mine off unwittingly. Said friend sent me an email saying that my behaviour was insensitive to them, inconsiderate to their significant other, and left a sour taste. Moreover he pointed out (which of course, being a social misfit, I didn't recognise) that my behaviour was also unusual. Of course, being a social misfit, but not unkind, I was upset and horrified to have been upsetting said friend. I was glad the issue was addressed in email, because it gave me time to react without the reaction being witnessed; I don't deal well when my emotions are on display. I wrote back saying I had not realised my behaviour was upsetting, and I would, of course, cease and desist. There was another brief email exchange where the friend said thanks, and I explained that my intent had not been malicious, and that had things been the other way around the behaviour would not have bothered me, because my view of things was different (and that I hadn't realised how unusual it was until it was pointed out to me). At that point said friend responded that I was not a social misfit, just different.

See, the thing is, it's too late. I have been reminded once again that I am a social misfit, in an angry tone, and in words that made me out to be the whole problem (as opposed to perhaps "I am uncomfortable when" instead of "you are insensitive and inconsiderate"). I'm feeling bad about all the incidences of the behaviour that have gone before. I don't want to see the friend anymore because I am scared I will slip. And I am hurt, because it was made all about how bad my behaviour was. And I am upset, because often, when I ask to be treated differently, my requests are regarded as unreasonable.

The upshot of all this? I'm hurting, the friend has everything they could hope for out of the situation, and I am probably an idiot for rolling again. And the golden rule, it only works when your friends are very like you. If you have friends who are social misfits, be kind to them when you ask that they change their behaviour. After all, they are your friends, and they are, like me, probably not being deliberately malicious.

Letter to Antonio

Antonio probably never knew how much of a difference he made -- hell, I never knew until he died -- but he made a huge difference to my life. He died suddenly and I never got the chance to say goodbye, and even though I only got to Scotts once a week at most, I still miss him.

Here is what I would say if he were here to hear it (and being Italian and therefore maybe Catholic, I can but hope he is reading this from somewhere):

Dear Antonio,

You probably didn't even know my name, you always addressed me as Bella (which, by the way, was very flattering), but I wanted to thank you for the difference you made in my life. By being unfailingly cheerful and polite, and most of all warm, you always cheered me up. You remembered Mike and I, and you always knew what we would order. You always made sure we were looked after. "Ciao Bella, what you want?" is not a call that will easily echo its last in my mind. It's going to take some time to feel completely at home at Scotts again, and not feel sad. We won't stop going though -- that would be a dishonour to your memory.

And it was not just our lives you touched -- I wish you could see Scotts since your death -- it is full of flowers, and your picture is on the door -- three times. Your special blend of professionalism and informality will not be easily forgotten (did you know Italian greetings are de rigueur at Scotts for all staff? I'm sure you did but I didn't until I read your obituary in the Waikato Times). People loved you, Antonio, and though we did not know you outside Scotts, we loved you. We cannot imagine how hard it must be for your nearest and dearest.

I wish I had known your funeral was to be a public affair -- I would have liked a chance to pay my last respects to you, to the Scotts team, and to your family. I would have liked the chance to cry for you -- I have come very close many times. Most of all I would have liked the chance to say goodbye. Unfortunately, I did not know I would have been welcome (knowing your nature I should have known), so I did not go along. So instead, I send this letter out into cyberspace, hoping you can read it whereever you are, and know that you made my life better, and that if I could I would give you another hug (like at Christmas time). You were an amazing, special man, Antonio, and I, a mere customer, feel your loss keenly.

With love, and rest in peace
Dana

A much belated tribute to the first true leader of NZ

It is a week now since David Lange died in hospital, leaving behind five children, and a couple of wives (well a wife and an ex-wife). The whole thing made me inexplicably and immediately very sad; I have been busy and only just really had time to think on why I have been so sad about it.

I think there are two reasons, the first of them personal, the second...patriotic, I guess. And this coming from a person who has never had a patriotic sentiment in their stunted life.

The personal reason why I'm feeling deeply sad about the death of a man who I never personally had anything to do with (and who appears to have run off with his speech writer later in life) is that he was, for me, a childhood prime minister. He came to power in 1984, the first year I can remember as having had a number, and stayed in power until I was near the end of primary school, in 1989. So, like all things from one's childhood for me he feels like the "real" prime minister, despite the fact I am about to vote in my third general election (and I don't think I have voted for the person who got in even once).

The patriotic reason is much more simple, though. There is no doubt that Lange was an impressive orator, and an extremely intelligent man. He was also a man of much personal inspiration and responsibility; he put himself through law school by working at the freezing works because his dad was a GP in a poor area and didn't charge people enough to pay for his son's education (funny how you learn a lot about the people who have made history around the time of their death).

None of this, however, would have made him a great or important prime minister, or someone to inspire patriotism. What does make him important and patriotism inspiring, however, is the fact that he dragged NZ kicking and screaming into a sense if independent nationhood. There are elements in today's society who will disagree with me and say that (for whatever reason) Lange did not do anything like enough... I don't want to touch this issue with a barge pole.

NZ, from colonization until the end of WWII was largely a colony of the British Empire, going where Britain went and referring to England as "home" -- even those who had never been there. After WWII, we developed a not dissimilar relationship with the US, as evidenced by our involvement in the SE Asian wars. Lange was the person to break this tie, and he did it in a way I feel we can all be proud of as NZers -- he said no to nuclear weaponry, and he put this naysay into legislation. This set NZ apart from the US, and has resulted in a certain amount of punitive ostracism from trade agreements and such. It also resulted in an act of war by the French government, which was dealt with diplomatically. In this single act, Lange enabled us as a nation to have something important to stand for, and gave us a choice in things like whether to get involved in the most recent Iraq conflict (and, quietly, thank goodness we didn't; the idea of terrorists blowing up Auckland just sends my fear about the cost of infrastructure in a small country like this reeling).

Interestingly enough, two days after Lange died we went on our first training exercise with the US military since the nuclear ban came in. Interestingly enough, the National party is promising to "review" our nuclear free status should they be elected this year.

Farewell, David Lange, and thankyou, whereever you are, for giving me something to be proud of as a NZer. Thankyou for giving NZ a choice. And thankyou, perhaps, for deciding who I will not vote for in this election (a question that has been vexing me greatly for some time).

Why I'm here

I always wanted somewhere to put my random rants and raves, and this is a mcuh better place to leave them than the ears of my friends. I mean, I can only tell them how awesome the new Placebo CD is so many times, and my political views tend to be too random for anyone else to follow.... (an example of an earlier rant copied from another blog can be found here).

The real reason I have this blog, though, is so that I could have a private account on the blog I created for the colleagues of mine to communicate with our former supervisor (who has just left for Wales). To have a private account I needed a blogger account, and to have a blogger account I needed my own blog. The rest, as they say, is history. I have joined the noisy masses who have reserved themselves space to publish every random thought that crosses their mind.