Since reading "The Mezzanine" I've found myself being more observant. I'm looking at things more closely, trying to understand them, how they work, why, who thought of them, my feelings toward them, or think of them in a new way. Channeling Howie, in a way I guess. Except, I'm not really Howie. Not at all. I don't think I could ever think like Howie.
Howie has this mind that just automatically analyzes everything he comes across. His mind is always working, always busy, always finding new and amazing things to think about. Howie doesn't take anything for granted, and because of that he doesn't overlook anything. That's my problem. I don't know if it's because I've been raised in an era of technology and technological advancement and so some things are not as fascinating to me as they might be to someone who, for example, didn't grow up with an iPod or cellphone or even a family computer, or if it's because I just don't have Howie's mind, but I overlook things. I see a glass of water, and I see a glass of water. That's it. I don't think about the specific design of this glass, the way it slightly curves and indents around the circumference, or how odd it is that the top is a circle, but the bottom is in the shape of a square and who would have such an idea for a design of a glass. My mind doesn't drift off into memories of how when I was a kid, I only used the plastic cups and dreamed of the days when I would be old enough to use the tall, clear, smooth glasses kept in the cupboard that was too high to reach, so that I would have to crawl up on the counter, and balance myself as I opened the cupboard door, and carefully, slowly, grabbed a glass and put it on the counter as I closed the door and lowered myself back onto the ground. No. Not at all.
I mean, these thoughts may cross my mind, but only for a brief second. I don't pursue them. I ignore them. It's a passing thought, nothing more. And yet, to Howie, every thought is important and has meaning. There's no such thing as a "passing thought."He would probably be appalled at the fact that I'm letting these thoughts slide, and would probably go off ranting in a footnote about how each thought is a grain of sand in the beach of your mind, or something like that.
Ah. There's the reason I can never think or write like Howie. I don't like footnotes.
1 comment:
Although you say you don't do any of this habitually, even in your examples here of how you *don't* think this way, you do a pretty nice job of defamiliarizing a glass of water and tracing your impressions back to kid-memory. And all technology is time-bound--I recall the time when a Walkman seemed like the height of modern innovation, and now we could dissect one with almost archaeological interest it would seem so ancient. But seriously, it's hard to imagine maintaining a level of indiscriminate attentiveness like Howie maintains all the time. It's an important function of a responsible adult mind that we can direct our focus where it needs to be and *not* be constantly distracted by details. Howie probably wouldn't be the most efficient employee--he *admires* the work of designers who get things done and make things, but he's unlikely to ever be one of these guys himself!
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