Tissue Nose

After getting incredibly excited for coming back home to California for thanksgiving break, I'm greeted by a flu. I'm usually very happy to entertain old acquaintances, but this particular one seemed to have barged in uninvited and at an inconvient time. With only 2 more days of break left, I have an extremely bad case of tissue nose. "It's such a strange phenomena," I thought to myself, as I tore open yet another box of kleenex, "It's like a medal to be wore at the center of your head that cries out, 'I've conquered,' or in worse cases, 'I've been conquered,' or perhaps the worsest of the worst scenarios, 'I've conquered for myself.'"

I always expected places and things to be slightly different upon my re-arrival. Usually, this has been a good attitude, especially for things like an entire city. What takes me most by surprise however, is that things have been almost exactly the way I left them: the lizard that hangs out on the rock right outside my window, the drivers that almost kill you as they rapidly cross over 4 lanes at a time, my graduation gown that hangs on the coat rack on the side of my room. I feel like I've been teleported back almost half a year!

So I've Heard...

"So I've heard..." This phrase is perhaps the ultimate life-saver. Attach it to the end of any snoody comment and you protect yourself from foolishly misquoting or looking like a total jerk. Imagine with me dear reader: you find yourself at a wine tasting event when a middle age woman stands next to you. She looks over at your glass and says to you, "What type of casking was that merlot set in?" You reply, "Well-aged oak with a hint of coriander." You see a strange expression on her face slowly develop, but before she has a chance to reply, you raise your left eyebrow and qualify your statement: "Or so I've heard..."

The tension's broken, confusion sets in, and before she has a chance to call your bluff you excuse yourself to the bathroom in hopes of never seeing her again. Whether male or female, there's always a funny tension that occurs when you're asked a question. Immediately, it is associated as a type of challenge. You're put on the spot and you've only been given X-amount of time to answer. How you reply will somehow craft your reputation and consequently, how others will percieve you. Quick! Use "so I've heard..."!

As the questions get closer and closer to the core of who you are, however, there's always a baffling pause. Should you tell them the truth? Do you know yourself well enough to give an answer that accurately reflects who you are? Or do you quickly turn to other's attention towards some inflammatory subject: "Someone said abortion is murder!" "Gay-marraige! Tell me your opinions and/or grievances!"

I've been slowly work through The Brothers Karamozov for the past 3 months. In my opinion, what makes this read so worthwhile is that it always addresses this tension of identity. How well do you actually know yourself? Do you know yourself well enough to know what you want to hide about yourself? Have you been hiding things for so long that it's pure routine? Whatever the case, there's always a temptation to use "so I've heard..." in any conversation, whether its at an escargot dinner party, a wine tasting event, a sour date, etc. Its versatility is deadly, making it effective in the beginning of a clause viz. "So I've heard that...." or at the end (as demonstrated earlier).