"The Other" – A reflection on reading habits.

I write in my books. A lot. Like, I'm pretty sure I take substantially longer than the average person to read anything because I am constantly stopping to mark in the books. I've justified this practice in the past with explanations like how it will be helpful when I am studying or possibly needing/wanting this information later, or how it helps me to remember/process what I am reading. This makes sense right? If you mark something, you will be able to find it later, you will be able to remember it. Sensible choice. But just now in my reading for class I boxed the name "Carl Rogers" in a text book and drew a heart next to it. That's right, a heart – like we all did (don't deny it) in middle school around the names of the people we had a crushes on. Now, I know who Carl Rogers is. The book did not say anything particularly enlightening about old Carl, and I can think of no reason that I should ever need to return to that point in my book and re-read it. The fact of the matter is that I just love him, I love Carl --- but the question is why does this compel me to create adolescent book graffiti?

This has been my reading-break reflection for the past few minutes. What is the meaning of my scribbling? Why do I feel the need to underline/note/create murals around my reading materials so (most people would say) excessively?? When looking through a book I was moderately engaged with you will find an overwhelming number of asterisks, boxes, "Amen!"s; "what the crap?!?"s; question marks and the like throughout.

Staring at the heart I have just written, which cannot possibly have an academic goal connected to it, I think I have come to understand on a deeper level why I continue this strange practice. It goes back to that personal particularity that has kept me blogging despite inner battling about it's value: my absurdly extroverted nature. I basically cannot spend a moment that is not relational. In theatre we call whomever it is that you are acting opposite your "other." Drama theory posits that on stage you always have an other, regardless of whether you are alone or with someone; speaking or silent, you are always relating on a metaphysical level. I'm not sure if this is true for everyone, but this definitely made sense of my life. I literally have conversations going on with "others" in my head constantly (I know, I know, there is probably a DSM category for people like me, but luckily I put myself firmly in the anti-diagnosis boat). It is not abnormal for me to be brushing my teeth, or washing my hands in a private or public bathroom and spontaneously start talking. Mind you, I am not talking to myself, as most might assume, I am talking to my other. In this vein, I am one of those annoying people who talks back to movies (sometimes in simple breath vocals, and small movements, but other times in more overt, sometimes loud, speech, "What are you doing?!? Stop! No!" I was made acutely aware of this recently, sitting with two male friends watching "Avatar," them completely still and silent, me writhing in my seat, alternately gasping and covering my mouth, and looking back and forth at them to see if they were seeing what I was seeing). Even though I conceptually acknowledge that I cannot effect the characters or the story line, my heart tells me that they are relating to me, and I must respond.

And there is the rub my friends. I write in my books because I have the real sense when reading that someone is communicating with me, and I need to talk back. I cannot simply sit by as a docile observer to words I am taking in. I see the world not in information, but in relationship.

So there is a little insight for you today into the madness of the Savage mind. I would say it is blessing to any roommate (and especially any possible, future husband-roommate) that I have learned to get many of my relational needs met on my own. I mean, just imagine if I actually had to get all of this extrovertedness out to someone... I'd probably blog a lot more.

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And now, for a couple of wonderful updates:

Graduate School Chapel – I decided to talk with the coordinator of our chapel services about my disappointment with the chapel for Haiti and wish that we could express grief and anger communally. After a good talk about it he opened up his computer and pulled up the schedule for the upcoming chapel. It was a special service for Holocaust Remembrance day, and next to the reading of Lamentations he had noted "Emily Savage." "I was just going to ask you if you'd be up for this reading? It's a bit dark though." "Yes. Yes yes yes." Isn't life beautiful sometimes?

Rina – I talked to Rina last week (after much anxious avoidance on my part) and found out that for the first time since I left Bangladesh she and her mother have jobs. I cannot express my relief and thankfulness. For a while longer at least, they will continue to be able to feed their children. We had a good conversation (with her reminding me once again that I needed to have children and move back to Bangladesh), but it ended in a hilarious attempt by her husband to give me their address. If you have ever worked a job where you had to get important information over the phone (think spelling names "no that's p as in Peter, not d"), perhaps you can imagine for a moment that you are trying to spell something over the phone, in a language that is not native to you, and that it MUST be exact. This practice in not recommended for the weak-in-patience.