When I was a kid (long before there was such a thing as camcorders, VCRs and DVDs) I remember my Dad would whip out his handheld 8mm-film silent movie camera whenever there was a special occasion ripe for the family archives - birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, vacations, whatever. Usually, he’d have to attach what I called the “landing strip” of spotlights on top of the camera in order to blind everybody - I mean, in order to illuminate the scenery. Snapshots being liberally taken as well, we were a camera crazy family - documenting everything.
After the movie film was developed, Dad would load it into the clanking film projector. Then he’d set up the portable movie screen (about five feet square, which you would set up like a tripod, and then pull up the screen like an upside down window shade). Mom, my older brothers and sisters, and I would set up the dining room chairs like a row of theater seats. Off went the lights, on went the projector, and there in our living room on our mini silver screen flickered a replay of our lives. Birthday candles being blown out... Christmas gifts being ripped open... processions being passed by... various delectable desserts being consumed. Smiles and laughter and tears and surprises... and conversations. Lots and lots of conversations conflicting in a chaotic cacophony. But all occurring in silence.
Sometimes, while watching our lives pass before our eyes, we’d try to recreate the conversations from that recorded event. Re-singing the “Happy Birthday” part was easy. But the other conversations were lost in memory, so we’d make up the things the people on the screen were saying… putting different words in people’s mouths… projecting imaginary thoughts onto the screen just like the moving images from the roll of film. It was all in good fun. And it was a long time ago.
How often do we, in our daily lives project our inner thoughts - imaginary conversations, or false assumptions – onto others in our daily lives?
Case in point: The other day I was driving to work, minding my own business. I’m driving along the highway, up a long, steep hill. My windshield was dirty. Smart thing to do when your windshield is dirty? Turn on the wipers and spray some windshield cleaning fluid. Ahhhh... now I can see.
Next thing I know, this guy in a silver sports car zooms pass me on my right, then cuts in front of me. No big deal. This is typical fare on California highways. He then beings to clean his own windshield. I happen to get some of his cleaning fluid on my windshield. Great! (I think) I can continue cleaning my own windshield with his own fluid. But this guy continues to spray his windshield fluid… for a long time… and looooooong time. Then the passenger of the vehicle rolls down his window, sticks his arm out, and flips me the bird.
What the f***?
So, here’s this guy who happened to be behind me when I was innocently cleaning my windshield. He apparently got pissed off because he thought that I was purposely spraying his car in the process. He then goes out of his way to speed past me, and proceeds to “return the favor”. And then he promptly has his colleague request in that all-to-familiar hand gesture that I attempt to have sexual intercourse with myself (something I don’t think is anatomically possible). Talk about getting up on the wrong side of the bed. Talk about... projection.
And we all do this, in some form or fashion. We make assumptions. I can hear my high school physics teacher now: “Never assume! Because when you ‘assume’ you make an ASS out of U and ME.” (Ugh... the things that your remember from your school days.)
Someone does or says something. We get bent all out of shape. We go home. We toss and turn in bed replaying the event over and over again. We construct and deconstruct and reconstruct conversations, arguments to rectify the situation. We get up the next day. We meet up with the offender to set him straight... and... we find out it was all an innocent misunderstanding. You were so far off base on your assumptions.
Or we make an assumption about someone’s personality without really knowing the person. Another case in point: A couple weeks ago I happened across a neighbor of a friend of mine. I’d met her casually a few times in the past. Seemed like a nice enough person. Somewhat attractive. Successful career. Appeared intelligent. She was sitting in her car outside a Laundromat, reading a book while her laundry was in the dryer. I say hello. I ask what she’s reading. She proceeds to tell me about all these crazy conspiracy theories about the current political administration. Apparently, this book paints Bush, Cheney, Rove, etc… as the devil’s spawn. She believes this stuff. I mean literally believes this stuff.
Okay. Bad enough she drinks what I call the “Michael Moore Kool-Aid.” She then apologies for her stuffed up sinuses because her allergies have kicked into overdrive, and she doesn’t want to take any allergy medication because she’s pregnant and she doesn’t want to harm her baby in any way. Seemed smart, right? The very next sentence out of her mouth was how “awesome” her most recent batch of “special brownies” was. She made “special cookies” too.
Did I tell you that she’s an RN?... a Registered Nurse?... I mean...
WHAT THE F***???
I made the wrong assumption about this woman. The guy in the sports car made the wrong assumption about me. All without any of us ever really knowing each other. We projected what we thought onto the screen of our lives, rather than first allowing ourselves to really get to know each other.
In looking back over the previous posts in this blog, I think it’s safe to say that that woman I sent several messages to probably made a number of assumptions about me without ever really wanting to get to know me. And I (I’m sure) made a number of assumptions about her from what little information I could glean from the small amount of text on her page and her few pictures.
And you (whoever you are), who at this very moment is reading this blog, have made various assumptions about me through the course of chewing through these posts. Some of it may be accurate. But some of it may not be. We’d all be wise to remember the words of my high school physics teacher.
Where am I going with all of this? I have no idea. A seed of an idea was in the back of my brain. I let it grow a bit. It bore some fruit. Then I served it on the page. Just some food for thought, I guess.
Next up... Chapter 9 Lives Ain’t Just For Felines
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