i appreciate your face
Jun. 18th, 2010 08:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bitchy_merlinTHIS POST MAKES ME CRY INSIDE. (Also, as a testament to how I deal with negative things, I almost couldn't bring myself to read all the way through it. I persevered, however.)
I feel like I kind of see where the article is coming from, in terms of not wanting young kids to form behavioural schemas oriented around a very specific individual, for fear that it might lead to maladaptive attachment styles. On the other hand, I am overwhelmed by the wave of revulsion and DO NOT WANT that this article engenders in me, because what's that, Michelle, we're going on how many years now? I'm pretty comfortable saying that I'm the product of a "best friendship", so I'm definitely biased in that respect. I must say, though, that I do agree with the point mentioned in the article about how if we place too much value on one aspect of our lives, and that aspect goes to shit, the emotional repercussions are pretty severe.
However.
I think a good, reliable best friend is one of the best things any child can have. You can't simulate that friendship; it either happens or it doesn't. A best friend is the one you can tell all your secrets/hopes/dreams to, and you know those things will be respected. Oscar Wilde said: "Give a man a mask and he will tell you the truth". Talking to a best friend is like having that mask, only better, because the mask knows you and loves you and offers you emotional support. (Also, the mask will stan with you, get drunk with you, and laugh at cray-cray things like Jack Harkness's exploding penis with you. The mask may have a tendency to blurt out things like "Stephaaaaaaaaaaaane, get in me nao", but this is normal and is what makes your mask unique*.)
So, I went off to university, and it was good - even great - but it also got really fucking lonely sometimes. Times like these are where best friends come in, because even if you can't actually call the person, sobbing, and wail "I miss you; life is stressful"... sometimes, you don't have to. During any of the more FML-moments of my life, in Toronto, Kingston, wherever, there was always this core of knowledge that "it's ok, whatever happens, you have best friends who are as neurotic and flaily, and as into gay fictional characters as you, and who will stan with you no matter what". So, BFFs = social support network = +1 emotional well-being.
And even when you think about the types of things you tell your best friends, would you tell them to someone you only knew half as well? Someone you'd met, briefly, as an acquaintance? If everyone's core social support network were as vast as the article is proposing, would anyone ever be able to tell secrets? Yes, probably, if that someone were a) very brave and/or b) very naive. But for the majority of people? I doubt it.
In all, I was kind of distressed by this article. It had a rather Orwellian feel to it, unless that's just me projecting. I dunno, though, forcibly separating kids just because they might like each other? Hello, 1984.
TEAL DEAR: that article = DNW. :/
PS: I completely disagree with the whole "wanting your child to have a BFF makes you too involved in their social lives!" shtick. Hello. And actively interfering in your child's life if you suspect them of having a "special bond" with another kid doesn't? Explain to me the part where this makes sense?
*Tinhats sold separately.
What I actually meant to post about:
1. What do you mean Germany lost?!
2. Curses! Foiled again!
In a very technical sense, I cross-dressed today. Having stored up some of my dad's old work shirts, one pair of his old pants, andstolen borrowed my brother's shoes, I got dressed and went about my day.
Yeah, so the whole don't-get-seen-by-family-thing? Whoops. The following conversation, involving Sarah and Sarah's Dad.
He boggled at me for a moment (inasmuch as my dad can boggle) and then said in a halting tone: "Is that my shirt?"
"Yes," I said, "and your pants."
Silence.
"I... approve." Like pulling teeth sans anesthesia.
"...Thanks?"
And then he left.
... I don't even know. I mean, I don't particularly care if he "approves" of it - or if anyone does, really. There are a ton of other things I would love to have people's approval of, but this is just clothes. (I am not going to tell him that; I am going to let him think what he will, and and I will laugh and laugh and laugh if I ever get married to a man.)
I feel like I kind of see where the article is coming from, in terms of not wanting young kids to form behavioural schemas oriented around a very specific individual, for fear that it might lead to maladaptive attachment styles. On the other hand, I am overwhelmed by the wave of revulsion and DO NOT WANT that this article engenders in me, because what's that, Michelle, we're going on how many years now? I'm pretty comfortable saying that I'm the product of a "best friendship", so I'm definitely biased in that respect. I must say, though, that I do agree with the point mentioned in the article about how if we place too much value on one aspect of our lives, and that aspect goes to shit, the emotional repercussions are pretty severe.
However.
I think a good, reliable best friend is one of the best things any child can have. You can't simulate that friendship; it either happens or it doesn't. A best friend is the one you can tell all your secrets/hopes/dreams to, and you know those things will be respected. Oscar Wilde said: "Give a man a mask and he will tell you the truth". Talking to a best friend is like having that mask, only better, because the mask knows you and loves you and offers you emotional support. (Also, the mask will stan with you, get drunk with you, and laugh at cray-cray things like Jack Harkness's exploding penis with you. The mask may have a tendency to blurt out things like "Stephaaaaaaaaaaaane, get in me nao", but this is normal and is what makes your mask unique*.)
So, I went off to university, and it was good - even great - but it also got really fucking lonely sometimes. Times like these are where best friends come in, because even if you can't actually call the person, sobbing, and wail "I miss you; life is stressful"... sometimes, you don't have to. During any of the more FML-moments of my life, in Toronto, Kingston, wherever, there was always this core of knowledge that "it's ok, whatever happens, you have best friends who are as neurotic and flaily, and as into gay fictional characters as you, and who will stan with you no matter what". So, BFFs = social support network = +1 emotional well-being.
And even when you think about the types of things you tell your best friends, would you tell them to someone you only knew half as well? Someone you'd met, briefly, as an acquaintance? If everyone's core social support network were as vast as the article is proposing, would anyone ever be able to tell secrets? Yes, probably, if that someone were a) very brave and/or b) very naive. But for the majority of people? I doubt it.
In all, I was kind of distressed by this article. It had a rather Orwellian feel to it, unless that's just me projecting. I dunno, though, forcibly separating kids just because they might like each other? Hello, 1984.
TEAL DEAR: that article = DNW. :/
PS: I completely disagree with the whole "wanting your child to have a BFF makes you too involved in their social lives!" shtick. Hello. And actively interfering in your child's life if you suspect them of having a "special bond" with another kid doesn't? Explain to me the part where this makes sense?
*Tinhats sold separately.
What I actually meant to post about:
1. What do you mean Germany lost?!
2. Curses! Foiled again!
In a very technical sense, I cross-dressed today. Having stored up some of my dad's old work shirts, one pair of his old pants, and
Yeah, so the whole don't-get-seen-by-family-thing? Whoops. The following conversation, involving Sarah and Sarah's Dad.
He boggled at me for a moment (inasmuch as my dad can boggle) and then said in a halting tone: "Is that my shirt?"
"Yes," I said, "and your pants."
Silence.
"I... approve." Like pulling teeth sans anesthesia.
"...Thanks?"
And then he left.
... I don't even know. I mean, I don't particularly care if he "approves" of it - or if anyone does, really. There are a ton of other things I would love to have people's approval of, but this is just clothes. (I am not going to tell him that; I am going to let him think what he will, and and I will laugh and laugh and laugh if I ever get married to a man.)
