I had an interesting conversation with the good doctor on Friday night regarding my high levels of cynicism and pessimism. He was asking me about my reasons for not wanting to be a wife and mother… and I mentioned that knowing my own selfishness and being aware of my sense of responsibility, I would completely resent HAVING to be responsible for a being that was totally dependent upon me for everything and for which I would be totally responsible. That’s a special sort of hell for me.

We talked about gender roles and responsibilities, cultural influences on those (old school European versus what I’ve come to believe living in this day and age), and other fun stuff. Then came this question, “But wouldn’t you want to have a child so that some part of you could go on? So that there would be someone to inherit your intelligence and personality?”

I replied that a) there is no guarantee of my positive traits being passed on, b) I have no desire to propagate myself, c) I’m fine with not “living on” because I’m quite all right with the ephemeral nature of life and the impermanence of things and d) if I want permanence, I can write a book.

He nodded, jotted some notes, and then said, “You’re really cynical.” This has been discussed before, but I think the depth of it was a surprise. And the fact that I am this cynical while still having a sense of humor and retaining a sense of humanity. We talked about how those two aspects of my personality can co-exist… because they are, strictly speaking, in conflict with one another and should not harmonize. I came to a little bitty realization - one that I’ve been aware of externally, but didn’t apply to myself.

I’ve always been drawn to things that contain or convey a sense of conflict or contradiction, and usually in subtly humorous style. Happy-sounding songs that, if you listen to the lyrics, are about serial killers or obsession or suicide. Movies that seem to be light and happy or even for children and are, on viewing and understanding, quite dark. Books and stories - classic fairy tales, novels, whatever - that present some very dark or disturbing themes in the guise of happy frou-frou or vice versa… that use a dark or disturbing storyline to talk about something very light, or mock the darkness in that way. Artwork that uses a childish or naive style to depict death or destruction (I instantly think of Mark Ryden’s paintings).

I don’t think it’s all that dissonant, really - being a nice and human person doesn’t mean I can’t also be a complete cynic. My cynicism is reserved for my personal beliefs, feelings and life; everyone else gets the ‘judgment free’ treatment. If your wishes, hopes, dreams and beliefs are different from mine, that’s all they are: different. Not bad or inferior or stupid. If you get what you’re hoping for, I am genuinely happy for you. I can appreciate that we’re not all cut from the same weird-ass cloth.

Anyway, it’s another sleepless night. I can’t get comfortable, I can’t find the right room temp or pillow softness or book or TV show or music or silence to help me sleep. So I’m writing until my brain isn’t whirring constantly anymore.

I watched a really cool version of the “Faust” story today; Jan Svankmajer’s “Faust”. I think I’ll need to watch it a few more times and perhaps read up a bit on the Faust legend to see if any of the film elements are taken from minutiae in the legend. I know I have a copy of the Marlowe version of “Faust” the drama in an anthology from my college days… but it’s a bit late at night to start shuffling through bookshelves looking for it.

I shall content myself with flipping through the channels until I get tired enough to konk out.