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published under CPOPL, "Code Project Open Poetic License," copyright 2013, Bill Woodruff
~
The Mask of Spare Change
I had spent so many years perfecting this Mask of how I wanted to seem to other people, that I, finally, realized I had actually become the person I wanted other people to see me as.
Were other people, then, "Fools," because they saw me as what I wanted to seem to them to be; or, were they "wise to me:" and, their acting like they believed my impersonation was really a form of tolerance, or indifference, or maybe they were laughing behind my back all the while, experiencing me as some kind of sit-com on-the-hoof ?
Or, were they Fools because I had carefully selected the people that knew me because I sensed I could pass myself off on them as reflections of what they wanted to see: which, of course, made me: what ? a Fool at the apex of of a pyramid of Fools ?
And … that's when I got in a world of sh*t: because, just as a song, like "all around the mulberry bush," can ensorcell the mind into endlessly repeating it: I got hooked on going over-and-over this idea … to the point I could think of nothing else ! Saunas, cold baths, yoga, binging on Happy Meals: nothing seemed to help !
And, I want to explain that to you, but I have to do it in the form of a story, a fiction, because the "truth" of how I got stuck in what I became, and then couldn't get my ersatz personality out of the quicksand even using compound-low: required development of a whole new Mask of another pseudo-personality … which, of course, is this very story, itself: yes, what you are listening to, or reading: right now.
This is the homeopathic con meant to exorcise the real con whose corner I had painted myself … with the blackest of all paints, total self-absorbed despair … into.
… and the deliberate breaking of this second Mask, the story … I hoped … would then free me from the first Mask: to, finally, become, just like you (well, I think you are), a chameleon, a wearer of many Masks … unless, of course, like me, you also got hung-up in actually becoming a singular simulation of what you wanted other people to believe you were.
In which case, the story, the fiction, may have no "moral" for you: may even seem insane: in which case the best I can hope for … as author … is: you get … at least … "entertained." Or, so freaked out by my thorn-bramble thicket of sub-texts: you can't help but giggle.
But, the big cosmic kahuna mother-of-all-questions … I then discovered … was: what if what I perceived as my unique dilemma … a fake me: that "got over," "got by" … oh my … what if that were Universal ? As human as jealously, or the need for attention ?
So then: if everyone was, in effect, wearing a social mask conforming to the expectations of others: then I wasn't so damn special, after all …
… and the idea "I wasn't so damn special:" really broke my balls: I had a lot of seed-money in that crop.
Anyway, I realized I was unable to recognize to what extent my imagined condition of having assumed successfully a bogus personality tailored to other people's expectations … was, metaphysically, worth either a tinker's dam, or a soldier-of-fortune's final pay-day.
… or made one ounce of difference in the onrushing madness of the larger social life I was a part of courtesy of genes, ancestors, migrations, world-wars, trends, styles, fads … the seeds of personality style my early Gods (now known to be only "parents") had sown in me, to come to fruition with such grotesque mutations that left them, later, permanently terrorized by what their own delving and spanning had wrought.
And, once I realized this, I also realized that I had to abort this story here: it had already become the fiction it claimed it had to be, and it was metastasizing into particularly virulent metaphysical discourse.
I realized this while eating two Happy Meals with super-sized fries and diet-Coke.
I left McDonald's, loosening my belt two notches, but, a whole lot tighter around my ontology.
That was the day I met you in the park, and … by some magic that allowed us to suspend the normal cocoons of so necessary paranoid social vigilance around strangers in parks … abandoning social fear as naturally as the children swinging on the swings hopped off laughing … we walked in the park together, talking:
Whatever the word "stranger" meant, we both shed it like water off ducks' backs, and the tantalizing promise of the reality of a future love … was as tangible, in that autumn fragrant park, as the crackling of the dried leaves under our feet.
What does it mean when, suddenly, words are no longer necessary ?
When you realize you have enough spare change, to not need to short-change your own future by being too obsessed with what you are, or are not ?
And, that the Mask you wear, your Face, is not made of wood, clay, papier mâché, or plastic: it's living flesh that's constantly changing … like the length of the shadows in the trees in the light in the park ?
Well, maybe: "flesh" is close to "clay" in some ways, but in "flesh," the sculptor is present, and always re-shaping.
~
"Sometimes people carry to such perfection the Mask they have assumed that in due course they actually become the person they seem." W. Somerset Maugham
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Perhaps we need a short story section in with the articles. I'd contribute as, I'm sure, would many others. Might be great fun. A whole new direction for CP!
"If you think it's expensive to hire a professional to do the job, wait until you hire an amateur." Red Adair.
Those who seek perfection will only find imperfection
nils illegitimus carborundum
me, me, me
me, in pictures
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mark merrens wrote: Perhaps we need a short story section in with the articles. I'd contribute as, I'm sure, would many others. Might be great fun. A whole new direction for CP!
Possibly suitable place[^] for time being. My favorite section.
thatrajaNobody remains a virgin, Life screws everyone 
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Hi Mark,
I'd certainly enjoy coming down to drink at such a watering-hole, if that's harmonious with CP's identity, and structure. But, perhaps, the Lounge already provides a venue for such expression ?
All through my strange unexpected (beginning in my forties) little pilgrimage/career in computer programming, I have always been delighted with the creativity I experienced among people I worked with.
So many of the best programmers I was privileged to work with were also were musically gifted, or painted, or manifested their creativity in so many various ways, as well as in their code.
And, I think that when folks share, here, on the Lounge, links to music, pictures, surreal news, or poignant strange things on the web, or do bravado denunciations of the kinks in the tools for software development we wrestle with, with righteous fervor: I see creativity there, also.
I know that I would hesitate to post (in serial form ?) any of my longer literary efforts here on CP; that's just based on some kind of gut-level feeling it's not appropriate. That's why I have limited myself to only one short-short story every few months on the Lounge (under 1000 words is my criterion).
I do admit that the idea of writing a kind of serial "novel" about a programming company, and the folks within it, and their interactions, has crossed my mind in the following form: I'd post a 1000 words, and ask people on CP to share their ideas about what should happen next in terms of plot development, character behavior, events, new characters, etc. And, the novel would then, like open-source software, get "forked" and "versions" ... as Ubuntu is to Linux ... would evolve 
Yes, a "crowd-sourced" novel, if you will. But, I think that's probably not appropriate for CP, best left to be just one more fantasy !
bill
Google CEO, Erich Schmidt: "I keep asking for a product called Serendipity. This product would have access to everything ever written or recorded, know everything the user ever worked on and saved to his or her personal hard drive, and know a whole lot about the user's tastes, friends and predilections." 2004, USA Today interview
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BillWoodruff wrote: I'd certainly enjoy coming down to drink at such a watering-hole, if that's
harmonious with CP's identity, and structure.
Given the amount of sheer crap that gets posted in various forums, I'd imagine it not too much of a stretch to have a short story type article.
BillWoodruff wrote: But, perhaps, the Lounge already provides a venue for such expression ?
The problem with that is the story disappears after a couple of days - I don't think people go back days and days to find amusing or interesting posts in the lounge.
BillWoodruff wrote: So many of the best programmers I was privileged to work with were also were
musically gifted, or painted, or manifested their creativity in so many various
ways, as well as in their code.
I would agree with that. Further, it leads me to feel that programming is still more art than science or, perhaps, the perfect blend of both.
"If you think it's expensive to hire a professional to do the job, wait until you hire an amateur." Red Adair.
Those who seek perfection will only find imperfection
nils illegitimus carborundum
me, me, me
me, in pictures
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 Enjoyed
"Rock journalism is people who can't write interviewing people who can't talk for people who can't read." Frank Zappa 1980
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and it was very nice.
Just thought I'd post an inane message that was utterly harmless and inoffensive to anyone to counter some of the crap that gets posted.
BTW: I really did eat a tangerine.
"If you think it's expensive to hire a professional to do the job, wait until you hire an amateur." Red Adair.
Those who seek perfection will only find imperfection
nils illegitimus carborundum
me, me, me
me, in pictures
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mark merrens wrote:
Just thought I'd post an inane message that was utterly harmless and inoffensive to anyone to counter some of the crap that gets posted.
It's a case of mind over matter, if you don't mind it don't matter.
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mark merrens wrote: Just thought I'd post an inane message that was utterly harmless and inoffensive to anyone
I'm offended that you think I can't be offended by this.
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lewax00 wrote: I'm offended that you think I can't be offended by this.
You can't elephanting handle offense, you elephanting sunshine. Elephant you!
Was that more acceptable?
"If you think it's expensive to hire a professional to do the job, wait until you hire an amateur." Red Adair.
Those who seek perfection will only find imperfection
nils illegitimus carborundum
me, me, me
me, in pictures
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mark merrens wrote: Was that more acceptable?
Much.
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Your tangerine will be crap soon enough.
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Hmm, I just had a huge bowl of chili con carne - and I'm about to board a flight ... I'll be mildly surprised if this is of interest to anybody, even if it isn't offensive ...
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You rotten barstool: one fart and you'll suffocate everyone aboard!
"If you think it's expensive to hire a professional to do the job, wait until you hire an amateur." Red Adair.
Those who seek perfection will only find imperfection
nils illegitimus carborundum
me, me, me
me, in pictures
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Good news: everybody survived 
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I just am disgusted when I see talented people, like your good self, underestimating their offensiveness.
I guess that's just a projection resulting from the left-over hurt from my childhood when my offensiveness, contrived with great effort, was, so often, ignored by its targets, even laughed at.
bill
Google CEO, Erich Schmidt: "I keep asking for a product called Serendipity. This product would have access to everything ever written or recorded, know everything the user ever worked on and saved to his or her personal hard drive, and know a whole lot about the user's tastes, friends and predilections." 2004, USA Today interview
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I trust you also tweeted, FaceBooked, LinkedIn'd and Google+'d this valuable piece of information? 
/ravi
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Ravi Bhavnani wrote: tweeted
dumb
Ravi Bhavnani wrote: FaceBooked
dumb
Ravi Bhavnani wrote: LinkedIn
dumb
Ravi Bhavnani wrote: Google
dumb
"If you think it's expensive to hire a professional to do the job, wait until you hire an amateur." Red Adair.
Those who seek perfection will only find imperfection
nils illegitimus carborundum
me, me, me
me, in pictures
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That's a yes then.
speramus in juniperus
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Nagy Vilmos wrote: That's a yes then.
Er, well, er...
"If you think it's expensive to hire a professional to do the job, wait until you hire an amateur." Red Adair.
Those who seek perfection will only find imperfection
nils illegitimus carborundum
me, me, me
me, in pictures
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mark merrens wrote: BTW: I really did eat a tangerine.
What! How could you? Eat a resident of this fine city: Tangiers[^] - you animal!
The only instant messaging I do involves my middle finger.
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That really made me laugh! 
"If you think it's expensive to hire a professional to do the job, wait until you hire an amateur." Red Adair.
Those who seek perfection will only find imperfection
nils illegitimus carborundum
me, me, me
me, in pictures
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Take it to the soapbox.
speramus in juniperus
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Here all along I thought the internet was for cat videos and pr0n.
It was broke, so I fixed it.
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