Feelings: A Linguistic Ailment

I feel, therefore; I am?

Over the last decade or so, an alarming disease has spread across the American language. It has rendered speakers, mostly under the age of forty, incapable of articulating a firm declarative sentence. This affliction can be observed in people of nearly every race, religion and credit rating. The most commonly noticeable symptom of this linguistic ailment is an inordinate use of the phrase “I feel” at the beginning of statements where it does not belong. If one is asked an “Either/Or” question, feelings are irrelevant. For example; if a barista asks if you would like whole milk or skim in your coffee, responding with “I FEEL like I want skim…” is unacceptable. The barista, who is getting paid very little to wake up early and be scalded all morning, has no interest in your feelings. The barista simply wants to complete your order and move on to the next dehumanizing task of the day. They are not paid enough to acknowledge your feelings. Nobody is. This is why therapists charge such steep hourly fees. So what, you may ask, has caused this castration of linguistic fortitude? I have a theory that it correlates with, but is not limited to, the following cultural trends and events:

Self Esteem “Self Esteem" was invented in the 1980’s. Prior to this time, people were not encouraged to think highly of themselves by default. If one does not have an artificially inflated sense of self-worth, one is less likely to share their personal insights with strangers. In previous generations, a person had to actually accomplish something meaningful in order to be asked for their opinion. Now, one gets a medal just for participation - AND the false sense of entitlement that comes with it.

Home Video Cameras In the 1980’s and 90’s, American homes were saturated with a new form of technology that turned every family into the stars of their own poorly produced TV shows, still in re-runs during holidays and family reunions to the present day. The home video camera, which began as an expensive novelty item, quickly turned into a ubiquitous documenter of mundane events that could be replayed ad infinitum, or until an overworked VCR scrambled the tape. Previous technologies that produced choppy silent films which required an empty wall and a bulky projector to consume were no match for the ease and portability of VHS tapes. People became accustomed to watching instant replays of their Christmas mornings, Thanksgiving dinners and high school band concerts almost immediately, thus giving everyone the ability to consume themselves as their own entertainment source.

The Writers Strike of 2007-08 In the fall of 2007, a consortium of TV writers banded together for several months and refused to write sitcoms and crime dramas, citing mistreatment and under-appreciation by their producers. Unfortunately, the TV networks were prepared for this. They had amassed an emergency reserve of “reality” shows to fill in the gaps. The American Public quickly adapted to a steady diet of nouveau riche housewives, teen singing contests and food pornography, all of which promoted the culture of self-indulgence and unfiltered “confessional” sharing. When the strike was resolved in 2008, the writers returned to an industry that now demanded more “reality.” Obviously, their plan had backfired. Post-stirke, instead of writing cheesy dialogue accompanied by canned laugh tracks, they had unintentionally created the Bravo network and the catch-phrase, “I’m not here to make friends.”

Weblogs, or as we now call them; “Blogs” In the late 1990’s, when the internet was measured out in minutes on a phone bill, a new form of self-publication was invented called the weblog. In their primitive form, these weblogs existed as strings of plain text written by mole people for other mole people who needed a medium more permanent than email, but less formal than journalism. The rest of the world was unaware of their existence until the early 2000’s when the masses were given access to things like LiveJournal and Myspace, thus inventing a medium for angsty teenagers, disillusioned college students and under-loved adults to “express” themselves immediately without the buffer of an editor. Every emotional trauma could be published online for the world to consume. This eventually gave birth to current (as of 2016) mediums like Twitter, Instagram and a pile of other instant gratification services that have given the public a false impression that their problems are unique and that their thoughts are valuable.

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So how can we combat this unseemly malady that has turned the American public into self-obsessed whiners? How can we persuade cultural figures like Lena Dunham to stop perpetuating the preponderance of hedonistic turns of phrase in the dialogue of premium episodic dramas that we shamefully hate-watch without cessation? How can we find a balance between self-worth and self-indulgence? These are questions to be left to you, dear reader. Next time you have the urge to provide an explanation for something, qualified by the phrase, “I feel,” ask yourself; why? Do you really “feel” like you need skim milk in your coffee, or can you just ask for it like a grown-up without having to resort to that level of personal oversharing that benefits nobody?

The scientific method...

Figure 1.3: Study specimens ignore the idiot in the subway...

In my previous life before New York (which is what it now seems like), I would look forward to Thursday evenings in my studio with Gabriela, my very insightful drawing student. Gabriela was an Italian transplant finishing her Ph.D. in Ecology in Colorado (and I'm still not quite sure what that means exactly). In addition to science, she had a very artistic streak, and we'd spend one evening per week exploring that whilst discussing the connections between the artistic process and the scientific method - conversations that were nearly always accompanied by friendly libations (or "art supplies" as I call them). We never came to any definitive conclusions, which wasn't really the point, but it has made me view many things in life since then as mere opportunities for pseudo-empirical observation and testing using unaware human subjects and then making unfounded claims based primarily on my own opinions (or what FOX News does 24/7).

The streets of New York are like a giant petri dish for the social sciences; so many tiny little people all shoved into a big maze scurrying about in search of food, sex and money - some even wearing articles of clothing resembling rodent fur (thank heavens fashion week is over!). Part of the brilliance of living in a city of 8 million people is the anonymity that provides when doing really dumb things. Unlike my non-populated hometown where everyone knew everyone else, you can urinate in public on the city streets here, and nobody will tell your mother - they don't know your mother, nor do they have the time to care that you have one (too many people take advantage of this here, especially on St. Patrick's Day). Although the majority of folks wouldn't expose themselves in a subway station, it's always an option, not necessarily the best, but an option none the less. A side effect of this abundance of social impropriety is the fact that the "regular folks" are so desensitized that these events are easily ignorable, thus adding to the allure of doing really dumb things without the fear of permanent social ostracization. 

Sometimes I like to be evil.

On more than one occasion, I've been known to disrupt morning rush-hour sidewalk traffic by walking against the flow, just to see how many people would adjust their course to avoid me, and how many briefcases jab me in the ribs. I've since decided this experiment is not interesting enough to justify the bruises involved, but on a masochistic whim, I may take it up again. Another fun game to play is finding a subway car with an abundance of empty seats and then sitting right next to the only other person on the train; it's almost as exciting as the equivalent game played with urinals in the mens room. My very favorite social experiment is to do something that is rather bizarre and foreign to most New Yorkers, but was second nature to me growing up: holding the door open for strangers. I like to spice up the game a little, and hold the door open for several strangers while smiling AND nodding. As I don't have a uniform with stripes running down the legs, it makes people uncomfortable, especially the smile. They don't know whether to thank me, tip me, or report me to the authorities for being some kind of lunatic. Some just ignore me altogether, as a reflex acquired by exposure to constant over-stimulation. I'm not quite sure what any of these little activities prove, but they are definitely great ways to make the morning commute more engaging, and I get to live out my unrealized scientific dreams.

Although I don't urinate in public (at least during the day), I notice that I do take advantage of these unique social liberties more than I would elsewhere because I know that aside from a scowl or a suitcase to the rib, little more will ever come of my being an ass, and I like that. I'm able to let loose and be "the real me," or at least the me that I decide to be in a given moment. It seems that science has been teaching me much more than my junior high school teachers ever would have though I could possibly absorb. Using science to justify self-indulgent behavior really is changing my life. Thank you Gabriela, and thank you New York!