Day: October 16, 2008

The flier arrived at our house a couple of weeks ago. It was a double spread newspaper style advertisement completely covered with photos of kids in costumes. Gleek found the flier and carried it around for days. She and her friend incorporated the flier into some of their games. “Okay and then I transform into this one!” Gleek would declare pointing to the paper. I quickly realized that Gleek wanted to be have one of these costumes for Halloween. I also realized that I did not want to spend hours at a sewing machine trying to replicate a costume that I could go out and buy for $15. So today we made the trek to Halloween USA. Patch went with us.

Patch already knew what he wanted to be. He wanted to be Indiana Jones, just like Link. Link already had all the necessary props (hat, jacket, whip, gun.) Now we just had to find similar props for Patch. We headed to the children’s costumes section. There were no Indiana Jones options in kid sizes. I led Patch to the wall of boy costumes and suggested that perhaps he could pick something else. His eyes lit on a Star Wars Clone Soldier outfit. He decided that maybe being a Stormtrooper would be okay. He then selected a plastic gun to go with it. This was when I made my mistake. I referred to the outfit as “Clone Soldier.” Patch took a close look at the packaging. He realized that he had a Boba Fett gun and Clone Soldier clothing. This obviously would not do. It took much coaxing from me to convince him that it was allowable to mix and match. Fortunately we were saved from this crisis by the discovery of Indiana Jones gear in the adult costumes. Sure the jacket was too big, but Patch didn’t care. We abandoned Star Wars for Indiana Jones and all was well.

Gleek did not arrive at the store knowing what she wanted. She flitted through the entire children’s section pointing out the things she liked, delighted every time she recognized a costume that had been on the flier. “I might want that. I might want that. I want to be spooky. But maybe I want to be pretty.” She hovered with delight like a little butterfly sampling all the available flowers. At last she began to settle. She was drawn to the split angel/devil costumes. One half white angel, other half red devil. But then she thought that she would rather be more devilish. The decision was finally made when we cruised down the aisle full of wings. There was a beautiful pair of big white angel wings. Gleek fell in love. Now she just needed clothing to match her wings. Fortunately that was easily found.

On the way out we trekked through the “haunted house” which was really just a display of animatronic yard decorations. Sufficiently creepy for the 5-7 crowd. Gleek and Patch were fascinated. Then we took our prizes and went home. Hurray! The costumes are done!

In an online writer’s forum to which I belong, there was a discussion about debating politics and religion. The board had a policy of discouraging such discussions since they tend to create resentments. Some members lamented the lack of debate, others spoke up in support of the policy. I composed a post for the discussion, but then deleted it because by the time I crafted it, the discussion had taken a different direction. Besides, I wasn’t sure that my input added anything substantive.

During the course of the discussion, it became apparent that some of the forum members are enlivened and invigorated by active, even heated debates. For these people, debating is one of the ways they bond with others. If someone refuses to debate, it feels like a rejection. I’m stating this as best I can understand. I may have it wrong, because this is not how I feel about heated debate. I am only comfortable with debates if I am absolutely certain that the debate will not damage the relationships of the people in the debate. Generally this only applies with family members or friends who might as well be family. In all other situations, I will either act to calm the debate or change the subject. If neither is possible, I will quietly leave.

Conflict creates an anxiety state in me that is extremely unpleasant. It is like nails on a chalkboard or a sound that vibrates my teeth. I have to do something to end the discomfort. I usually take the “quietly leave” approach because the other paths are harder. Also because I understand that other people really enjoy debating, and who am I to destroy their fun just because it makes me uncomfortable. If the conflict is between my children, then I interfere, because that is my job. Even then, my natural tendency is to try to find the shortest path to Conflict End. I’ve had to train myself to not seek the shortest path if that path is either unfair or seriously undermines some other educational effort. The quickest way to stop a tantrum is to hand out candy, but that only sets me up for more tantrums in the future.

I’ve identified the roots of my conflict aversion. I learned it young. In college I had an almost-boyfriend who accused me of being passive and weak because I avoided conflicts. He was wrong. The amount of work I put into conflict avoidance is far from passive and I am not weak. There are times and places to go to battle for the things that I believe. I have battled before and I will battle again when necessary. I am just not willing to potentially damage relationships over a theoretical debate. This is particularly true on the internet. Text-only communication removes all the body language and vocal cues that let other people know that you still like them even if you vehemently disagree with their position. If you know the other person, then memory can provide those cues, but if not civility tends to vanish quickly.

Written words linger in ways that spoken words do not. The opinion I express on the internet today may hurt me or someone else months or even years from now. This is why I treat my opinions like knives. I keep them tucked carefully away until it is time for me to use them for something constructive. Even then the opinions have the ability to cut, just as knives can accidentally slice a finger. But injury is never my intent. I can also wield my opinions in self defense, but I prefer not to do so. Defensive people have stopped listening to others.

I’ve been accused of not having opinions, of ‘going with the crowd.’ I have many opinions about politics, abortion, religion, child rearing, cooking, gardening, household maintenance, and many other topics. Just because I don’t speak up in theoretical debate does not mean that I don’t have thoughts or that I agree with the speaker. It also does not mark me as narrow minded. I truly enjoy understanding how other people think and why they make choices that are different from mine. I just prefer to gain this information in an atmosphere of informational exchange and comparison rather than argument. These discussions have just as much potential to rock my world as debates do, but without the teeth vibrating anxiety of conflict.

I know that for some people, the way that I live is anathema. I do not believe that I am right or that they are wrong. We are just different. In fact I frequently ponder whether those who fearlessly debate are right. Perhaps I am just scared. Perhaps I should speak out more and accept the fact that some of my opinions will make others angry. But then I wonder why I should do something that causes anger when the same opinion in a different context would only cause interested attention. And then I think that if all the conflict adverse people like me never speak up, then the debate hungry people will never have a chance to understand why some people eschew debate. If people like me do not speak up, then debate seems like the only viable option for opinion/belief comparison.

And so I write this entry, choosing my words carefully, afraid because once a stone is cast into a pond I can not predict all of the ripples. This is me. I am naturally conflict adverse, a born conciliator. I can only be who I am and try to be a better me tomorrow.