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[ 4 minute read ]
Maybe and might
I was in Tesco a while ago. I needed to buy some dried beans. I used to be a professional juggler and the first thing we learn with are bean bags; but I was going to eat these beans not start sewing cloth around them.
There are different ways of looking at things and they are highly contexualised within certain groups. When I had a job that required me to have good musculature and enter homes, 'Pop in for a cup of tea if you are in the area' sometimes meant one thing if their husbands and boyfriends were going to be at work, or 'get a free drink and rest for a while if you need to.' The funny thing is, I may have imagined the former being real. But if you hear it enough, is easy to get an idea of veiled intent. Except, the veil was more on how the offering of a cup of tea was made. It was always said in front of the husband or boyfriend as though it was truly innocent. No-one ever trapped me in the hall and seductively slurred, 'Come up and see me sometime!' with hooded eyes, peering meaningfully into mine, above a suggestive smile. I never did go back to visit any of those houses; I really would not do that, and also because just like if any single women had cornered me, if I had gone back during work hours I would have been in the vulnerable position of being about to be rejected. Nobody likes that. So we often speak in code and double-talk and innuendos and double-entendres.
One of my neighbours delivers eggs to my doorstep. I like her because she intrigues me. I could really like her. She does have highly attractive facial expressions that suddenly appear onto a blank canvas; and that intrigues me. She measures her behaviour. The moue of slight embarrassment I once saw is something I want to see again but not if I am the one to embarrass her; you know, not with a gentle jest or tease. Maybe, when she gets home each day she just enters a regeneration period and does precisely nothing interesting. Maybe.
In Tesco, because we are coming up to Easter, there were some little toy, chicks for sale in sets of three, and all made with felt (3 centimetres tall or so). There were also three pigs and three rabbits; all of them anthropomorphised in some way. I remember as a small boy my mum would include little toy fluffy chicks with our Easter Eggs, and they really were nice to have. I originally bought these nine figures to put outside my house for parents to take, but I now think that my neighbour, with her obvious measured consideration would be an ideal recipient.
There she is on the stage, all bashful and surprised.
'For measured and considerate behaviour towards your neighbours, you, Sally, have been awarded the coveted prize of nine cheap felt animals'
'Oooo! Thank you very much! I would like to thank Martin's mum for bringing him up to like felt animals, even though he was surrounded by real ones; and of course, the architects who designed our houses and make the trip next door so easy. My thanks go to the wonderful chickens who laid the eggs I give him, and of course, his nearest neighbour who has so far resisted stealing them.'
I left the nine felt animals in a freezer bag on her doorstep; so, she will not get a standing ovation, and she will no doubt want to share them, because she is like that. The problem with that, is with that last; will she be able to break an unwritten code of not giving away received gifts? She is sensible and mighty clever and really considerate so she just may share them. Good!
Sometimes, living in the maybe moments are more favourable than the real ones. I suggest, it is something every one of us enjoy but I think we don't provide it for others as much as we might. A lot of the time, if I am honest, I am a bit afraid of how appointments and meetings may turn out and I push for order and reason.
I have been looking into how language is used in creative writing and went to Beth Roars, a voice coach, on YouTube to see what she says about singers. After hours of fascinating stuff she told me about 'The Fate of Ophelia' by Taylor Swift. Now, let me be clear, I have always considered Taylor Swift to be a bit whimsical and childish in her singing and writing. Let's face it her target market was teenage girls. One cannot deny that she is a huge hit and writes at least some of her songs (I think she is in fact a contributor to all her song lyrics). Without the guidance of Beth Roar and the accompanying Fate of Ophelia video, and Beth Roar obliquely pointing out that the song references Taylor Swift's current boyfriend, herself, and Shakespeare's 'Ophelia' in Hamlet, the whole message of the song would be entirely lost on me.
Taylor Swift, it seemed, did not allow herself to live in a 'real maybe', if there is such a thing. 'Maybe' is almost entirely based on hope and probability, and its make-up is measured (if you can measure 'maybe') in differing amounts for everyone.
You may note that I described Sally, next door, as 'measured in her behaviour' which if I did not make clear, comes from her careful consideration for possible outcomes. What a wonderful trait! But what a terrible place to live in if it is a place where everything has a known quality and any combination of events has a known outcome.
It seems that 'maybe' might only exist when things are new, like surprises.
Oooops! Deja vu!