January 18, 2012

I’m not an identical twin (nor do I play one on TV), but I am confused with my mother, my sister, even my sons, when people who write bear me in mind or use me as some kind of muse.  It’s frustrating for me because these people often attribute to me character traits, or even diseases, I don’t have, family situations that are not mine, and other characteristics belonging to these relatives of mine.  I think such writers often also misunderstand what I actually do, what it entails, what it requires, what it precludes.  I have also wondered whether as much as these other people are mistaking a composite for me, I am misapprehending them in some analogous way myself.  If there is no mutually agreeable means for sorting out such misunderstandings, I’m not sure what to do.  That’s where I seem to find myself now.  My desire is for a better process, and my hope is that when all is said and done, there is a pony there (under all that manure), even if it’s not what either of us thought it would be.

The only other thing I would add is that if I find a current state of misunderstanding is harming me, at some point I need to do something about that on my own if the other person is not motivated to engage in a sorting out process.  I usually hang in there way too long, but I do this I think because I try to do everything I can so that I won’t harbor regrets later.


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