This week we're running a small package of essays on the topic of nuisances. Why? That's an annoying question.
Last year, I started an essay with the following sentence: "Too often these days I find myself in the position of defending someone I think is annoying from someone I know is dangerous." That essay went on to include many other sentences, some of which were well-received, but that one, the very first one, seems especially to have struck a chord. A lot of people spread it around through screenshots, or quoted it, and still do sometimes. While that was all flattering, it also became somewhat annoying to me. I find it irritating when people share little snippets of writing without linking to the source.
The truth is, I am very easily annoyed by any number of people: People who use leaf blowers. People who drive faster than me. People who drive slower than me. People who make sweeping statements about “the left” when they just mean one guy whose social media presence they dislike. People who share schlocky poetry with agonized captions (this left me devastated … destroyed … disemboweled). People who take themselves too seriously. People who don’t take themselves seriously enough. People who talk about “punching down.” People who themselves seem to be made up entirely of irritations. Hugh Grant is in danger of becoming one of those types, I fear, though for the moment he can still pull it off charmingly. I also fear I could fall prey to it, and I don’t have the benefit of floppy hair or a British accent.
I’m trying to keep my annoyances under control, and stay clear of the point at which I start to think my personal grievances are illustrative of The Real Problems America Faces. I'm trying to remain attuned to the sinking feeling when I realize I’m grasping for post-hoc justifications for my own shortness with others, and to avoid confusing discomfort for a meaningful threat to my well-being. I’m trying, always, not to accidentally find myself on the same side as someone who writes for The Free Press. I think I’m not alone in this, given the popularity of that one sentence I wrote.
A pretty useful heuristic, in terms of how you see the world, is how you answer the question Should I be forced to exist alongside people who annoy me? Responding in the negative seems like an increasingly acceptable option to those who have the power to shape it. The concept of social life as such—sending your kid to a school where they might meet different kinds of kids, ensuring workers have ample time and opportunity to pursue things beyond labor, funding public institutions where crowds of people can encounter beauty, methods of transportation that are not a car—has been coming under a fair amount of fire from all quarters of the Trumpist right, who would prefer anyone they deem beneath them (immigrants, the poor, most women) sent out of sight. Theirs is a vision of life free of all personal affronts, where they are never forced to deal in any meaningful way with the reality of other people. It is a life where you never need to see anyone protest the things you believe in, where your younger coworkers never require a day off, where the streets are free from anyone suffering obvious hardship or psychic distress, where your children will turn out to be exactly who you think they should be, where all knowledge can be served to you by a robot, and where the only sex allowed is the kind you prefer. This is a vision extolled by people who want everything—payment systems, data management, existence itself—to be frictionless.
I think there's a better way to live. It is sometimes the harder way because it requires letting go of the childish desire for things to be exactly how you want them, and the childish instinct to throw a tantrum when your desire is thwarted. It means choosing friction. It means choosing irritation and annoyance and constantly bumping into each other and navigating our own contradicting desires and rolling your eyes and feeling put out and not understanding why someone is like that and then maybe, sometimes, learning why. With respect to my esteemed colleague Barry, there are indeed other people in the world. That’s what I like about being here.
