I have been spending sometimes with the books - frictions, non frictions, they are all products of intellectual inspirations, valuable introspective analyses. Station Eleven is a book that I finished the other day for a local book club that I joined. This book didn't register me too much other than the shock value I got for taking place in a post apocalyptic world. The previous novel I read prior was Americanah. That book connected with me so much that I believe the many friction books that follows after will most likely cast in shadows for a while.
While reading, one particular character left a heavy impression on me. It was a character in the memories, someone that was involved for half a page out of the three hundred page novel. It took place at a social party, a woman sipping on her cocktail, wobbling around as if she owns the whole scene. She occasionally interrupts people while they are speaking and asks: "I'm sorry...What exactly is it that you do?" She often mistakes rudeness for intellectual rigor, smiles tactfully in social situations, with occasional "oh"s as amusement and as if showing wild interest in someone else is rare. Our main protagonist believes that she is the most pretentious person she had ever seen.
I can easily imagine a woman like that, dressed color-coordinated, cashmere sweater, white pants, J-crew jewelry, Kate Spade handbag, Cole Haan flats. I would think she is some well-to-do semi-important woman in some kind of marketing that involves dealing with people on a daily basis. I would give her initially a hint of respect while being wary of my own behavior, subconsciously comparing myself with her. I would silently judge how she behaves in front of strangers, positioning marks among my mental checklist of friendliness, open-mindedness, number of positive-neutral-negative comments being said, all of which determines if she is worthy befriending and will be of good influence on me.
For the woman that appeared in Station Eleven, I would also think that she is pretentious, have high standards, constantly and consistently judgmental. She is someone who doesn't care how she appeared to other people while others' opinion deeply define her at the same time. I have seen these kind of people, especially in power-hungry cities like DC and New York. They are unhappy with their lives due to their own standards and judgements. They believe that they are confident and indestructible on the surface, but actually arrogant and easily stressed on the inside.
How do I know so much about these people? It's because frankly, I am exactly like that. I behave exactly like that woman in social situations, and of course I have my own reasons for behaving this way. I dress nicely to create a good first impression. A cocktail in my hand is my ticket for fitting in. While evaluating, I would also make sure I am well represented. I want to be like myself with my facial expressions and reactions especially at first impression, because pretending at first would elicit pretending for the rest of eternity. I occasionally show interests because there are only so many things someone says that interest me. My eyebrows would raise only slightly while I heard something that is worth longer in-depth discussions, because I would not want to appear too desperate. I would not smile too much to cover up my neurotic nature. I would be impatient with a content-lacking conversation going on, and tactfully break into the conversation by changing subjects, usually by "Oh really? So what do you do then?"
Somehow to my own justification, I seem to do no wrong. If that appears pretentious to a writer and to myself, then some analysis and brain-storming are required. Because, you know, we don't want to be called pretentious.
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