When most of us hear someone talking in public about the value of religion in their lives, especially if it’s not our religion, we usually roll our eyes, avoid getting involved in the conversation, and file them away under “hysterical religious zealot” for future reference—they’re probably trying to convert people.
It’s difficult to discuss religion or spirituality in a rational way unless you are satirizing it, which is why many intellectual discussions of the subject tend to resort to scorn. But the inherent difficulty—and hence rarity of serious discussion—lies in addressing a necessarily irrational concept within a logical construct. Religion is not rational; whenever it tries to be, it usually fails miserably and ends up being mercilessly lampooned for its hypocrisy and illogical rationalizations.
Religion and spirituality are fundamentally about justifying the irrational; about trying to gain a sense of security within an unavoidably insecure existence; about finding the faith to walk blindfolded through the minefields that are our lives. There’s nothing rational about it.
If someone were to ask me, I would not describe myself as a religious person. In the same breath, though, I would probably contend that I am spiritual. Religious entails religion, which connotes ritual and dogma, which I shy away from. To me, spirituality is much more personal—almost exclusively so. Whereas religion is institutionalized and thus often static, spirituality, at an individual, intuitive level, can always be evolving.
I’ve been raised loosely following Jainism. I say loosely because I’m not particularly well versed in Jain history, philosophy, or ritual. This is not because I ever rebelled against it or rejected it when I was younger, I just never really learned much about it growing up.
Jainism is not a common religion as it is. In India, there are only roughly 4.5 million Jains, and in North America maybe 70,000. It is seen as a strict, austere religion, even in India, and self-denial often plays a major role in its practice. Nonviolence (ahimsa) is the most fundamental concept, and Jains must show compassion for all living beings. All other beliefs, more or less, radiate from this central principle.
For most of my childhood, though, the primary manifestation of this compassion was in our strict vegetarianism; I really didn’t know how else I was supposed to act differently from others. So being a Jain basically meant eating a lot of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch when I was in grade school while my friends ate turkey sandwiches and hamburgers.
I grew up in a community and within a school system that was almost exclusively white and Christian. Among all the red-blooded, meat-eating, church-going kids I grew up and went to school with, I was a dark-skinned, vegetarian, godless anomaly. And while this environment was never outwardly hostile towards my religious beliefs (beliefs that were always rather nebulous to me, anyhow), I usually kept them to myself unless someone asked about them—usually a mother of one of my friends, whose house I had gone over for dinner, after I announced that I was vegetarian and would be fine just eating the salad, thanks. Even then, half the time I’d make up answers to more specific questions I didn’t know, fairly confident that with such an obscure religion, no one could possibly call my bluff. And so began my invention of my own version of Jainism.
As I grew older, I often found myself troubled by my value system, mainly because I remained unclear on what it really was as dictated by my religion. I never took matters of conscience lightly, and I often agonized over whether I should feel guilty about joining in on certain “normal” adolescent behaviors with my friends: your garden-variety peer pressure anxiety. I realized that it wasn’t a very Jain society I was growing up in.
But my intuitive conscience, whatever its source, continued to win out, and I continued to feel more and more different from most of my friends as a result; not because of anything I did, but rather what I didn’t do. Whenever asked to justify my decisions, though, I ran into the problem of rationalizing again. I’m still terrible at explaining why I don’t drink, for example; it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, and no matter how hard I try, it sounds overzealous. So the easy (though not entirely accurate) response is that “it’s a religious choice,” because Jainism does forbid drinking. In reality, it’s less Jainism than instinct.
Jainism—or at least my version of it—has become increasingly intuitive to me. Practically speaking, I usually cannot fast as much, or be as strict about my diet as Jainism calls for; I cannot avoid killing insects when I’m driving on the freeway; I cannot go to a Jain temple to pray and meditate as often as would be desirable. Instead, I use the framework as a guide, but interpret the specifics as I intuitively see fit. I follow the spirit of the religion insofar as I understand (and occasionally invent) it, which is why I prefer the label of spiritual to religious.
But I don’t have a static set of beliefs, which is why I don’t think I fully embody Jain beliefs or would fully embody any other religion’s beliefs (I have the same problem when people ask me my political affiliation). Jainism has undeniably been a—perhaps, the—major influence on my value system, but I do have personal reactions that I suspect are sometimes hypocritical to Jain Dharma. And my beliefs are still evolving. Instead of having to constantly reinterpret a religious dogma to avoid a crisis in faith, I would rather rely on my own personal intuition—influenced, but not dictated, by religious beliefs—when evaluating something I find myself ambivalent about. Is animal testing justifiable? Do I support military aggression under certain circumstances?
When I feel lost, I can usually find guidance through introspection; when I have trouble understanding events in my life, my first instinct is to seek answers within myself. And in truth, I still make the most important decisions of my life intuitively, often irrespective of how rational they are.
In 1964, Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart, in the Jacobellis vs. Ohio decision, wrote about defining the term ‘hard-core pornography’: “I shall not today attempt to define further the kinds of material I understand to be embraced within that shorthand description; and perhaps I could never succeed in intelligibly doing so. But I know it when I see it.”
Though admittedly a questionable analogy to use, that’s pretty much how I feel about my version of Jainism. I know it when I see it. As a consequence, I also feel much less like a hypocrite as I attempt to embody my beliefs, whatever they are.
--
Originally written in December 2001 & published on thesala.com.
http://thesala.com/episode04/01.html
Sunday, December 16, 2001
Friday, November 02, 2001
a rhyme to fill (a congratulatory ode)
Subject: [p-sat] a rhyme to fill (a congratulatory ode)
Date: 2 Nov 2001 17:54:54 -0800
From: sdshah@alumni.princeton.edu
To: psat@princeton.edu
'twas a night in november,
the year was 2k1
I was sitting at work
the week almost done
started reminiscing 'bout times
the ones from past years
of driving in vans
and bowing to cheers
of spending all our time
engrossed in a play
writing one-liners
and rehearsing all day
there were desis, and chases,
the birds and the bees
dances and fights
from our hands and our knees
there was feasting on donuts
and sleeping on floors
racing in shopping carts
and banging on doors
there were flat tires in ohio
in some no name town
there was falling glass in rhode island
leaving us bloody at brown
wachusetts was lonely
MIT was unreal
michigan was crowded
but I think ivanhoe was ideal
some crowds laughed uneasily
finding us somewhat precarious
one crowd had cocktails
making everything hilarious
others spoke afterwards
of being genuinely inspired
praising us for the poignancy
beneath our satires
still others were offended
by our presumptions and gall
accusing us of stereotyping
and generally dropping the ball
but thespians we weren't
for playwriting was new
directing was foreign
and our tech skills were few
still interviews were postponed
and school work cast aside
to deal with the drama
for the sake of p-sat pride
we were premeds on stage
alongside fobs who were fighting
we were economists dancing
beneath bollywood lighting
the first and the oldest
south asian theater troupe
composed fully of students
unlike any other group
and so we remain
touring with 'chasing anjali'
following two original successes
we're back for number three
so with nostalgia and regard
and our first trilogy complete
congratulations are in order
for the memories are sweet
--
congratulations, p-sat, on tour #3, and making us all proud.
love,
sachin
Date: 2 Nov 2001 17:54:54 -0800
From: sdshah@alumni.princeton.edu
To: psat@princeton.edu
'twas a night in november,
the year was 2k1
I was sitting at work
the week almost done
started reminiscing 'bout times
the ones from past years
of driving in vans
and bowing to cheers
of spending all our time
engrossed in a play
writing one-liners
and rehearsing all day
there were desis, and chases,
the birds and the bees
dances and fights
from our hands and our knees
there was feasting on donuts
and sleeping on floors
racing in shopping carts
and banging on doors
there were flat tires in ohio
in some no name town
there was falling glass in rhode island
leaving us bloody at brown
wachusetts was lonely
MIT was unreal
michigan was crowded
but I think ivanhoe was ideal
some crowds laughed uneasily
finding us somewhat precarious
one crowd had cocktails
making everything hilarious
others spoke afterwards
of being genuinely inspired
praising us for the poignancy
beneath our satires
still others were offended
by our presumptions and gall
accusing us of stereotyping
and generally dropping the ball
but thespians we weren't
for playwriting was new
directing was foreign
and our tech skills were few
still interviews were postponed
and school work cast aside
to deal with the drama
for the sake of p-sat pride
we were premeds on stage
alongside fobs who were fighting
we were economists dancing
beneath bollywood lighting
the first and the oldest
south asian theater troupe
composed fully of students
unlike any other group
and so we remain
touring with 'chasing anjali'
following two original successes
we're back for number three
so with nostalgia and regard
and our first trilogy complete
congratulations are in order
for the memories are sweet
--
congratulations, p-sat, on tour #3, and making us all proud.
love,
sachin
Saturday, September 22, 2001
stochastic
Note: This piece is written from the point of view of several different people with whom the author has spoken in recent months.
There was a time, once, when I believed in god. In this benevolent being that was looking out for us all. Someone who was responsible for the beginning, someone who would see us through to the end. He justified the irrational, explained the otherwise inexplicable, and gave meaning to daily events. But that was before the Big Bang.
On July 17, 1996, the sky exploded. It bellowed out fire and volume into the night and resonated for what seemed like an eternity. I collapsed to my knees, covering my bowed head with both arms and sobbing hysterically as hot shards of red debris rained down on me.
Maybe there is no meaning. Maybe things just happen. Maybe our lives are simply a series of random stochastic events.
After it happened I could either believe in god and hold myself somehow responsible, or abandon a concept that had abandoned me. I could no longer reconcile my experiences with the idea of a benevolent god. I was already devastated with grief; I refused to feel guilt as well.
Was it a bomb? Or maybe a missile? Some even suggested a meteorite! In the end, the official conclusion was mechanical failure. A short circuit most likely ignited the fuel-air mixture in the center fuel tank.
The truth is, they have no fucking idea. That should’ve been the official conclusion. The mechanical failure explanation, even if it is the most likely, is also the least objectionable. And for those in charge of the investigation, it was the lowest maintenance account. It required essentially no further action.
At the same time, though, it’s perhaps the most disconcerting. The officially determined cause of this catastrophe was flimsy at best. There was no Timothy McVeigh to execute here, no Osama bin Laden to hunt. At least the capture of criminals deemed responsible for such tragedies gives us some comfort. It allows us to believe we have eliminated the source; that we have somehow defeated the enemy and thus purged ourselves of the threat. Having been reassured in this manner, we are able to resume living our lives, feeling secure.
Instead, the culprit in this case was most likely a random spark in an obscure part of a mammoth jet. The best that could be offered to the public here, in the absence of a definitive perpetrator, were assurances that measures had been taken that may or may not correct the problem that may or may not have caused the plane to crash.
In the end, regardless of the plausibility of any given explanation, it was a random stochastic event. My life was devastated by a random stochastic event.
We seek reasons to lead us into believing that these catastrophes are preventable. If we take the necessary precautions and rigorously adhere to certain procedures, everything will be fine. This is more than a tendency; it is a knee-jerk reaction.
Columbine happened, and we all said “well, look at the music they were listening to, look at the websites they were visiting, where were the parents?” as if it was a foreseeable and thus—most importantly—preventable incident. When a Georgia man bludgeoned his wife and two children to death, and then went on a shooting spree at two day-trading firms in Atlanta the next day, killing 9 more and wounding 13, we said, “the stress of day-trading got to him, the markets were down, he lost a lot of money, he snapped.” Every effect must have a logical cause.
If something goes wrong, someone must be held accountable, something must explain it. In retrospect, there were always blatant oversights; in the aftermath, there are always justified outcries. How could this have happened? We identify a reason for the calamity, and then we fix it. The world is, after all, perfectible, right?
Or is it? On July 17,1996, I was introduced to the irrational. It exists. Though events in our lives regularly remind us of its presence, we usually close our eyes and plug our ears and hum to ourselves instead. We rationalize the irrational away. It’s far too scary to acknowledge if you don’t have to.
It’s true: if Osama bin Laden did not exist before September 11th, we would’ve created him. The very existence of the man responsible for our fear since that day will allow us to feel secure again once he is taken care of. Just think how much worse it would be for us all without him.
--
Originally written in September 2001 & published on thesala.com.
http://www.thesala.com/episode03/10.html
There was a time, once, when I believed in god. In this benevolent being that was looking out for us all. Someone who was responsible for the beginning, someone who would see us through to the end. He justified the irrational, explained the otherwise inexplicable, and gave meaning to daily events. But that was before the Big Bang.
On July 17, 1996, the sky exploded. It bellowed out fire and volume into the night and resonated for what seemed like an eternity. I collapsed to my knees, covering my bowed head with both arms and sobbing hysterically as hot shards of red debris rained down on me.
Maybe there is no meaning. Maybe things just happen. Maybe our lives are simply a series of random stochastic events.
After it happened I could either believe in god and hold myself somehow responsible, or abandon a concept that had abandoned me. I could no longer reconcile my experiences with the idea of a benevolent god. I was already devastated with grief; I refused to feel guilt as well.
Was it a bomb? Or maybe a missile? Some even suggested a meteorite! In the end, the official conclusion was mechanical failure. A short circuit most likely ignited the fuel-air mixture in the center fuel tank.
The truth is, they have no fucking idea. That should’ve been the official conclusion. The mechanical failure explanation, even if it is the most likely, is also the least objectionable. And for those in charge of the investigation, it was the lowest maintenance account. It required essentially no further action.
At the same time, though, it’s perhaps the most disconcerting. The officially determined cause of this catastrophe was flimsy at best. There was no Timothy McVeigh to execute here, no Osama bin Laden to hunt. At least the capture of criminals deemed responsible for such tragedies gives us some comfort. It allows us to believe we have eliminated the source; that we have somehow defeated the enemy and thus purged ourselves of the threat. Having been reassured in this manner, we are able to resume living our lives, feeling secure.
Instead, the culprit in this case was most likely a random spark in an obscure part of a mammoth jet. The best that could be offered to the public here, in the absence of a definitive perpetrator, were assurances that measures had been taken that may or may not correct the problem that may or may not have caused the plane to crash.
In the end, regardless of the plausibility of any given explanation, it was a random stochastic event. My life was devastated by a random stochastic event.
We seek reasons to lead us into believing that these catastrophes are preventable. If we take the necessary precautions and rigorously adhere to certain procedures, everything will be fine. This is more than a tendency; it is a knee-jerk reaction.
Columbine happened, and we all said “well, look at the music they were listening to, look at the websites they were visiting, where were the parents?” as if it was a foreseeable and thus—most importantly—preventable incident. When a Georgia man bludgeoned his wife and two children to death, and then went on a shooting spree at two day-trading firms in Atlanta the next day, killing 9 more and wounding 13, we said, “the stress of day-trading got to him, the markets were down, he lost a lot of money, he snapped.” Every effect must have a logical cause.
If something goes wrong, someone must be held accountable, something must explain it. In retrospect, there were always blatant oversights; in the aftermath, there are always justified outcries. How could this have happened? We identify a reason for the calamity, and then we fix it. The world is, after all, perfectible, right?
Or is it? On July 17,1996, I was introduced to the irrational. It exists. Though events in our lives regularly remind us of its presence, we usually close our eyes and plug our ears and hum to ourselves instead. We rationalize the irrational away. It’s far too scary to acknowledge if you don’t have to.
It’s true: if Osama bin Laden did not exist before September 11th, we would’ve created him. The very existence of the man responsible for our fear since that day will allow us to feel secure again once he is taken care of. Just think how much worse it would be for us all without him.
--
Originally written in September 2001 & published on thesala.com.
http://www.thesala.com/episode03/10.html
Friday, July 06, 2001
paranoia (excerpt)
viii.
Enter Alex and Dexter
Jake – Hey guys, long time no see! What are you doing he—wait, you guys know each other?
Dexter – Oh. Yeah, we go way back.
Jake – Really? I had no idea.
Alex – Yeah, well small world.
Jake – I’ll say. So what’s going on?
Dexter – Well, funny you ask, Jake.
Alex – Maybe you should sit down.
Jake – What is it?
Dexter – We, uh, have to tell you something.
Jake – Ok.
Alex – I’m not quite sure how to explain this, because it’s kind of—
Dexter – Complicated.
Alex – Right.
Jake – Ok…Well?
Dexter – It’s actually pretty funny.
Alex – (to Dexter) Well, maybe to us. But it won’t be to him.
Dexter – Yeah, I guess you’re right.
Jake – Are you going to tell me or what?
Alex – Jake—(deep breath) Jake, we’ve been meeting.
Jake – Who? Meeting about what?
Alex – Us.
Dexter – About you.
Jake – I don’t understand. You’re not making any sense.
Alex – Jake, let’s face it. You’re a disaster.
Jake – What?
Dexter – You expect too much.
Alex – You’re too demanding.
Jake – What are you talking about?
Alex – (shrugs shoulders) Uh, how do I say this.
Dexter – The paper.
Alex – Oh yeah! (takes out sheet of crumpled paper from his pocket and starts to read) Let’s see…“you’re self-centered, oversensitive, and unreasonable.”
Jake – What are you saying? What are you reading?
Dexter – Jake, we’ve been meeting.
Jake – Guys—
Alex – Thursday nights.
Jake – (agitatedly confused) What? Who?
Alex – Well, a bunch of people.
Dexter – Who all know you.
Jake – What’re you meeting about?
Alex – Well, lots of things, really.
Jake – Alex—
Dexter – Uh, you, mainly. We meet to talk about you.
Jake – What do you mean you meet to talk about me?
Alex – Uh, well, every Thursday, we get together and talk about you.
Dexter – Behind your back.
Jake – Guys, this isn’t funny. Cut the fucking bullshit.
Alex – Yeah, your analyst said you might react like this.
Dexter – Oh yeah, that’s right! He’s good.
Jake – My analyst?
Alex – Yeah. Theodore comes, too.
Dexter – To our meetings.
Alex – He warned us about your irrational temper.
Jake – My irrational temper? What the fuck are you doing meeting with my analyst?
Dexter – Renee invited him to come.
Alex – To our meetings.
Jake – Renee? My ex-girlfriend, Renee?
Dexter – Yeah, that’s the one.
Jake – Ren—Renee is meeting with my analyst?
Alex – Well, we’re all meeting. Not just Renee and Theodore.
Jake – Who else?!
Alex – Lots of people.
Dexter – Lisa, for instance.
Jake – My girlfriend??
Alex – Yeah. She and Renee get along great.
Jake – What the fuck is going on?
Alex – Oh, right. I knew this was going to difficult.
Dexter – It’s complicated.
Alex – Right.
Jake – What are these meetings?
Alex – Ok, let’s try this again.
Dexter – Just stick to the paper.
Alex – Right. So basically (reading again from crumpled paper) “we feel that you are self-absorbed and have too grandiose a sense of self-importance.”
Jake – No I don’t!—what are you reading?
Dexter – Oh, those are just some notes.
Alex – So we remember what we’re supposed to tell you.
Jake – What you’re supposed to tell me?
Dexter – On the group’s behalf.
Jake – What group?!?
Alex – Aren’t you paying attention?
Dexter – Listen up, Jake, this is important.
Alex – Yeah. (continues reading) “You also seem to believe that you are ‘special’
and unique, and can only be understood by other ‘special’ or high-status people.”
Jake – What are these meetings about!?
Dexter – Well, basically we meet to talk about you.
Jake – Behind my back, yes, you said that. But why??
Alex – Well, basically we’re sick of your shit.
Jake – What shit?
Alex – (reading again) Uh, “you frequently show arrogant, haughty behavior and attitudes and are often envious of others or think they are envious of you. ”
Jake – That’s not tru—would you stop reading!?!
Alex – I just want to get it right.
Dexter – We spent the entire meeting last time making sure we got this worded right.
Jake tears the paper out of Alex’s hand.
Jake – Without reading from this goddamned paper, tell me what these meetings are about!
Alex – (agitated) See, this is exactly what we mean. Every month we consider disbanding, but every month you justify our meetings with your continued—
Dexter – Pomposity and self-importance.
Alex – Exactly!
Jake – Every month? How long have you been meeting?
Alex – (counting on his fingers, then looking up at Dexter) About 4 years now?
Dexter – Yeah, it’ll be 4 years in March.
Jake – What have you been doing for 4 years!?
Alex – Well, basically, we devise strategies.
Jake – Strategies?
Dexter – Ways to keep you mired in perpetual uncertainty.
Jake – I don’t believe this.
Dexter – Well, it’s true.
Alex – We all conspire to keep you frustrated and discontent.
Jake – You guys are full of shit.
Dexter – You know how Lisa keeps refusing to, you know—
Jake – That’s none of your goddamned—
Alex – You’re wondering does she not love you enough? Is she not attracted to you? Is she justified in needing more time?
Jake – Alex, I’m warning you—
Dexter – Well, none of that’s really the issue.
Alex – We all decided that she should keep saying no just to play on your insecurities.
Dexter – But take my word for it, she’s dynamite!
Alex – Oh yeah.
Jake – What?! Fuck you!
Dexter – And remember how no one invited you to the Super Bowl party at Ken’s house?
Jake – Get the fuck out of here!
Alex – Were we mad at you for something? Did we not want you there? Are we really even your friends?
Jake does not respond.
Dexter – All part of the plan.
Jake – What plan?!
Alex – We’ve made a pledge, Jake.
Dexter – We’re neither going to love you as much as you’d like nor cut you adrift.
Jake – Wh—why!?
Alex – The truth is, nobody really likes you.
Dexter – Especially me. I hate you.
--
Excerpt from 'paranoia,' a one act play originally written in March 2001.
Enter Alex and Dexter
Jake – Hey guys, long time no see! What are you doing he—wait, you guys know each other?
Dexter – Oh. Yeah, we go way back.
Jake – Really? I had no idea.
Alex – Yeah, well small world.
Jake – I’ll say. So what’s going on?
Dexter – Well, funny you ask, Jake.
Alex – Maybe you should sit down.
Jake – What is it?
Dexter – We, uh, have to tell you something.
Jake – Ok.
Alex – I’m not quite sure how to explain this, because it’s kind of—
Dexter – Complicated.
Alex – Right.
Jake – Ok…Well?
Dexter – It’s actually pretty funny.
Alex – (to Dexter) Well, maybe to us. But it won’t be to him.
Dexter – Yeah, I guess you’re right.
Jake – Are you going to tell me or what?
Alex – Jake—(deep breath) Jake, we’ve been meeting.
Jake – Who? Meeting about what?
Alex – Us.
Dexter – About you.
Jake – I don’t understand. You’re not making any sense.
Alex – Jake, let’s face it. You’re a disaster.
Jake – What?
Dexter – You expect too much.
Alex – You’re too demanding.
Jake – What are you talking about?
Alex – (shrugs shoulders) Uh, how do I say this.
Dexter – The paper.
Alex – Oh yeah! (takes out sheet of crumpled paper from his pocket and starts to read) Let’s see…“you’re self-centered, oversensitive, and unreasonable.”
Jake – What are you saying? What are you reading?
Dexter – Jake, we’ve been meeting.
Jake – Guys—
Alex – Thursday nights.
Jake – (agitatedly confused) What? Who?
Alex – Well, a bunch of people.
Dexter – Who all know you.
Jake – What’re you meeting about?
Alex – Well, lots of things, really.
Jake – Alex—
Dexter – Uh, you, mainly. We meet to talk about you.
Jake – What do you mean you meet to talk about me?
Alex – Uh, well, every Thursday, we get together and talk about you.
Dexter – Behind your back.
Jake – Guys, this isn’t funny. Cut the fucking bullshit.
Alex – Yeah, your analyst said you might react like this.
Dexter – Oh yeah, that’s right! He’s good.
Jake – My analyst?
Alex – Yeah. Theodore comes, too.
Dexter – To our meetings.
Alex – He warned us about your irrational temper.
Jake – My irrational temper? What the fuck are you doing meeting with my analyst?
Dexter – Renee invited him to come.
Alex – To our meetings.
Jake – Renee? My ex-girlfriend, Renee?
Dexter – Yeah, that’s the one.
Jake – Ren—Renee is meeting with my analyst?
Alex – Well, we’re all meeting. Not just Renee and Theodore.
Jake – Who else?!
Alex – Lots of people.
Dexter – Lisa, for instance.
Jake – My girlfriend??
Alex – Yeah. She and Renee get along great.
Jake – What the fuck is going on?
Alex – Oh, right. I knew this was going to difficult.
Dexter – It’s complicated.
Alex – Right.
Jake – What are these meetings?
Alex – Ok, let’s try this again.
Dexter – Just stick to the paper.
Alex – Right. So basically (reading again from crumpled paper) “we feel that you are self-absorbed and have too grandiose a sense of self-importance.”
Jake – No I don’t!—what are you reading?
Dexter – Oh, those are just some notes.
Alex – So we remember what we’re supposed to tell you.
Jake – What you’re supposed to tell me?
Dexter – On the group’s behalf.
Jake – What group?!?
Alex – Aren’t you paying attention?
Dexter – Listen up, Jake, this is important.
Alex – Yeah. (continues reading) “You also seem to believe that you are ‘special’
and unique, and can only be understood by other ‘special’ or high-status people.”
Jake – What are these meetings about!?
Dexter – Well, basically we meet to talk about you.
Jake – Behind my back, yes, you said that. But why??
Alex – Well, basically we’re sick of your shit.
Jake – What shit?
Alex – (reading again) Uh, “you frequently show arrogant, haughty behavior and attitudes and are often envious of others or think they are envious of you. ”
Jake – That’s not tru—would you stop reading!?!
Alex – I just want to get it right.
Dexter – We spent the entire meeting last time making sure we got this worded right.
Jake tears the paper out of Alex’s hand.
Jake – Without reading from this goddamned paper, tell me what these meetings are about!
Alex – (agitated) See, this is exactly what we mean. Every month we consider disbanding, but every month you justify our meetings with your continued—
Dexter – Pomposity and self-importance.
Alex – Exactly!
Jake – Every month? How long have you been meeting?
Alex – (counting on his fingers, then looking up at Dexter) About 4 years now?
Dexter – Yeah, it’ll be 4 years in March.
Jake – What have you been doing for 4 years!?
Alex – Well, basically, we devise strategies.
Jake – Strategies?
Dexter – Ways to keep you mired in perpetual uncertainty.
Jake – I don’t believe this.
Dexter – Well, it’s true.
Alex – We all conspire to keep you frustrated and discontent.
Jake – You guys are full of shit.
Dexter – You know how Lisa keeps refusing to, you know—
Jake – That’s none of your goddamned—
Alex – You’re wondering does she not love you enough? Is she not attracted to you? Is she justified in needing more time?
Jake – Alex, I’m warning you—
Dexter – Well, none of that’s really the issue.
Alex – We all decided that she should keep saying no just to play on your insecurities.
Dexter – But take my word for it, she’s dynamite!
Alex – Oh yeah.
Jake – What?! Fuck you!
Dexter – And remember how no one invited you to the Super Bowl party at Ken’s house?
Jake – Get the fuck out of here!
Alex – Were we mad at you for something? Did we not want you there? Are we really even your friends?
Jake does not respond.
Dexter – All part of the plan.
Jake – What plan?!
Alex – We’ve made a pledge, Jake.
Dexter – We’re neither going to love you as much as you’d like nor cut you adrift.
Jake – Wh—why!?
Alex – The truth is, nobody really likes you.
Dexter – Especially me. I hate you.
--
Excerpt from 'paranoia,' a one act play originally written in March 2001.
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