This is the doodle I drew today during the First Ever Parker-Viny-Travis Summit on the Unpredictablility of the Collective Future. Said Parker, "Every available spot is filled up with something." Quipped Travis, "Uh-oh -- I think I see a blank space down there at the bottom corner. Better do something about that, quick!"
Our little crayon convention, graciously hosted by Travis, took place because yours truly had been feeling like the three of us needed to have a talk.
A couple of weeks ago, Travis got into a funk about the future. Parker and I are going to be moving, and Travis has been trying to decide what to do in light of this relocation: he doesn't really want to move with us, but he would also like to maintain his relationship with me. So, he hit on the brilliant plan of going into business for himself, so that he would be able to have offices and/or residences in two different cities. (As he explained it to me, "I think I may be polygeographical.") However, it was beginning to seem to Travis like he couldn't bank on this plan working out: "I don't know if Parker is going to be happy in a new city -- what if you guys move there, and he decides it's not what he hoped it would be? So there I am putting all this energy into starting an office in a new place, only to have you guys pull up stakes again."
"Would you be willing to talk to Parker about this directly?" I asked. "Sure," said Travis.
A few days later, Parker was talking about how much he had relished traveling around this past summer, never being in the same place for more than three or four days at a time. "Travis thinks you aren't going to be happy anywhere," I said. "Yeah," said Parker, "I've been noticing that lately there's this Parker-is-just-unhappy-with-everything-so-let's-not-listen-to-him thing that's been going on. You seem hostile to everything I have to say about the future, and I think it's because of Travis."
"Would you be willing to talk to Travis about this directly?" I asked. "Sure," said Parker.
Ergo, today's Summit. We even had a babysitter for the event: Parker's mother, Helen, is here for the holidays. "But I really wish I could come and take notes," she said. "I need some good dialogue for my new play."
Right from the get-go, there was the problem of positioning: where to sit? We eventually decided we should all sit on the floor, even though it was uncomfortable. Otherwise, it would have been two of us (which two?) on the sofa, and one on the chair. We started out as an equilateral triangle, but Parker drifted closer to me as the conversation went on. Travis busied himself getting tea, distributing cushions, fixing himself a plate of food, and doing up some dishes. I spent a lot of time filling my piece of paper with little crayon doodles.
It was a good conversation, but it didn't get anywhere much until almost three hours in, when it was already past time for me and Parker to relieve his mother from kid-duty. I had suddenly gotten very vehement about not wanting to be financially dependent on anyone -- not Parker, not Travis. It's time for me to start a career in earnest, now, and I want to be certain that nothing interferes: this is what I was expressing.
And then there I was, standing, facing the mirror that runs the length of Travis's living room wall, with Travis on one side of the couch and Parker on the other, both of them facing me, and Travis said, "Just to be honest, now that we've had this discussion, I'm feeling far more discouraged about the possibility of working on anything together. I'm not going to have kids with you. I'm not going to live in your house. Now, it seems clear that I'm not going to be building a business together with you. So what's left? There's no room for me in your future." And Parker said, "That reminds me of how I've been feeling, probably for the last year: Viny has her own agenda, and it's not about anyone else."
And I thought, "Oh good: they see now that they're not really in each other's way: they're actually experiencing something similar." And, "Oh damn: they see now that I'm the real problem."
It was really uncomfortable.
"So...We've decided that Viny does not play well with others?" I asked. They laughed. Ruefully.
We concluded our Summit without coming to any real conclusions, and bid our farewells amicably -- tenderly, even, grateful that we took the opportunity to learn something about ourselves, about each other -- but there was something about the shared interaction that made each of us feel just a little bit sadder, just a little bit more lonely.
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