Saturday, 2 May 2020

Calculating chaos and calculating control

I've not looked at all into this yet, though I probably will unless something distracts me (visiting brother's grave :/ ), but I've been fascinated by the thought of someone thinking they can actually be in control lately. To me, that is an entirely alien concept, an almost humorous abstract. I'll explain why. And why it is not.

First of, I don't believe in control, at all. Trying to control anything is a fool's errand, exhausting and a path to disillusion. It can be faked in small snippets, like if you arrange your existence very carefully and coldly, and in very small manageable bites: what you will wear, eat, do, how you will look, talk, fuck, where you will go and what you will gather there. Iron routine and very brief adjustment periods. People who can act like that are very professional and extremely collected. Think cruel CEOs or professional soldiers or some such. But those tend to have uncomfortable vents and can snap rather catastrophically, either burn out or end up strangling a hooker.
     Now, a lesser version of this is living a non-complicated life and not being overly emotional. The General does that - he makes the most of a predictable routine, he switches off completely when he is off work and his enjoyments are comfortable and non-invested. Almost at any time he is able to think through a challenge and will not be thrown by unusual obstacles. Except on rare occasions, during which his reaction has to be nipped in the bud, or it will throw him completely. But these are tiny things. Very private things. Like that time he was without a driver's licence for four hours. It was hilarious how upset he was and trying not to show it. Probably, because it was easily solvable, trivial problem, his psyche opted for an exaggerated response. He would never (re)act like that if someone was injured or something was truly the matter. Let's not forget we are talking about a man who carried a box of (possible) anthrax away from his coworkers so as to protect them or a man who immediately medically assisted a colleague who got his hand ungloved by a truck latch.
    Me, on the other hand, am a completely and utterly surrendered to the circumstances, have no idea what will happen tomorrow,  have two dozen interchanging interests and for every problem or situation which arises, my reaction is hysterical, tantrum-y and making a mess three times worse by making it about myself. That is just how it is. You do not call me in to smooth things over. You call me in to kick the bucket and see what floats up or splashes over while someone else does the fixing. 

During G's third year studies, one of the classes was Risk Assessment. It's a cash camel for private detectives who aren't characters in noir crime novels. Safety engineers are very sought after. Even just to create an algorithm to calculate all the elements would be awesome. Because there are just SO many idiotic things to think about when telling people how to avert damage. On paper, it's as easy as any engineering. IRL, it's a blender and often a complete goo comes out. 
     A classroom example we discussed was a party at a night club. As per rules, any gathering of more than 50 people requires a qualified bouncer, a camera and exit doors which open outwards. There have been cases of people dying crushed or fire starting and people panicking because the windows didn't open properly or someone tore off the handle and doors got stuck, or stairs were made of an iron grid and women in high heels would fall running down and get hurt by moving crowd ... and so on. Extinguisher instructions weren't clear. Air vents were obstructed by a speaker. There are A LOT of moving parts, but someone with a good nose for things going wrong is able to sign under a good plan to avoid most dark scenarios. 
      Just saying someone thinking in risk management terms would make for an interesting character. I can hardly imagine someone like it, though. Chaos easily. Chaos ranger ... somewhat. But an agent of control and order? That sounds like an angel begging to be buggered by a catastrophe. Which is a complete cliche before I even begin. 

0 comments: