Interpersonal Communication #2

Identity. Apparently, everyone builds one by disclosing information, including personality traits, habits, likes/dislikes, and many other things. In reading chapter 2 of my textbook, I found it fascinating to hear of theories, such as the "looking-glass slef" and others. But one of the most applicable and interesting things was learning about "corrective facework."

So what does that mean, you ask? Well, let's start at the very beginning ("a very good place to start..." Shit, now I have that stupid Sound of Music song stuck in my head. Moving on!). Our identity is defined by how we present ourselves and what we want others to think of us, but also the feedback we get of what others actually think of us. Hence, if something is said or done that we don't like--because we don't want that to be our identity--we try to slap a band-aid on it to "save face," so to speak. This is what corrective facework means.

There are different types of corrective facework (or so I read... I wouldn't really have bothered to give my actions labels, but my textbook tells me to). These can include apologies, accounts (trying to justify what happened), humor, avoidance, aggression, and remediation. Now, if anybody other than someone knowledgeable in the Communication field were to read this, it would look like jargon. Hence, allow me to explain with an example from my own life (and an irritating example at that... Why must I re-hash situations that pissed me off the first time? Anyway, rant over):

When I think of traits that I consider to make up my identity, a few come to mind: devilishly handsome, insanely boring, hopelessly romantic, genius, incredibly shy, athletic, sardonic. Ok, so anyone who knows me knows that I'm kidding... Many of these do not apply, but there is one trait that I consider a key aspec of my identity: my organization skills. I have always been (and, had it not been for this situation, probably would have always continued to be) a freakishly organized person. However, at the start of last semester, I had way too much crap that I moved into my dorm room, and I couldn't find the time to get everything put away. As such, I had a gigantic pile of papers, clothing, and assorted paraphernalia in the center of my room for much of last semester. Believe me, this pile of crap (approximate diameter: 5 feet) occupied as much of my mind as it did my room, yet I had nary a second to spare to actually sort through it and clean it up. Bear with me, this story has a point.

Things get interesting when I realize how much this pile actually affected my identity. All last semester, friends would come over and say things like, "Wow Coburn, you are so disorganized!" and "Coburn, do you ever clean?" As much as I tried corrective facework--whether I told them that I was planning on cleaning that night or I had just gotten sick and had no energy to be organized--I started to realize that this pile was single-handedly commiting identity theft! Was I really an organized person? I was certainly not being validated by others who knew me, so maybe that meant I was actually someone different than I thought I was.

The corrective facework I tried started with excuses, but it moved to humor as the semester went on. "Oh, I'm thinking of putting a blanket on the pile and letting people use it like a beanbag chair," or "Yeah, that pile is so organized that your brain can't even understand what it's seeing"... Alas, all was to no avail -- I eventually turned to aggression. Thanksgiving rolled around, and my once-organized self was now incredibly threatened by what friends were saying. I no longer felt like "organized" was a part of my identity, as my "corrective facework" had been anything but. So I grabbed a big plastic bag, picked up all the papers and shit, threw everything into the bag, and marched out to the dumpster. Problem solved! :)

I should stop writing now, though. I haven't been able to find my watch in months, and I can't think of what I could have done with it.