What you see is what you get.

Talking About Fight Club

May I never be complete.

May I never be content.

May I never be perfect.

Deliver me, Tyler, from being perfect and complete. – page 46, Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk

It would probably sound odd to you if I were to tell you that if there were such things as fight clubs, I would have to think- really think- about whether or not to be involved.

It would sound odd to you for a fairly obvious reason.

Well, I told you. And it sounded odd, didn’t it?

It’s not Ikea furniture that makes me weary and restless.

Anatomy isn’t destiny, let’s not be silly. I don’t believe I have a role to fill, a divine obligation to fulfill certain duties related to home and hearth. I don’t want kids, and I don’t buy Ikea furniture.

But in a relationship, if it’ll be anyone’s job to see to it that the house smells nice and the pillows are fluffy, dollars to donuts that job will be mine. I can’t feel trapped by those little nice things even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to, at the risk of sounding too much like a traditionalist. Any man of mine will come home to a pleasant and comfortable environment, if I have anything to say about it.

It’s not Ikea furniture that makes me weary and restless.

It’s the fact that the thought of being hit scares me witless.

And fear- now that wears on you, that wears out its welcome very fast. I have not been struck since I was a little kid being spanked and I have never had to strike someone else. Violence frays the edges of my world ; I’m extremely aware of it because it’s going on in the world right now as I type and you read.

Violence seems to me a matter of probabilities. Every day, there are certain odds that it will come and get me. I live in a low-crime area, which lowers the odds and I am most grateful to God for that. The probability is never 1 but it is never 0, either. That fact unnerves me. Especially when I consider violence’s wondrous variety.

If there were such a thing as a fight club- as imagined by Chuck Palahniuk- and you walked through the door, the probability of encountering violence would shoot up to a solid ONE.

But it would be because you made it so.

Control and fear can’t exist side by side. If I could take control of a very serious thing and decide that there was going to be a fight- me and someone else, let’s make it another woman, let’s be realistic- and I was going to get hurt but not as a victim, not as a victim, and I couldn’t be further from feeling like a victim-

Would it feel good?

I fear being punched because it’s never happened to me.

I fear being attacked because I’m not certain I could fight back.

But in a fight club, as imagined by Chuck Palahniuk, punching happens to you and you fight back because in a warped twist on love and trust, the fight is anything but violence.

Give me control and I will not fear anymore. Give me a fair fight. Give me a microcosm where the term “innocent bystander” does not exist.

I would have to think- really think- about whether or not to be involved.

Because to pretend that my fear isn’t important… to aim for completion, contentment and perfection… would be embracing complacency and nothing offends the universe more than that. Nothing will get you killed faster.

But I do aim for peace and that is why I would have to think about about it.


September 30, 2009 Posted by | Personal Essay | , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment