Matter Out of Place
Topics: pop culture, relationships
Earlier this week we were talking with friends about life lessons that stood the test of time—what do you remember and why do you remember it?
A lesson I remembered was a story about my Grandma Buist. It had to be in 2010-2011 because both me and my-sister-in-law were relative newlyweds. We were at Panera enjoying some You-Pick-Two action between shopping stops. My sister-in-law and I were comparing notes on our husbands’ respective laundry routines. My grandma made a comment about how she thought it was just awful we didn’t do our husbands’ laundry.
If you know me or my sister-in-law, you can imagine how this went over. In short, like lead. Brett and Tyler are more than capable of doing their own laundry. We have our own stuff to get done! And our own jobs! And our own social plans!
My grandma shook her head and rolled her eyes. My mom laughed.
That lesson came to mind in part because orange peel theory is all the rage on social media these days, and the lessons align rather well. My grandma wasn’t suggesting I don’t have obligations, she was suggesting that partnership is more important than independence just for the sake of it. Mary cared about Dale and she cared about their sheets being ironed, so she lovingly always did their laundry. Turns out, Grandma was onto something.
Enjoying the sentiment of the story, Brett asked if there are any other such stories. Are there other life lessons that stand out to me? Lessons I reference? Wisdom I cling to?
I don’t even have to think about it. There is a phrase-slash-lesson I repeat in my head at least a few times a week.
At GVSU, I had to take a behavioral philosophies class to fulfill the advertising subsection of my public relations degree. I took the class with my friend Brandy, and I have to be honest, we spent most of it watching a grainy livestream of HSN on her laptop. Ethos, pathos, logos…sure, whatever, look at those Jessica Simpson pumps!
But GVSU wanted us to get something out of those tuition dollars, so twice a semester, each student was required to teach part of the seminar. We were assigned specific chapters and supporting essays, and were tasked with understanding the content so well, we could teach it to our peers.
I don’t remember my second teaching moment, but I absolutely remember the first one. I was assigned to dissect and explain the conscious and subconscious psychology of “matter out of place.”
It’s exactly what it sounds like: the idea that context matters for things to fit. A Halloween costume on the Fourth of July bristles the nerves a little. Mardi Gras decor on Thanksgiving doesn’t feel right. Wearing red on the day of the UM-OSU football game is a faux pas of the highest order. But all of those elements as a stand-alone concept are great! Who doesn’t love Halloween costumes? Fireworks on the Fourth of July are mandatory. King Cake hits differently in February, and pumpkin pie tastes better in November.
Jerry Seinfeld has a bit where he talks about matter out of place, re: hair. We’ll kiss the top of someone’s head but will recoil if even one rogue strand of keratin touches our food! There was a hair in the egg salad! (Seinfeld, season 6, episode 7 - “The Kiss Hello”)
That disgust, that twitchy feeling that crawls up your spine, that’s the psychology of “matter out of place.” People have emotional reactions when things aren’t in the right context. Hair in a ponytail is categorically different from hair in the soup.
To that point, the context of this conversation matters. We were discussing these things on vacation. Meaning at the end of the trip, we were headed to one of the worst places on earth: the airport. Very few places make me (or anyone) feel as squirmy as a mass transit station. It’s the epitome of being “matter out of place.”
Like I said, it’s a phrase that permeates my psyche. Even on days when I’m not traveling, it helps me tackle my anxieties, and it helps hold me accountable to my emotional reactions. Am I upset because this is upsetting, or am I upset because this feels out-of-place compared to my expectation? Is this a kiss-the-head situation or a hair-in-my-food situation? It reminds me to slow down, take a minute, and rationalize what and why something feels off.
As I write this, I’m sitting under an escalator in Fort Lauderdale airport on a decorative planter box. The airport is crazy busy and there is nowhere else for us to go.
Another thing that class taught me was the habit of shifting perspective. If I can recognize and name what feels out of place, I can manipulate my mind to follow suit. There’s no room for me past security, and hotel check-out was hours ago. The airport lobby is the only place that will house me for the next 2-4 hours. Sure, I’m out of place, but this is one of the only places I’m allowed to be out of place, meaning I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
I’m still “matter out of place,” but less out of place than I was when I felt like I was in airport purgatory. I have fresh air, an iced coffee, and my luggage handy (meaning I can get those packed beach towels out to sit on!). My circumstances didn’t change, I simply made myself see it as a head-kiss instead of hair-in-my-food.
It isn’t a Hallmark sentiment from a pathetic encouragement card. I didn’t change my thinking on a zen level or manifest my happiness. To be honest, I think a lot of people would call my tactics deranged if they knew what really convinces me to change perspectives. It isn’t a game of “look at the bright side” it’s a game of “look at the dark(er) side.” Is there something that could be more unpleasant than this? Absolutely. I could be sitting on the floor next to the boarding gate with a sneezing passenger to my left and an inaccessible electrical outlet to my right. Thank heavens I didn’t draw that short straw. I’ll take the marble planter under the escalator with Brett and my wheelie bag, thanks.
I asked Brett if he had any similar anecdotes the equivalent of my “matter out of place” recalibrations. He said yes, his often-repeated life lesson is, there’s no such thing as free lunch. Everything comes with terms of service; everything has an underlying cost. Even something as nice as a vacation is going to have a built-in penalty.
I laughed out loud because if that isn’t the perfect reflection of our marriage, I don’t know what is. We are both pessimistic pragmatists who constantly remind ourselves that even if something doesn’t belong, we can rationalize our way into making it fit. Nothing is free. No action is truly neutral. Without context, life is a big mess of confusion. By accepting that premise, we can work together on the fix, even in a forgotten corner of an airport lobby.
And that’s why my grandma did the laundry—when someone never makes you feel out of place, you should always do what you can to give them a free lunch. Sometimes that free lunch looks like rerouting IP addresses to secure airport WiFi and sometimes it looks like doing the laundry.
Now please excuse me, Brett is grabbing another round of coffees and I’m in charge of laying out the beach towels. We’re going to hunker down and watch Mad Men on his laptop for a few hours until it’s time to board the plane.
