Fishbowl surfing

I've learned that human beings are intrinsically curious. This isn't news, per se, because I grew up in the American south. Everyone wants to know everyone else's personal business. In my current locale I might as well be a goldfish in a glass bowl. The wall I'm leaning on is glass, and it is directly opposite the doors of the elevator. People pool to wait in front of the elevator doors (oh, no, Chinese people do not queue!) and while they are waiting, well, they want to know what foreigners look at online. Yes, sir, I'm chatting on Skype and typing a blog. Unless your English is better than most, this is going to be a boring show to watch. It is more obvious when people spot me as they exit the elevator and walk out of their ways to look at my screen. This is amusing. I recall a time a couple months ago when I was reading A Clockwork Orange on the Beijing subway. A woman who was with her boyfriend really wanted to know what I was reading. She kept leaning over to look at my book's page. Then she squatted down and turned her torso sideways to see what the cover said. I grew a bit tired of this bizarre spectacle, so I flashed the cover of the book at her. She looked at it quizzically for a moment and then proceeded to hang all over her boyfriend. I don't know why we do this. We always want to know what others are thinking and reading. What are we all listening to in those awfully ubiquitous white earbuds?

Why do I want to know?

I think we probably identify ourselves by what we think. That, in turn, is heavily influenced by what we take in. Are my thoughts better than yours? Where do yours come from?


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I'm reading an anthropological book right now. Bear with me. It's called Purity and Danger and it was written by Mary Douglas.

T