rolling with the punches

Dutch boarder tells me that he wants to move out. Tomorrow he's looking at alternative accommodation. He feels like he now knows what he needs in terms of accommodation. This is the second housing agreement he's broken since arriving in Australia. We agree to break the contract if he pays another 2 weeks rent, giving us time to find a replacement. Just now, at midnight, he argues why he may be justified in paying less. He says he's concerned about his finances. "What if I can take the other place tomorrow". What if you can't? I tell him why we need to agree on a date. I'm speaking firmly, rationally, explaining that his actions affect us and we need a firm plan so that we all know our responsibilities for the next two weeks. He sees that he is disrupting us. I tell him that yes, this is very disruptive to me. He mentions his sore back (blaming our futon) as a potential escape clause. "You might think I'm looking for excuses". "Yes, I think you're looking for excuses". He's a little taken aback, and we end, eventually, with him agreeing to 2 weeks. Though he calls me from my room one more time, to try one more line of argument. I feel my own Dutch blood boil. I re-clothe and re-enter the lounge room. "No". I speak of fairness. And fairness for all of us. His request is not fair on us. His actions have consequences. If he has to pay double rent for one week, then he has to wear that as a consequence of his actions, his decisions, and his breaking of the agreement. We have offered a compromise. Others would not. This is only fair. "Good night".

Who is this me that's spouting such things? This diplomatic and somewhat paternal voice sometimes arises. It's me having an adult moment in which I appeal to fairness, responsibilities, and courtesy. It's me getting what I want. It's me enjoying my own performance of getting what I want. Most days I wouldn't use these words and justifications, and it seems unlikely that they would work if someone used them on me. Though I probably wouldn't ask for such leniency. I'd probably 'accept the consequences' of changing my mind. Maybe that's my Irish blood.

Trying to locate where these moments come from is as ridiculous as racialising them. Highlighting the bloodlines of my deeds is just one tactic among many (like appealing to my star sign, the habits of my parents, or the environment in which I grew up) to tell myself and others that my deeds have roots deeply embedded in this person I call myself. But maybe my performance is just a tactic for getting what I want, here and now - always a momentary eruption. Such performances are guided by certain events or feelings (like tonight's tiredness). Sometimes I witness them as though I'm still in yesterday's armchair.