Cycle I: Coming on Strong
The Hidden Voice
Record ~ Kawaii · 16 (v1.00)
THE HOUSE OF ZAN — Zan
♡ YOASOBI — Gunjō
OPENING: 私が何者か、あなたが決めるの？
I like labels.
There.
I’ve said it.
I like knowing where things belong.
I like finding what I’m looking for.
I appreciate a collection that doesn’t require an archaeological expedition every time I want something.
Everything has its place.
Everything is beautifully organized.
Everything makes sense.
Wonderful!
(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
Unfortunately, people keep ruining this excellent system.
Apparently, they don’t appreciate being organized.
How inconsiderate.
Take me, for example.
Am I quiet or outgoing?
Serious or playful?
Practical or imaginative?
Sweet or difficult?
Excuse me?
Those last two aren’t even opposites.
I can be both.
I’m quite talented.
But suppose I tell somebody that I enjoy quiet afternoons.
They might imagine a person who speaks softly, avoids excitement, and prefers keeping her opinions to herself.
And then I open my mouth.
Surprise!
Your peaceful afternoon has been interrupted by a woman with seventeen opinions about something you hadn’t realized was controversial.
Don’t worry.
I’ve brought supporting arguments.
Some of them are excellent.
ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ
But I really do enjoy quiet afternoons.
That part was true.
The rest?
Well, I didn’t say any of that.
You did.
And now we’re having a disagreement over a person you invented.
A very complicated situation.
Especially considering I’m standing right here.
One little description can become an entire imaginary person.
You hear something familiar.
You recognize a pattern.
You remember somebody you’ve encountered before.
And suddenly—
Oh! I know exactly what you’re like!
Do you?
How exciting!
Please tell me.
I’d love to know what I’ve apparently been doing with myself.
Actually, don’t.
I suspect some of it will be terribly inaccurate.
And I’ll have to correct you.
Which could take all afternoon.
Still, I understand the temptation.
I’ve done something similar myself.
I notice a few details, form an impression, and begin filling in the spaces.
It’s surprisingly entertaining.
My imagination is very efficient.
Sometimes it produces a complete personality before the other person has finished introducing themselves.
Remarkable!
Accuracy varies.
But the presentation is usually excellent.
The difficulty is remembering that an impression isn’t the same thing as understanding somebody.
And I must admit, that’s easier to remember when I’m the one being misunderstood.
When I’m doing the understanding?
Well.
I’m usually quite confident.
Usually.
But I don’t think the answer is to throw away every label.
That would be ridiculous.
I’d never find anything.
And some descriptions are important to people.
A word might express something they’ve spent a long time trying to understand.
It might describe an identity that matters deeply to them.
It might help them find other people with something meaningful in common.
It might make an otherwise difficult conversation easier to begin.
I wouldn’t want to take that away.
Especially not because I’ve decided I know a better description.
Although I often have suggestions.
Some more welcome than others.
But here’s something I find peculiar.
A person can choose a word because it expresses something important about them.
Then somebody else can hear that exact same word and decide it means a dozen things the person never said.
How did that happen?
Where did all the additional information come from?
Was there a secret meeting?
Did somebody distribute instructions?
Why wasn’t I invited?
( •̀⤙•́ )
I enjoy a good meeting.
Provided it accomplishes something.
And there are refreshments.
But apparently, all somebody needs is one description.
The rest arrives courtesy of their imagination.
Which reminds me of Sailor Neptune and Sailor Uranus.
In the original Sailor Moon, they’re a couple.
But an English dub decided to call them cousins.
Cousins!
Σ(ﾟДﾟ)
Well, that’s convenient.
Change the description, and apparently everybody is supposed to forget what’s actually happening.
An impressive strategy.
Not particularly convincing.
But impressive.
I wonder whether Neptune had anything to say about that.
She strikes me as somebody with opinions.
Good ones, probably.
Although I’d prefer to hear them from her.
That’s the trouble with deciding who somebody is before allowing them to speak.
You might end up with a perfectly organized understanding of a person who doesn’t actually exist.
And the real person is still standing there.
Possibly becoming irritated.
Understandably.
I know I would.
In fact, I already am.
On principle!
But I have to be careful.
Because I enjoy understanding people.
And sometimes I enjoy being right about them even more.
That’s not necessarily the same thing.
I can recognize a familiar characteristic.
I can notice a pattern.
I can make a reasonable guess.
But the moment I decide there’s nothing left to discover, I’ve probably stopped paying attention.
And that seems like a terrible way to satisfy my curiosity.
Imagine meeting somebody interesting and immediately deciding you already know everything worth knowing.
What would you talk about?
The weather?
I like the weather.
Occasionally.
But I don’t need an entire relationship with a weather report.
I’d rather discover something unexpected.
A peculiar interest.
An opinion I haven’t considered.
A reason somebody enjoys something I find completely unappealing.
I might even change my mind.
Don’t look so surprised.
It happens.
Not frequently enough to become predictable.
But it happens.
And I appreciate having the opportunity.
Which brings me to another problem with putting people into categories.
They keep changing.
Honestly!
You think you’ve figured somebody out, and suddenly they develop a new interest.
Or reconsider an old opinion.
Or discover something about themselves they hadn’t understood before.
Very inconvenient.
Particularly for the person responsible for maintaining the labels.
I sympathize.
But I also think that’s rather wonderful.
There are things I know about myself.
Things I like.
Things I don’t.
Things I’m confident about.
Things I have absolutely no intention of changing just because somebody else would find it convenient.
And there are things I haven’t discovered yet.
I don’t find that embarrassing.
Why should I?
I’m not a completed encyclopedia.
Even if I would make an exceptionally interesting one.
Beautiful illustrations.
Excellent commentary.
A few controversial entries.
ʕ•̀ᴥ•́ʔ
Anyway, suppose I discover something new about myself.
Perhaps I simply have something to add.
Or perhaps something really has changed.
I’m allowed.
Other people are, too.
I might not appreciate every change.
Someone I once enjoyed spending time with might develop interests that no longer fit particularly well with mine.
Or I might discover that someone I’d dismissed too quickly is considerably more interesting than I expected.
Neither possibility is guaranteed.
That’s part of what makes knowing people different from organizing a collection.
The collection generally stays where I put it.
People have their own ideas.
Sometimes dreadful ones.
But they’re entitled to them.
And I’m entitled to decide whether I want to keep listening.
What I don’t want is somebody assuming that because they understand one thing about me, they’ve understood everything.
Especially if they haven’t even asked what that one thing means.
I wouldn’t mind explaining.
Depending on the question.
And the person asking.
And whether they’re actually interested in the answer.
Because there’s another little detail we shouldn’t forget.
I don’t owe everybody an explanation.
Neither does anybody else.
Sometimes a description is enough.
Sometimes a person wants to tell you more.
Sometimes they don’t.
But being curious about somebody doesn’t mean they’re required to satisfy that curiosity.
I can ask.
They can answer.
Or not.
And I can decide what to do with whatever information they’re comfortable sharing.
See?
We’ve solved the entire problem!
…
No?
Apparently, some people will keep making assumptions even after I’ve explained.
Wonderful.
I was hoping for a little more cooperation.
But I suppose I can’t decide how everybody else thinks.
I’d be very busy if I tried.
For one thing, I’d have to review an extraordinary number of opinions.
Some of them would require extensive revisions.
Others should never have been submitted.
And I’d inevitably discover somebody who believed they could do a better job organizing the world than I could.
Which would be outrageous.
I’d like to meet them.
We’d have a very interesting argument.
Perhaps we’d even agree on something.
But I wouldn’t count on it.
You know, I was going to suggest sending all these unnecessary assumptions to Neptune.
Beautiful planet.
Very far away.
Plenty of space.
An excellent destination for opinions nobody requested.
But that seems unfair to Neptune.
It hasn’t done anything wrong.
Besides, somebody would immediately decide that because Neptune is blue, every blue planet must be exactly like it.
Then we’d have to establish a committee.
There would be paperwork.
Disagreements about what qualifies as sufficiently blue.
And before long, we’d have an entire organization explaining what Neptune is allowed to be.
Goodness.
We haven’t even visited, and already we’re giving the planet an identity crisis.
┐(￣ヘ￣)┌
Perhaps we should leave it alone.
I think I’d appreciate the same consideration.
Not because I don’t want to be understood.
I do.
I rather enjoy it when somebody notices something about me that matters.
Especially when they’ve paid enough attention to understand why.
But I’d also like them to remain curious.
There’s probably more to discover.
Some of it impressive.
Some of it ridiculous.
A few things I’d prefer to explain myself.
And perhaps something neither of us has considered yet.
I wouldn’t want to rule that out.
After all, I haven’t finished meeting everybody.
I haven’t finished discovering everything I might enjoy.
And I certainly haven’t finished developing opinions.
Imagine the tragedy!
An entire future without another interesting disagreement.
Unacceptable.
So, what kind of person am I?
Well.
I can tell you a few things.
I’m curious.
I’m thoughtful.
I’m occasionally unreasonable.
I have excellent taste in music.
And I’m remarkably patient with people who insist on being wrong.
…
Don’t interrupt.
I’m describing myself.
But I suppose you might notice something different.
Perhaps we’ll agree.
Perhaps we won’t.
Either way, I don’t think one description will settle the matter.
Which is fine with me.
Now, if you absolutely insist on putting me in a box, I have one condition.
Make sure it opens.
I have no intention of staying in there all afternoon.
There are interesting people outside.
And I have questions.
ENDING: Do you get to decide who I am?