Back in 1990 during my first year in college when I was living in the dorms, there was this dorky, awkward kid from South Dakota who lived across the hall from me. I don’t remember much about him, except for the fact that he was always talking about Watertown and listening to the The Church. For some strange reason, people are always confessing their problems to me and asking for my unsolicited advice. Over the past couple years whenever they do so, I always think of a few lines from The Church’s “Under the Milky Way”,
I wish I knew what you were looking for
I might have known what you would find
Besides that fact that I am often sought after for this “unsolicited” and un-compensated counsel, no one ever actually follows the advice that I give them. In any event, here is my abridged story:
Both of my parents are, in very general terms, “care givers” by profession and vocation, and are two of the most approachable people that I have ever known. And where one lacks, the other abounds and vice versa in almost every sense; henceforth begetting the schizophrenic personality that is me. As a result, almost everywhere I go, I get people seeking advice or confessing. Oh, I could tell you a few stories from old ladies, co-workers, friends, family, and people that I barely know who tell me their intimacies — none of which I will reveal here at this time.
Most often “good advice is when someone tells you what you want to hear”. Isn’t that why someone asks for help? Or is all advice-seeking a confession and a confession an end unto itself? Thus, the actual advice is irrelevant and is almost never followed. It is the act of seeking advice that is important.
But when a friend comes to me for help, sometimes I just wish I really knew what they were looking for.
Grave Error 