To anyone who's known me, and wondered why I'm always so tight-lipped and mysterious - even going back to my childhood - it's 100% a symptom of my anxiety. I'm terrified of being judged, even for the stupidest little things. But the older I get, the more I'm getting tired of hiding. It seems to me that with every candle that gets added to your birthday cake, that's one less fuck to give - in my case, about upsetting the people who don't appreciate who I am and what I represent. What's the point of even living, if you never get the chance to be yourself, and let people get to know the real you?
I'm not saying that's an excuse to be an asshole, or a criminal, but that's never been my personality anyway. I'm just tired of walking on my tippy toes around conservatives and conformists who don't like the way I dress, who are insecure of their own sexuality, who are afraid of the human body in a way that is patently sexist, and who want to legislate away my access to health care, my prospects for a fulfilling (if not lucrative) career in the erotic arts, and my ability to pursue the activities that bring me happiness.
The longer I live, the more likely it's going to be that I'll piss off the wrong person, and experience harassment, be violently attacked (I don't know why conservatives are so intimidated by liberals, because my fear is literally that a conservative will pull out a gun and shoot me), or run afoul of a power-drunk fascist with a badge. Not because I'm a villain or I want to hurt anyone. But because I'm different. And people don't understand that. Maybe they would understand better if I expressed myself more. But that's really hard to do when it feels like doing so puts an enormous target on your chest. So much for freedom of speech.
I know it's the nature of anxiety to exaggerate one's fears, and I wonder sometimes if I have a habit of externalizing my own limitations - because it's easier to blame someone else for holding you back than to break through the blockage in your own mind. The truth is, I'm more afraid of self-criticism (on Bojack Horseman, I related to "Stupid Piece of Shit" more than the depression and the alcoholism) than I am of any low IQ, middle school-educated, gun-toting, Trump-flag waving, ape in human clothing.
Maybe I'm just getting bored of this lifestyle of hiding all the time, and want to shake things up, come what may. But I can tell you that the more radicalized the conservative segment of our culture becomes, the more emboldened it makes me, and the less willing I am to capitulate to their fragile sensibilities in order to avoid making waves. The louder you spew hatred, the more I want to shove the thing you hate in your face, no matter the danger to myself. The time for diplomacy is over. You can kill me, but you'll never change who I am. There exists a line that, when crossed, disenfranchised minorities will be willing to lay down even their lives for justice. And dangerous though that may be, it could be argued that keeping them pacified in their disenfranchisement is the more insidious alternative.
All of this was covered in Stellan Skarsgård's speech in Andor. I've also likened it in the past to the character of the donkey in Animal Farm. He's intelligent. He just wants to lead a simple life on the farm. As far as he's concerned, the new boss is same as the old boss. Until the animals let the pigs load up the horses for the glue factory, thinking they're just going to the hospital - because they literally can't read the writing on the wall (or the side of the truck). And the donkey loses it - he just can't keep silent any longer. It's why all wise men fear the anger of a patient man. And I'm starting to get angry. With each step I take toward my own grave, I have a little bit less to lose. And there's still so, so much to be gained.
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
29 July, 2024
05 December, 2023
My Solipsistic Nightmare
"Am I stranded on an island?
Or have I landed in paradise?"
- Paradise by Miley Cyrus
The list of social media sites I've voluntarily left keeps growing (who knew mainstream platforms like Reddit and Twitter were no less cesspools of immaturity than 4chan?), and the list of places that are left, for me to interact with people and express my ideas in a way that helps me feel like I'm not living in a solipsistic nightmare, continue to dwindle. Under normal circumstances, this would be the point where I would question whether the problem is me. Am I a toxic human being? But isn't that an overly harsh assessment? I know I have some pretty serious personality flaws, but I've spent my whole life working on them. And while I can be very judgmental of people (I believe this is a symptom of my OCD and perfectionism - I hold myself to impossibly high standards, and it bothers me when other people fail to do the same), above all I want to be liked, and I strive very hard to be diplomatic in terms of seeing different sides of an argument.
It's kind of funny, the phrase I used above - 'solipsistic nightmare'. In philosophy, solipsism refers to the belief that you are essentially the only conscious being in the world, and everyone else is a figment of your imagination. It's a fascinating concept, but a potentially dangerous belief. I more commonly like to use it symbolically, to refer to a world where you're effectively alone - there just isn't anybody else around. Like a post-apocalypse where you're the only survivor. Obviously, this isn't a technically accurate description of reality - all you have to do to disabuse yourself of that notion is look at the people all around you. But emotionally, there are times in a person's life where they really do feel alone, even if they're surrounded by people. Like how you can sometimes feel "alone in a crowd". This is especially true in the internet world of broadcast platforms and the interminable quest for likes, and exponentially moreso if you've ever had the subtly traumatic experience of being shadow-banned.
The reason I think it's funny that I've described solipsism as a nightmare, is that as a sufferer of crippling social anxiety, I can empathize to a certain extent with Sartre's claim that "hell is other people". I usually consider being alone to be my own personal form of paradise. It's not that I hate people, it's just that social interactions cause me existential pain. And the most direct escape from that pain is to be detached from other people. (Not exactly the Hedgehog's Dilemma - where you avoid opening up to people in order to prevent getting hurt - but very similar). I learned long ago that whenever I talk to people, I tend to frame my responses in a way that's optimized toward ending the conversation. In the back of my mind, I'm thinking "this is a stressful experience and I want to end it quickly." It's instinctual; I don't do it consciously. It happens even when I don't WANT it to happen.
"I've been one poor correspondent;
I've been too, too hard to find;
but it doesn't mean you ain't been on my mind."
- Sister Golden hair by America
So I have a complex whereby I've convinced myself that I don't deserve to have other people in my life. Because I'm not a good friend. I don't correspond, I don't stay in touch - honestly, I dread doing those things because they legitimately terrify me. And if that's the cost of not being alone, I'm not even sure it's worth it. The problem is - and this is something I've learned over the years - I can never be truly happy alone. It's stupidly obvious when other people say it, but in my case, it's no less true than it sounds counterintuitive to me. Although living alone in a post-apocalyptic wasteland sounds like heaven in my head, I know I would hate it. Because even sitting in my room by myself, I find that I crave interaction with other conscious minds. I just mostly can't stand getting it...
So I'm in a bind. I can either be lonely and comfortable, or I can be stimulated and stressed. And I know social media isn't the greatest place to be social - but you have to also consider my handicap. I can't talk to people. Maybe I could learn, if I had the right training - but I haven't a clue how to go about getting that. I talked to a therapist once and we both agreed that I would benefit from in situ therapy, but it simply wasn't a service he was able to offer. You have to realize, the only reason I can express myself to the extent that I do now, is because I've trained myself through relatively low-risk online interactions. Being face-to-face with someone, hearing the sound of their voice - these are triggers that turn me into jelly. It's not even a reaction I choose out of fear; my brain literally functions differently in the presence of other people (I mean, I don't have scientific proof of this, but I'm confident that I could get it if the right experiments were performed). I used to be scared even to post a text reply on a crowded message board, but I've gotten over that, through years of experience.
One thing that's stuck with me, though, is that I am incredibly sensitive. I'm not proud of it - although it does, ironically, help me to empathize with other people. I know how much it hurts to be in emotional pain, therefore it's something I hate to think of causing other people, and when I see it being inflicted on someone by a third party, I feel sympathetic, even sometimes when the assault is justified and the victim "deserves" it. For example, #cancelculture and toxic Twitter. Yes, people should be held accountable for their behaviors as well as their opinions (just because you're entitled to have one doesn't mean I have to respect what it is). But there are a LOT of people being bullied online without justification (not any real one, anyway). But even the people who DO deserve it, I feel like the punishment is often cruel and unusual. And it just creates this "shoot first" culture that glorifies abuse and harassment and creates far too much collateral damage, where words are habitually taken out of context, and innocent people are tarred and feathered merely by guilt of assocation (or for committing the crime of "non-condemnation" - which is the rational approach to a situation you don't possess sufficient knowledge of).
"The time is gone, the song is over;
thought I'd something more to say."
- Time by Pink Floyd
You know what? This is getting a bit long, and I don't feel like talking about how much it hurts when rude people say mean things on the internet right now, so I'm just gonna end it here. I may or may not continue it later. And if you couldn't be bothered to read even this much because there are more than three sentences to a paragraph, and the paragraphs all exceed Twitter's 288 character limit, well then... I have no words for you.
Or have I landed in paradise?"
- Paradise by Miley Cyrus
The list of social media sites I've voluntarily left keeps growing (who knew mainstream platforms like Reddit and Twitter were no less cesspools of immaturity than 4chan?), and the list of places that are left, for me to interact with people and express my ideas in a way that helps me feel like I'm not living in a solipsistic nightmare, continue to dwindle. Under normal circumstances, this would be the point where I would question whether the problem is me. Am I a toxic human being? But isn't that an overly harsh assessment? I know I have some pretty serious personality flaws, but I've spent my whole life working on them. And while I can be very judgmental of people (I believe this is a symptom of my OCD and perfectionism - I hold myself to impossibly high standards, and it bothers me when other people fail to do the same), above all I want to be liked, and I strive very hard to be diplomatic in terms of seeing different sides of an argument.
It's kind of funny, the phrase I used above - 'solipsistic nightmare'. In philosophy, solipsism refers to the belief that you are essentially the only conscious being in the world, and everyone else is a figment of your imagination. It's a fascinating concept, but a potentially dangerous belief. I more commonly like to use it symbolically, to refer to a world where you're effectively alone - there just isn't anybody else around. Like a post-apocalypse where you're the only survivor. Obviously, this isn't a technically accurate description of reality - all you have to do to disabuse yourself of that notion is look at the people all around you. But emotionally, there are times in a person's life where they really do feel alone, even if they're surrounded by people. Like how you can sometimes feel "alone in a crowd". This is especially true in the internet world of broadcast platforms and the interminable quest for likes, and exponentially moreso if you've ever had the subtly traumatic experience of being shadow-banned.
The reason I think it's funny that I've described solipsism as a nightmare, is that as a sufferer of crippling social anxiety, I can empathize to a certain extent with Sartre's claim that "hell is other people". I usually consider being alone to be my own personal form of paradise. It's not that I hate people, it's just that social interactions cause me existential pain. And the most direct escape from that pain is to be detached from other people. (Not exactly the Hedgehog's Dilemma - where you avoid opening up to people in order to prevent getting hurt - but very similar). I learned long ago that whenever I talk to people, I tend to frame my responses in a way that's optimized toward ending the conversation. In the back of my mind, I'm thinking "this is a stressful experience and I want to end it quickly." It's instinctual; I don't do it consciously. It happens even when I don't WANT it to happen.
"I've been one poor correspondent;
I've been too, too hard to find;
but it doesn't mean you ain't been on my mind."
- Sister Golden hair by America
So I have a complex whereby I've convinced myself that I don't deserve to have other people in my life. Because I'm not a good friend. I don't correspond, I don't stay in touch - honestly, I dread doing those things because they legitimately terrify me. And if that's the cost of not being alone, I'm not even sure it's worth it. The problem is - and this is something I've learned over the years - I can never be truly happy alone. It's stupidly obvious when other people say it, but in my case, it's no less true than it sounds counterintuitive to me. Although living alone in a post-apocalyptic wasteland sounds like heaven in my head, I know I would hate it. Because even sitting in my room by myself, I find that I crave interaction with other conscious minds. I just mostly can't stand getting it...
So I'm in a bind. I can either be lonely and comfortable, or I can be stimulated and stressed. And I know social media isn't the greatest place to be social - but you have to also consider my handicap. I can't talk to people. Maybe I could learn, if I had the right training - but I haven't a clue how to go about getting that. I talked to a therapist once and we both agreed that I would benefit from in situ therapy, but it simply wasn't a service he was able to offer. You have to realize, the only reason I can express myself to the extent that I do now, is because I've trained myself through relatively low-risk online interactions. Being face-to-face with someone, hearing the sound of their voice - these are triggers that turn me into jelly. It's not even a reaction I choose out of fear; my brain literally functions differently in the presence of other people (I mean, I don't have scientific proof of this, but I'm confident that I could get it if the right experiments were performed). I used to be scared even to post a text reply on a crowded message board, but I've gotten over that, through years of experience.
One thing that's stuck with me, though, is that I am incredibly sensitive. I'm not proud of it - although it does, ironically, help me to empathize with other people. I know how much it hurts to be in emotional pain, therefore it's something I hate to think of causing other people, and when I see it being inflicted on someone by a third party, I feel sympathetic, even sometimes when the assault is justified and the victim "deserves" it. For example, #cancelculture and toxic Twitter. Yes, people should be held accountable for their behaviors as well as their opinions (just because you're entitled to have one doesn't mean I have to respect what it is). But there are a LOT of people being bullied online without justification (not any real one, anyway). But even the people who DO deserve it, I feel like the punishment is often cruel and unusual. And it just creates this "shoot first" culture that glorifies abuse and harassment and creates far too much collateral damage, where words are habitually taken out of context, and innocent people are tarred and feathered merely by guilt of assocation (or for committing the crime of "non-condemnation" - which is the rational approach to a situation you don't possess sufficient knowledge of).
"The time is gone, the song is over;
thought I'd something more to say."
- Time by Pink Floyd
You know what? This is getting a bit long, and I don't feel like talking about how much it hurts when rude people say mean things on the internet right now, so I'm just gonna end it here. I may or may not continue it later. And if you couldn't be bothered to read even this much because there are more than three sentences to a paragraph, and the paragraphs all exceed Twitter's 288 character limit, well then... I have no words for you.
07 November, 2023
Chains and Things
I'm not superstitious as you know, but in a lifetime, your mind is bound to wander. I'd just as soon curse God for the handicap I was born with, than view it as if it serves some greater purpose. The important point there is that it's a matter of perspective. Whether I'd be happier believing in a divine purpose isn't evidence for God, it's just psychology. And what if I simply don't have enough of an impaired conscience for that kind of self-deception? Do I then deserve to suffer?
Even if there WERE a God and hardship served a valuable purpose, more good could be accomplished in a two-way relationship with this all-powerful being, instead of one-way devotion to a negligent and absentee guardian, whose divine bounty depends on the uncharacteristically petty demand for blind faith without acknowledgement.
I don't pray, and I don't go to church, but if you don't think I've spent most of my life aching for a God-like being (that doesn't exist - because I would know if He did) to guide me and console me, then you're being offensively ignorant of my circumstances (but no surprise there). It's not *really* God I have a quarrel with, because God is just a fictional character invented by man. It's the men who follow God that I truly can't stand.
Anyway, that was a bit of a digression. I've considered many times whether my handicap is an obstacle I was meant to overcome - one that's supposed to make me stronger, or perhaps more sensitive - or if it's a kind of restraint holding me back from going on a rampage through this life. I often wonder what I might have accomplished if my situation had been different.
Maybe it's egotistical to think things would be significantly different. Maybe I'd just be a little bit happier, living a normal life, raising a family, working a decent job. But I am ambitious. I'm not ruthless, but I'm not lazy, either. I want. When Kramer asks George, "do you ever yearn?" - that's me. I just wish I wasn't held back by forces that - and I hate to admit this, but it is demonstrably true - are even stronger than the limitless reach of my desires. What's the point? Why was I born into these psychic chains?
But in reality, there is no meaning. No purpose. Other than what we invent for ourselves. The universe doesn't care if we live or die. All that we have and ever will accomplish will one day be dust in the wind. And a few millenia after that there won't even be dust or wind because the planet will be gone. All life will be gone. There may be other life at some point. In the vast expanse of time and space, there might even be separate sources of life that meet.
Or there might not. Regardless, nothing is eternal. The only thing that matters is the here and now - which, in a cosmic sense, extends beyond any one person's lifetime. There's no sense in squandering the limited resources we have, and accelerating ourselves toward our inevitable end. Our existence may be a tiny blip on the scale of time, but it's all we have.
The universe is a harsh and apathetic arena. Pain is inescapable. We should bless the fact that we are able to experience joy and pleasure - and we should not overextend ourselves to create further suffering over that fact. The void of space doesn't care which dog eats which dog, because all dogs will be consumed by it in the end. Why should we not, then, strive to create a puppy paradise in the interim?
If killing you would make me happier, and I had the power to do it, who's to say what would happen? The disadvantaged stand intrinsically upon higher moral ground, simply because they have not been exposed to the corrupting influence of power. We would all like to believe that we'd have the restraint to put the One Ring down, but I think it's better for our conscience if none of us were ever confronted by that choice.
Democracy is ideologically equivalent to socialism. There is no such thing as equality so long as power imbalances persist. The only good ruler is the one who doesn't want the crown - and such a ruler would hand the crown off at the first chance, likely to one of the many clamoring to wield the power it represents. I think about all of these things when I think about my chains. But it doesn't get me any closer to a resolution.
21 May, 2008
Gradiation
As my friend reflected to me yesterday (at least I think it was yesterday...), it's been two years now since I graduated from college. That means I'm entering my third year as a ronin...er, NEET. In other words, I'm a failure of a human being. Well, at least as far as society is concerned (and believe me, the feeling is mutual). So why is it so hard for me to "get a life"?
Supposedly, high school prepares you for college, and as far as I could tell, college prepares you for graduate school. So how do you get prepared for the real world? I would have gone to graduate school, but my aptitude for the sciences, which I had been training in, tapered off. I'm still not sure if it's simply a matter of losing interest, or if my mental faculties have in some way been compromised, but nowadays I don't even want to think about a math problem - and I used to enjoy them so much!
We could go into why this happened, but the reasons are many, and not very clear. Part of it has to do with grinding mindlessly through pages-long equations, with little perspective. Part of it has to do with the realization that studying science will not lead to finding the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything. (And if you tell me the answer is forty-two, I'll smack you). And part of it has to do with meeting a girl so much smarter than me, that I figured if I was struggling through problems she could manage with ease, then there was no point in me being a scientist as long as people like her were around.
So I decided to focus on a more creative subject, where I could make contributions without being the best in the field. I turned to my hobby, playing guitar. I graduated college with no plans for the future ahead, except the vague idea that I was gonna learn to play well enough to get by. Maybe start a band, maybe join a band, but ultimately, hopefully, to play some gigs and make some money doing something I enjoy.
A year ago, I had resolved to complete my first real album of original compositions, but when the first year anniversary of my college graduation rolled around, I was far from finished writing and recording the material planned for the album. It was exciting at first, trying to record my songs, but it eventually became very dull working in the studio, and I completely lost interest in wrestling with trying to record a good track. I enjoy playing the guitar, but I don't even have the motivation to pick it up every day, which is really something I should do if I plan on being a guitarist. Put another check in the "failure" column.
The real problem here is my inability to interact with the world around me. Specifically, the human part. I feel woefully inept at wedging my way into the world, with no confidence to strike out on my own. And yet, I'm terribly fearful and generally clueless when it comes to reaching out for help. On the one hand, there seems to be a focus on independence - relying on one's own strengths to make it in the world and do what needs to be done. I do not have this quality. On the other hand, there's a concession for getting by "with a little help from my friends". Power of love and friendship, and all that. But I'm not good with people, and I don't have a support network. Think of all those tv shows and movies where the hero derives his strength from his friends to win the day. What about the lonely guy sitting in the alley? How can you expect him to be a hero?
Supposedly, high school prepares you for college, and as far as I could tell, college prepares you for graduate school. So how do you get prepared for the real world? I would have gone to graduate school, but my aptitude for the sciences, which I had been training in, tapered off. I'm still not sure if it's simply a matter of losing interest, or if my mental faculties have in some way been compromised, but nowadays I don't even want to think about a math problem - and I used to enjoy them so much!
We could go into why this happened, but the reasons are many, and not very clear. Part of it has to do with grinding mindlessly through pages-long equations, with little perspective. Part of it has to do with the realization that studying science will not lead to finding the answer to the ultimate question of life, the universe, and everything. (And if you tell me the answer is forty-two, I'll smack you). And part of it has to do with meeting a girl so much smarter than me, that I figured if I was struggling through problems she could manage with ease, then there was no point in me being a scientist as long as people like her were around.
So I decided to focus on a more creative subject, where I could make contributions without being the best in the field. I turned to my hobby, playing guitar. I graduated college with no plans for the future ahead, except the vague idea that I was gonna learn to play well enough to get by. Maybe start a band, maybe join a band, but ultimately, hopefully, to play some gigs and make some money doing something I enjoy.
A year ago, I had resolved to complete my first real album of original compositions, but when the first year anniversary of my college graduation rolled around, I was far from finished writing and recording the material planned for the album. It was exciting at first, trying to record my songs, but it eventually became very dull working in the studio, and I completely lost interest in wrestling with trying to record a good track. I enjoy playing the guitar, but I don't even have the motivation to pick it up every day, which is really something I should do if I plan on being a guitarist. Put another check in the "failure" column.
The real problem here is my inability to interact with the world around me. Specifically, the human part. I feel woefully inept at wedging my way into the world, with no confidence to strike out on my own. And yet, I'm terribly fearful and generally clueless when it comes to reaching out for help. On the one hand, there seems to be a focus on independence - relying on one's own strengths to make it in the world and do what needs to be done. I do not have this quality. On the other hand, there's a concession for getting by "with a little help from my friends". Power of love and friendship, and all that. But I'm not good with people, and I don't have a support network. Think of all those tv shows and movies where the hero derives his strength from his friends to win the day. What about the lonely guy sitting in the alley? How can you expect him to be a hero?
15 April, 2008
Dream Psychology
I made a revelation last night.
When I'm faced with an unfamiliar situation, I get very anxious, particularly when I don't know what's expected of me - considering that I'm always too afraid to ask. So what happens is, I feel like no matter what I end up doing, it'll be wrong, and I'll either be scolded, or people will think badly of me, both of which are outcomes worse than death. So I freeze up, because every potential course of action is flawed, and I can't bring myself to commit to any of them, and whenever possible, I turn around and back away from the issue, and I hide from it, trying to delay the inevitable, but only inevitably prolonging the agony.
But then I realized, even if something bad were to happen, it's not the end of the world.
My words can't possibly convey the deep level of meaning behind all of this, which is part of the reason I gave up songwriting. I mean, it all makes sense from a logical standpoint, but getting yourself to actually /believe/ something is a feat that requires some kind of miracle.
Anyhow, it's not like I actually think the world is gonna end if I do something wrong or screw something up or disappoint someone - that would be ridiculous - but the amount of stress I experience /is/ proportional to such a catastrophic outcome, and not proportional to the actual situation. In fact, that's what the psychs call "catastrophizing".
It's one thing to talk about it and say, "that makes sense". But last night I was thinking about it, and I actually realized that the amount of stress I experience over something so small is ridiculous. So I told myself "it's not the end of the world", and it makes me feel a little better. So what? The world's not gonna come crashing down around me. Whatever happens, even the worst-case reasonable scenario can't be all that bad - certainly not as bad as I'm treating it.
So then I ended up having a very vivid dream about the same issue. I had been involved in something illegal with the mob - they forced me to do something that I didn't want to do, but I felt responsible for it, and furthermore, I was certain that if the authorities found out, regardless of my circumstances, I'd suffer a fate worse than death.
So I was convinced that the only option for me was to kill myself. And the mob helped me in giving me the freedom to kill myself before getting captured by the authorities. I flew around in a helicopter, planning to crash it, but then I decided I wanted to spend my last moments somewhere that meant something to me, so I flew to Deep Creek Lake.
Then, there were other people around, and I wanted so badly to kill myself and end it all, but I just couldn't do it. I bashed an acoustic guitar against a dresser, and said that I wanted to do the same thing to my head, to bash my skull to pieces, but that I couldn't bring myself to do it. It was very intense. A feeling I'm very familiar with, though not usually related to killing myself - the intense desire to do something or have something or be something, but not having the power to make it so.
Anyhow, a revelation came to me, and suddenly I realized that even if I was captured by the authorities, it wouldn't be so bad, it certainly wouldn't be as bad as ending my life. In fact, I discovered that the mob had tricked me, and that instead of helping me, they were using me, trying to get me to kill myself, most likely because I knew something that would compromise them, and they figured it'd be easier to let me kill myself than to murder me. And I felt so much better.
The force that I thought was protecting me, the source of my stress - that avoidance and catastrophizing - wasn't helping me, it was actually hurting me, and deceiving me. It's not my friend, but my enemy. It does not speak the truth, but lies. And I must not continue to listen to them.
When I'm faced with an unfamiliar situation, I get very anxious, particularly when I don't know what's expected of me - considering that I'm always too afraid to ask. So what happens is, I feel like no matter what I end up doing, it'll be wrong, and I'll either be scolded, or people will think badly of me, both of which are outcomes worse than death. So I freeze up, because every potential course of action is flawed, and I can't bring myself to commit to any of them, and whenever possible, I turn around and back away from the issue, and I hide from it, trying to delay the inevitable, but only inevitably prolonging the agony.
But then I realized, even if something bad were to happen, it's not the end of the world.
My words can't possibly convey the deep level of meaning behind all of this, which is part of the reason I gave up songwriting. I mean, it all makes sense from a logical standpoint, but getting yourself to actually /believe/ something is a feat that requires some kind of miracle.
Anyhow, it's not like I actually think the world is gonna end if I do something wrong or screw something up or disappoint someone - that would be ridiculous - but the amount of stress I experience /is/ proportional to such a catastrophic outcome, and not proportional to the actual situation. In fact, that's what the psychs call "catastrophizing".
It's one thing to talk about it and say, "that makes sense". But last night I was thinking about it, and I actually realized that the amount of stress I experience over something so small is ridiculous. So I told myself "it's not the end of the world", and it makes me feel a little better. So what? The world's not gonna come crashing down around me. Whatever happens, even the worst-case reasonable scenario can't be all that bad - certainly not as bad as I'm treating it.
So then I ended up having a very vivid dream about the same issue. I had been involved in something illegal with the mob - they forced me to do something that I didn't want to do, but I felt responsible for it, and furthermore, I was certain that if the authorities found out, regardless of my circumstances, I'd suffer a fate worse than death.
So I was convinced that the only option for me was to kill myself. And the mob helped me in giving me the freedom to kill myself before getting captured by the authorities. I flew around in a helicopter, planning to crash it, but then I decided I wanted to spend my last moments somewhere that meant something to me, so I flew to Deep Creek Lake.
Then, there were other people around, and I wanted so badly to kill myself and end it all, but I just couldn't do it. I bashed an acoustic guitar against a dresser, and said that I wanted to do the same thing to my head, to bash my skull to pieces, but that I couldn't bring myself to do it. It was very intense. A feeling I'm very familiar with, though not usually related to killing myself - the intense desire to do something or have something or be something, but not having the power to make it so.
Anyhow, a revelation came to me, and suddenly I realized that even if I was captured by the authorities, it wouldn't be so bad, it certainly wouldn't be as bad as ending my life. In fact, I discovered that the mob had tricked me, and that instead of helping me, they were using me, trying to get me to kill myself, most likely because I knew something that would compromise them, and they figured it'd be easier to let me kill myself than to murder me. And I felt so much better.
The force that I thought was protecting me, the source of my stress - that avoidance and catastrophizing - wasn't helping me, it was actually hurting me, and deceiving me. It's not my friend, but my enemy. It does not speak the truth, but lies. And I must not continue to listen to them.
09 March, 2008
Journal 017
Last night was kind of damp, and it was raining off and on towards the morning. I remember lying in bed, thinking to myself it'll snow again before it starts to really get warm - it always does. Well, I wasn't anticipating it so soon, but I woke up today to yet another fresh layer of snowfall. I'm sure this won't be the last snowfall of the season, though I am already anticipating the soothing showers of spring.
It's surprising that Easter is so early this year - right on the tail of the vernal equinox. But it's convenient that it would decide to ride on the heel of the pagan festival of Ostara (or Eostar) - the celebration of said equinox. Still, I'm used to it being sometime in April, so this is a little unusual. And then St. Patrick's Day is like a week before Easter, which is ridiculous. Can't these people spread their holidays out a bit better? In general pagan observance, there are 8 significant celebratory dates spread fairly evenly throughout the year. Well, the only reason I'm complaining is that I have ideas for my music log to honor the various holidays, and *way* too many holy-themed songs to play before Easter.
And March is also a busy month for birthdays in this immediate family, involving both of my brothers' birthdays as well as my mother's birthday. Second only to the late January, early February stretch which holds my birthday, my dad's birthday, and, I believe, also my grandmother and uncle's birthdays. Anyhow, I hate the whole thing about gift-giving. Doing something nice for a person you care about is one thing, but being obligated to purchase some commercial commodity for a specific day, or face the risk of being ridiculed or even victimized, is another thing entirely. I mean, going out and celebrating is nice - you spend time with the people you care about, and that's the most important gift, right? I don't believe in cards either, though. It just seems such a phony way of showing appreciation. Here's a cheap item you're just gonna throw away after looking at, with artwork I didn't draw, and some nice words I didn't write, but it's the thought that counts, right? At any rate, my one brother just spent $400 on CD's - and he's trying to pursue an ascetic lifestyle, and my other brother has enough money to buy anything he could want that I would ever think of buying him, and I don't even know him that well anymore, and the interests he does have I'm clueless about - sports, mainly. So to me, it just seems kind of pointless. And yet, the pressure to perform remains. They both got me something for my birthday, so it'd be tantamount to a slap in the face if I didn't reciprocate.
Today's episode of Millenium (for me, anyway) was good. I think I'm more than halfway through the second season now. I was lamenting the fact that Frank's wife Catherine isn't in it as much now that they've split up after the events of the first season cliffhanger. She really is a good character. Not as good as Frank Black, of course, but still good, just what you would expect from the woman that would marry Frank. Although, their relations have been pretty frustrating, since they seem to be drifting apart for the wrong reasons. The Millenium Group itself is proving to become more interesting as the series continues on. Still lots of mystery there. I was excited about this episode, because for once there was some real tension developing between Frank and the group, and at this point, although for the whole time the group has been portrayed as the good side, I'm wondering if there's maybe something more sinister going on underneath it all than what one might expect. The episode itself was a rather interesting "Into The Wild"-ish story, about a kid who, before entering college, entered instead into the Alaskan wilderness to find a much more fulfilling life. I'm really enjoying this series.
Keeping on that thread, a couple days back I saw the Jose Chung episode of Millenium. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, then you're out of luck. But just like the rather unique and entertaining episode of The X-Files which features Jose Chung, there's a similar episode in Millenium. I love how the titles of these two episodes so perfectly and succinctly describe the basic theme of their respective series. For The X-Files, the Chung episode is titled "From Outer Space", and for Millenium, the episode is titled "Doomsday Defense". And really, that's what those two shows are all about!
Apparently, my dad's nickname among his buddies is/was at one time "Too Much". This is clearly reflected in the license plate he chose for the family van. Now, I don't know what earned him that nickname - although I can get a pretty good idea, judging from what I know of his personality, always taking on challenges and whatnot, and from *pieces* of stories from his younger days that have slipped out here and there - but recently I discovered an entirely different behavior of his that resembles that moniker. And it involves his cooking. Particularly when making sandwiches. They're always so huge, stuffed to the brim with ingredients, on huge buns, covered in grease. Personally, I think they're too masculine; I'd prefer a more feminine sandwich (if that makes any sense). But it's a matter of style, and at least the sandwiches are still usually good. But it's not just sandwiches. I enjoy the quesadillas he makes, but by god, they're like freaking overstuffed oreos or something (I'm sorry, I had a really hard time thinking of a good comparison). It's just that, the quesadillas I'm used to are mostly tortilla, with a nice hint of other ingredients inside, mostly chicken and cheese. But these ones my dad makes are truly beasts of the wild. And there's often huge portions, regardless of what's on the menu. My older brother eats a lot, but I'm on the other end of the spectrum, and I always feel pushed to eat more than I'd prefer, because you know, semiconsciously, I fear that not eating very much would give off the impression that I don't like the food or something, and I instinctively feel like that would be a personal attack against his hospitality. I know it's not a very reasonable reaction, but I can't help fearing that sort of outcome.
I was pretty tired last night, and I've noticed I've been getting to bed kind of late lately, and getting up at the last minute. I'd love to get to bed earlier, and last night I tried to. But god, I was exhausted, lying in bed, and what I really wanted was to just fall asleep, but something kept me up. Some nagging, restless feeling. I guess there's not much to say about it, I just can't get past the fact that when I have to get up, I'm tired enough to sleep for hours, yet when I go to bed, it's often an effort to cross that line into sleep mode. Why do I have to be sleepy when I have to get up, and not when my body needs to rest, and I want to go to bed? If only I could harness that power and apply it at the appropriate times. It's not like I'm never tired, that that energy's not there - it is, it's just not in the right place...
I finally finished reading the Rurouni Kenshin manga over the past few days. I had stopped at the end of the Kyoto Arc, and now I've finally read the (final) Jinchuu Arc. Very good. So that's where the stuff about Kenshin's past comes from - which is easily the best part of the animated series. I liked it a lot. Why does the ending have to be so depressing though? I mean, it's not like it's a particularly depressing ending. Ironically, I'd probably feel better if everybody died at the end - maybe that's why I like those tragedy endings better, because it's easier to say goodbye to a character when they've died and the world is destroyed, than simply walking away, knowing that their lives will go on, but that I won't be there to continue experiencing their pleasures and joys. It makes me feel sad, saying goodbye to those characters and their stories, and it makes me sad in real life, and I re-realize how lonely I am. And I think about my life, and I want to go out and have adventures, and make reality as interesting as fiction is. But it's not that interesting. And it's never that perfect or happy either. Still, even that intense feeling of nostalgia - whether it's for experiences you've had or only imagined - and that bittersweet, painful feeling of longing... I wouldn't give that up for anything. That feeling of being alive, and that desire to strive for more, to make an effort to try and relocate happiness, however futile the search may be. I just can't understand how anyone could treat life so lightly. But we don't all have the same experience of it, I fear.
I myself have questioned the merit of eliminating distractions. As much as I enjoy losing myself in fantasy lives, it keeps me away from my own, real life. I wonder if, I had nothing to do, at all, except lie in bed or strum the guitar or write stories from my own head, then maybe I'd strum the guitar and write stories from my own head more often. As long as I have a choice between doing those things, and doing something easier, with a more direct reciprocation of pleasure and satisfaction, I will almost always choose the easier path. I have this long list of things to do - largely, fantasy worlds to experience, in various forms - and I feel like I won't get anything really important done as long as those things are on the list. So I think about closing the list to new submissions, and burning through each item till it's empty. Then I could focus on what's important. But there are always new things, interesting things. What if I hadn't opened myself up to watching Berserk? There are a lot of things I enjoy, but I question how much impact they really have in my life, but a series like Berserk, I wouldn't want to live a life without having the experience of that series, given the choice. So if I close myself, what could I end up missing? Yet if I leave myself open, what important tasks in my life will I neglect? I have a really hard time balancing between the two, as I've explained. So I'm not sure where to go from here. But in the meantime, I still have that list of things that I intend to burn through.
It's surprising that Easter is so early this year - right on the tail of the vernal equinox. But it's convenient that it would decide to ride on the heel of the pagan festival of Ostara (or Eostar) - the celebration of said equinox. Still, I'm used to it being sometime in April, so this is a little unusual. And then St. Patrick's Day is like a week before Easter, which is ridiculous. Can't these people spread their holidays out a bit better? In general pagan observance, there are 8 significant celebratory dates spread fairly evenly throughout the year. Well, the only reason I'm complaining is that I have ideas for my music log to honor the various holidays, and *way* too many holy-themed songs to play before Easter.
And March is also a busy month for birthdays in this immediate family, involving both of my brothers' birthdays as well as my mother's birthday. Second only to the late January, early February stretch which holds my birthday, my dad's birthday, and, I believe, also my grandmother and uncle's birthdays. Anyhow, I hate the whole thing about gift-giving. Doing something nice for a person you care about is one thing, but being obligated to purchase some commercial commodity for a specific day, or face the risk of being ridiculed or even victimized, is another thing entirely. I mean, going out and celebrating is nice - you spend time with the people you care about, and that's the most important gift, right? I don't believe in cards either, though. It just seems such a phony way of showing appreciation. Here's a cheap item you're just gonna throw away after looking at, with artwork I didn't draw, and some nice words I didn't write, but it's the thought that counts, right? At any rate, my one brother just spent $400 on CD's - and he's trying to pursue an ascetic lifestyle, and my other brother has enough money to buy anything he could want that I would ever think of buying him, and I don't even know him that well anymore, and the interests he does have I'm clueless about - sports, mainly. So to me, it just seems kind of pointless. And yet, the pressure to perform remains. They both got me something for my birthday, so it'd be tantamount to a slap in the face if I didn't reciprocate.
Today's episode of Millenium (for me, anyway) was good. I think I'm more than halfway through the second season now. I was lamenting the fact that Frank's wife Catherine isn't in it as much now that they've split up after the events of the first season cliffhanger. She really is a good character. Not as good as Frank Black, of course, but still good, just what you would expect from the woman that would marry Frank. Although, their relations have been pretty frustrating, since they seem to be drifting apart for the wrong reasons. The Millenium Group itself is proving to become more interesting as the series continues on. Still lots of mystery there. I was excited about this episode, because for once there was some real tension developing between Frank and the group, and at this point, although for the whole time the group has been portrayed as the good side, I'm wondering if there's maybe something more sinister going on underneath it all than what one might expect. The episode itself was a rather interesting "Into The Wild"-ish story, about a kid who, before entering college, entered instead into the Alaskan wilderness to find a much more fulfilling life. I'm really enjoying this series.
Keeping on that thread, a couple days back I saw the Jose Chung episode of Millenium. If you have no idea what I'm talking about, then you're out of luck. But just like the rather unique and entertaining episode of The X-Files which features Jose Chung, there's a similar episode in Millenium. I love how the titles of these two episodes so perfectly and succinctly describe the basic theme of their respective series. For The X-Files, the Chung episode is titled "From Outer Space", and for Millenium, the episode is titled "Doomsday Defense". And really, that's what those two shows are all about!
Apparently, my dad's nickname among his buddies is/was at one time "Too Much". This is clearly reflected in the license plate he chose for the family van. Now, I don't know what earned him that nickname - although I can get a pretty good idea, judging from what I know of his personality, always taking on challenges and whatnot, and from *pieces* of stories from his younger days that have slipped out here and there - but recently I discovered an entirely different behavior of his that resembles that moniker. And it involves his cooking. Particularly when making sandwiches. They're always so huge, stuffed to the brim with ingredients, on huge buns, covered in grease. Personally, I think they're too masculine; I'd prefer a more feminine sandwich (if that makes any sense). But it's a matter of style, and at least the sandwiches are still usually good. But it's not just sandwiches. I enjoy the quesadillas he makes, but by god, they're like freaking overstuffed oreos or something (I'm sorry, I had a really hard time thinking of a good comparison). It's just that, the quesadillas I'm used to are mostly tortilla, with a nice hint of other ingredients inside, mostly chicken and cheese. But these ones my dad makes are truly beasts of the wild. And there's often huge portions, regardless of what's on the menu. My older brother eats a lot, but I'm on the other end of the spectrum, and I always feel pushed to eat more than I'd prefer, because you know, semiconsciously, I fear that not eating very much would give off the impression that I don't like the food or something, and I instinctively feel like that would be a personal attack against his hospitality. I know it's not a very reasonable reaction, but I can't help fearing that sort of outcome.
I was pretty tired last night, and I've noticed I've been getting to bed kind of late lately, and getting up at the last minute. I'd love to get to bed earlier, and last night I tried to. But god, I was exhausted, lying in bed, and what I really wanted was to just fall asleep, but something kept me up. Some nagging, restless feeling. I guess there's not much to say about it, I just can't get past the fact that when I have to get up, I'm tired enough to sleep for hours, yet when I go to bed, it's often an effort to cross that line into sleep mode. Why do I have to be sleepy when I have to get up, and not when my body needs to rest, and I want to go to bed? If only I could harness that power and apply it at the appropriate times. It's not like I'm never tired, that that energy's not there - it is, it's just not in the right place...
I finally finished reading the Rurouni Kenshin manga over the past few days. I had stopped at the end of the Kyoto Arc, and now I've finally read the (final) Jinchuu Arc. Very good. So that's where the stuff about Kenshin's past comes from - which is easily the best part of the animated series. I liked it a lot. Why does the ending have to be so depressing though? I mean, it's not like it's a particularly depressing ending. Ironically, I'd probably feel better if everybody died at the end - maybe that's why I like those tragedy endings better, because it's easier to say goodbye to a character when they've died and the world is destroyed, than simply walking away, knowing that their lives will go on, but that I won't be there to continue experiencing their pleasures and joys. It makes me feel sad, saying goodbye to those characters and their stories, and it makes me sad in real life, and I re-realize how lonely I am. And I think about my life, and I want to go out and have adventures, and make reality as interesting as fiction is. But it's not that interesting. And it's never that perfect or happy either. Still, even that intense feeling of nostalgia - whether it's for experiences you've had or only imagined - and that bittersweet, painful feeling of longing... I wouldn't give that up for anything. That feeling of being alive, and that desire to strive for more, to make an effort to try and relocate happiness, however futile the search may be. I just can't understand how anyone could treat life so lightly. But we don't all have the same experience of it, I fear.
I myself have questioned the merit of eliminating distractions. As much as I enjoy losing myself in fantasy lives, it keeps me away from my own, real life. I wonder if, I had nothing to do, at all, except lie in bed or strum the guitar or write stories from my own head, then maybe I'd strum the guitar and write stories from my own head more often. As long as I have a choice between doing those things, and doing something easier, with a more direct reciprocation of pleasure and satisfaction, I will almost always choose the easier path. I have this long list of things to do - largely, fantasy worlds to experience, in various forms - and I feel like I won't get anything really important done as long as those things are on the list. So I think about closing the list to new submissions, and burning through each item till it's empty. Then I could focus on what's important. But there are always new things, interesting things. What if I hadn't opened myself up to watching Berserk? There are a lot of things I enjoy, but I question how much impact they really have in my life, but a series like Berserk, I wouldn't want to live a life without having the experience of that series, given the choice. So if I close myself, what could I end up missing? Yet if I leave myself open, what important tasks in my life will I neglect? I have a really hard time balancing between the two, as I've explained. So I'm not sure where to go from here. But in the meantime, I still have that list of things that I intend to burn through.
06 March, 2008
A Little Self-Psychoanalysis
The bottom line is, I'm afraid to enter unfamiliar situations alone. That's why though I want to leave this house and find a place for myself outside in the world, I'm absolutely terrified to do so. What am I so afraid of? I don't have any confidence in my ability to depend on myself. I fear not being able to take care of myself, that I won't remember all the important things I need to do, or that I won't have the knowledge or the ability to do them. I'm afraid I'll end up lost and confused, with noone to turn to. Alone, and vulnerable.
And considering the way I am, these fears are not completely unfounded. Considering that I'm too nervous to call up a doctor and make an appointment, let alone go in for one; considering that I don't like going out and shopping for something because I'm afraid a salesperson will ask me what I'm looking for, and I'll feel uncomfortable interacting with a stranger... And I always feel bad walking out of a store empty-handed, partly because I feel bad not buying anything, and partly because I'm paranoid that they'll think I'm trying to shoplift.
And when it comes to bureaucracy, I'm clueless. I've gotten speeding tickets twice in my life. The first time wasn't too bad, beyond that depressing feeling of being 'punished' by our political 'parents', and that's because I was able to pay the ticket online. But the second time, the officer didn't write down a total charge, and so as far as I could tell, I had to go in and see somebody about it. It wasn't as bad as having to go to court, but even just having to find the building, get there during the day, and talk to the right people to get the matter settled, was a nightmare. It went perfectly smoothly, and I should be able to use that experience to bolster my morale, but instead, I severely dread ever having to do something like that again.
I don't want to have to depend on other people to guide me and show me the way and constantly tell me that I'm safe and everything will be alright, but that's exactly what I feel like I need. I hate this idea because it's so cliche, but I guess it makes some amount of sense - I'm like a child lost in an adult's world. I think back on the first day of the school year, throughout my childhood, especially when moving to a new school building, and that uncertainty about the environment, where things are located, who I'm gonna be surrounded by, what I'm expected to do... By the end of the year, and by the end of your tenure at a specific location, you get familiar with the area, and become comfortable. Think about your senior year of high school versus your freshman year, or your senior year of college versus your freshman year. You gradually come to master your environment, and the uncertainty gives way to comfort.
In that sense, the adult world is still very much unfamiliar to me, and uncomfortable. I can even imagine myself coming to master it, getting used to it, and seeing it as not such a threatening place - and sometimes I use that illusion when I'm forced out there, which may actually give other people the impression that I'm more in control than I really feel. But even so, everytime I'm faced with the reality or even just the thought of actually having to go out there, the uncertainty is right there. So I avoid it. Not going to school was never given to me as an option. I forced myself through it because I didn't even postulate the possibility of anything else. Being a child, and not being in control of my own decisions, there was no choice. But now, it's different. Despite all the pressure on me to get a job and to operate in society, I am in fact an adult now, and I am expected to be in control of my own decisions. Nobody is forcing me to work, and so the possibility of not working, and not being a significant part of society, even if unreasonable, exists, and it's the path of least resistance.
Psychiatrists, at least in the popular image, like to trace present problems back to past traumas. I remember when I was a young child, being separated from my mother for the first times - being dropped off at daycares, and preschool. I remember a feeling of absolute terror and despair. Being separated from everything that represented safety and comfort in my life, and being thrown into an unfamiliar situation with a bunch of strangers. Being lost and confused, feeling alone, and perhaps even abandoned. Although I may have gotten better at dealing with situations where I'm cut off from my lifelines - considering that it's rather hard to get through life without being exposed to those sorts of situations - that feeling of dread has never left me. I should be able to recognize that that daycare is not nearly as venomous as my fears make it out to be, and I can accept that on a logical basis, but deep down, my instinctive reaction is the same. I feel like if I go out into the world alone, something bad is going to happen; I won't be able to cope. My fear blows the entire situation out of proportion, and in the face of this drastic challenge, I turn and hide.
It's not rational.
"Adult child, don't hide, just run - go!"
And considering the way I am, these fears are not completely unfounded. Considering that I'm too nervous to call up a doctor and make an appointment, let alone go in for one; considering that I don't like going out and shopping for something because I'm afraid a salesperson will ask me what I'm looking for, and I'll feel uncomfortable interacting with a stranger... And I always feel bad walking out of a store empty-handed, partly because I feel bad not buying anything, and partly because I'm paranoid that they'll think I'm trying to shoplift.
And when it comes to bureaucracy, I'm clueless. I've gotten speeding tickets twice in my life. The first time wasn't too bad, beyond that depressing feeling of being 'punished' by our political 'parents', and that's because I was able to pay the ticket online. But the second time, the officer didn't write down a total charge, and so as far as I could tell, I had to go in and see somebody about it. It wasn't as bad as having to go to court, but even just having to find the building, get there during the day, and talk to the right people to get the matter settled, was a nightmare. It went perfectly smoothly, and I should be able to use that experience to bolster my morale, but instead, I severely dread ever having to do something like that again.
I don't want to have to depend on other people to guide me and show me the way and constantly tell me that I'm safe and everything will be alright, but that's exactly what I feel like I need. I hate this idea because it's so cliche, but I guess it makes some amount of sense - I'm like a child lost in an adult's world. I think back on the first day of the school year, throughout my childhood, especially when moving to a new school building, and that uncertainty about the environment, where things are located, who I'm gonna be surrounded by, what I'm expected to do... By the end of the year, and by the end of your tenure at a specific location, you get familiar with the area, and become comfortable. Think about your senior year of high school versus your freshman year, or your senior year of college versus your freshman year. You gradually come to master your environment, and the uncertainty gives way to comfort.
In that sense, the adult world is still very much unfamiliar to me, and uncomfortable. I can even imagine myself coming to master it, getting used to it, and seeing it as not such a threatening place - and sometimes I use that illusion when I'm forced out there, which may actually give other people the impression that I'm more in control than I really feel. But even so, everytime I'm faced with the reality or even just the thought of actually having to go out there, the uncertainty is right there. So I avoid it. Not going to school was never given to me as an option. I forced myself through it because I didn't even postulate the possibility of anything else. Being a child, and not being in control of my own decisions, there was no choice. But now, it's different. Despite all the pressure on me to get a job and to operate in society, I am in fact an adult now, and I am expected to be in control of my own decisions. Nobody is forcing me to work, and so the possibility of not working, and not being a significant part of society, even if unreasonable, exists, and it's the path of least resistance.
Psychiatrists, at least in the popular image, like to trace present problems back to past traumas. I remember when I was a young child, being separated from my mother for the first times - being dropped off at daycares, and preschool. I remember a feeling of absolute terror and despair. Being separated from everything that represented safety and comfort in my life, and being thrown into an unfamiliar situation with a bunch of strangers. Being lost and confused, feeling alone, and perhaps even abandoned. Although I may have gotten better at dealing with situations where I'm cut off from my lifelines - considering that it's rather hard to get through life without being exposed to those sorts of situations - that feeling of dread has never left me. I should be able to recognize that that daycare is not nearly as venomous as my fears make it out to be, and I can accept that on a logical basis, but deep down, my instinctive reaction is the same. I feel like if I go out into the world alone, something bad is going to happen; I won't be able to cope. My fear blows the entire situation out of proportion, and in the face of this drastic challenge, I turn and hide.
It's not rational.
"Adult child, don't hide, just run - go!"
03 March, 2008
Journal 014
Seriously, where did three days go?
Story time!
I learned how to add notes to photos in flickr today. Not that there's much to learn, although it was being buggy in Opera, so I ended up doing it in IE to make sure it would work right. But it's the first time I've ever actually added notes to a photo. Today's nude is a little more mundane than average, I think, but there's a neat little trick to it that wasn't actually inspired by, but perfectly mirrors in hindsight, the gimmick on the cover of Pink Floyd's experimental double album Ummagumma. I wonder how many of the few people that even see the photo will get the connection... I figured it was best to leave it a mystery and let the knowledgeable figure it out for themselves.
I know I already said that I didn't care /what/ people did as a result of seeing my nude photos, as long as it doesn't bother me - and I stand by that - but still, I'd like to hope that in the long run, my work receives more interest from artists, and actual nudists, than perverts. Not that I have a particular problem with the perverts, but it's just not the kind of people I'm looking to have a connection with. Hell, I'd love it if even just a woman got a kick out of my photos, regardless of intentions, but as far as I know (and I could be wrong), women, on average, aren't nearly as interested in seeing men naked as (straight) men are in seeing women naked. So where does that leave me? If you see naked men on the internet, what's your first assumption?
I'm 100% straight, and I'll admit I have homophobic tendencies. Though I'm straight, I'm not narrow-minded; I have no problem with other people who choose different ways to live their lives. What I /do/ have a problem with is largely a matter of image. The superficial argument goes something like this: I have enough trouble meeting girls as it is, I can't afford to let anyone have even the slightest doubt about my orientation. Then again, if you think about how much girls fawn over the gay guy, it seems like it'd be a nice way to weasel their affections, and in this bi-curious modern era, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to "suddenly" expand your horizons, fulfilling your girlfriends' forbidden dreams, which is secretly what you were trying to do in the first place!
Well, I'm not deceptive enough to try a thing like that. But furthermore, there is a more fundamental problem I have with the idea of guy-on-guy relations. Again, I make it a point not to judge others based on my own beliefs and opinions, but that sort of thing just isn't for me. Sure, I have no problem with the idea of girl-on-girl relations, but before you call me a hypocrite - the important point here is that I love women, and that I don't love men. So as long as the subject of loving is women, I'm happy, regardless of who's giving the love, and if the subject becomes men, then I'm hightailing it out of there.
Now, once upon a time, an interesting question was raised by someone in my presence. If you find yourself sexy, does that make you gay (or bi, I suppose)? My immediate answer to the question was no, of course not, that's something completely different. And that's precisely what I believe. I'll admit it, I have narcissistic tendencies. Some people dread looking at their reflection in the mirror. You know what? I actually enjoy having mirrors sitting around my room, so I can look at myself every time I cross the room and whatnot. Especially when I'm naked. I find myself to be fairly sexy. Does that mean I'm attracted to guys? No way. It's just completely different when it's yourself. When I look in the mirror, oddly, I don't see a guy, I see me.
On the one hand, I feel like this is something that's kind of hard to explain. On the other hand, I suspect that maybe other people understand and perhaps experience it themselves more than I might expect. At any rate, the bottom line is that I can enjoy looking at pictures of myself nude, but I have very little interest in looking at pictures of any other guy nude - that "little" constituting my interest in a purely artistic representation of the male body, or certain nudist pictures where the focus isn't on the body specifically, but on the /idea/ of being nude, which I can sympathize with.
As far as I am concerned with people, which isn't a whole lot, I could do without them mostly. People make me very anxious, and I would live a much more peaceful and relaxed life without them. Granted, they're pretty much essential to living a full life in this day and age, and that anxiety is one of the things I'm trying to work against. But I'm doubtful about just how much I can fix. I have a great family, and at least one of my two brothers I'm pretty close with (even though it gets frustrating sometimes). I have a better friend than I could have ever predicted that I'd have, which is great, because without him, I'd probably be a full-blown shut-in, with no contact with people whatsoever, one of those hikikomori cases you hear about in the news (if you live in Japan, I guess).
So at this stage, although I like the idea of finding people to hang out with who share my interests (especially considering that the friend I mentioned above is currently living out-of-country), I'm pretty confident that the anxiety and effort of meeting and knowing those people wouldn't be worth it, and I have little motivation to add any new people into my life. Still, I'm always looking for a potential soulmate. Even if I sincerely doubt my chances of ever finding someone who could possibly meet my standards, I'm still not about to give up. And even though I don't even meet people, and I don't hang out with people, I'm still open to the idea that some day, some way, there /could/ be a person to fill that space that I'd love to have filled.
I guess it's kind of pathetic. I mean, what are the chances of me finding someone who is both an attractive female, /and/ shares my interests? If we talk about nudism alone, most of the vocal nudist population I've been exposed to is male, and middle-aged. And nudism is only one of the interests I have that is far out of the mainstream. I can't even find a way to live in this mainstream world, I certainly can't have anything to do with mainstream people. But it's hard to find radicals. First of all, they're a minority, so there's less of them. Plus, there're so many different kinds of radicals, it's impossible to find the type you want. You find the wrong type of radical, and yeah, they might be just as anti-mainstream as you are, but they might have wild beliefs and opinions that run drastically counter to your own. And that ain't gonna work. It's like the world is saying, "step into the mold, or fend for yourself." And I couldn't fit into the mold if I wanted to try.
Well, this has been interesting. I almost dread what a certain reader might say in response. We share a lot of the same ideas about things, but our philosophies diverge considerably at some point. I feel like he's trying to push me to adopt his outlook, and it's not going to happen. Then again, I reluctantly find myself trying to force him to see some of the things I see, and that's not going to happen, either. He chooses anger; I'm content to live with sadness. That's the difference between metal and blues, anyway. I don't care if everything sucks, it's still infinity times better than nothing. And just because there's no logic in god, that doesn't mean there isn't any logic in life, or love. Maybe it is all based on gut feelings, in the end. I feel enlightened because I'm not infected with god. Maybe he feels enlightened because he's not infected with life or love, beyond what's forced upon him. Still, even though I have no love lost for god, I wouldn't give up life or love for anything in the world. And that's who I am.
This is who we are.
The time is near.
790 days remaining.
Story time!
I learned how to add notes to photos in flickr today. Not that there's much to learn, although it was being buggy in Opera, so I ended up doing it in IE to make sure it would work right. But it's the first time I've ever actually added notes to a photo. Today's nude is a little more mundane than average, I think, but there's a neat little trick to it that wasn't actually inspired by, but perfectly mirrors in hindsight, the gimmick on the cover of Pink Floyd's experimental double album Ummagumma. I wonder how many of the few people that even see the photo will get the connection... I figured it was best to leave it a mystery and let the knowledgeable figure it out for themselves.
I know I already said that I didn't care /what/ people did as a result of seeing my nude photos, as long as it doesn't bother me - and I stand by that - but still, I'd like to hope that in the long run, my work receives more interest from artists, and actual nudists, than perverts. Not that I have a particular problem with the perverts, but it's just not the kind of people I'm looking to have a connection with. Hell, I'd love it if even just a woman got a kick out of my photos, regardless of intentions, but as far as I know (and I could be wrong), women, on average, aren't nearly as interested in seeing men naked as (straight) men are in seeing women naked. So where does that leave me? If you see naked men on the internet, what's your first assumption?
I'm 100% straight, and I'll admit I have homophobic tendencies. Though I'm straight, I'm not narrow-minded; I have no problem with other people who choose different ways to live their lives. What I /do/ have a problem with is largely a matter of image. The superficial argument goes something like this: I have enough trouble meeting girls as it is, I can't afford to let anyone have even the slightest doubt about my orientation. Then again, if you think about how much girls fawn over the gay guy, it seems like it'd be a nice way to weasel their affections, and in this bi-curious modern era, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to "suddenly" expand your horizons, fulfilling your girlfriends' forbidden dreams, which is secretly what you were trying to do in the first place!
Well, I'm not deceptive enough to try a thing like that. But furthermore, there is a more fundamental problem I have with the idea of guy-on-guy relations. Again, I make it a point not to judge others based on my own beliefs and opinions, but that sort of thing just isn't for me. Sure, I have no problem with the idea of girl-on-girl relations, but before you call me a hypocrite - the important point here is that I love women, and that I don't love men. So as long as the subject of loving is women, I'm happy, regardless of who's giving the love, and if the subject becomes men, then I'm hightailing it out of there.
Now, once upon a time, an interesting question was raised by someone in my presence. If you find yourself sexy, does that make you gay (or bi, I suppose)? My immediate answer to the question was no, of course not, that's something completely different. And that's precisely what I believe. I'll admit it, I have narcissistic tendencies. Some people dread looking at their reflection in the mirror. You know what? I actually enjoy having mirrors sitting around my room, so I can look at myself every time I cross the room and whatnot. Especially when I'm naked. I find myself to be fairly sexy. Does that mean I'm attracted to guys? No way. It's just completely different when it's yourself. When I look in the mirror, oddly, I don't see a guy, I see me.
On the one hand, I feel like this is something that's kind of hard to explain. On the other hand, I suspect that maybe other people understand and perhaps experience it themselves more than I might expect. At any rate, the bottom line is that I can enjoy looking at pictures of myself nude, but I have very little interest in looking at pictures of any other guy nude - that "little" constituting my interest in a purely artistic representation of the male body, or certain nudist pictures where the focus isn't on the body specifically, but on the /idea/ of being nude, which I can sympathize with.
As far as I am concerned with people, which isn't a whole lot, I could do without them mostly. People make me very anxious, and I would live a much more peaceful and relaxed life without them. Granted, they're pretty much essential to living a full life in this day and age, and that anxiety is one of the things I'm trying to work against. But I'm doubtful about just how much I can fix. I have a great family, and at least one of my two brothers I'm pretty close with (even though it gets frustrating sometimes). I have a better friend than I could have ever predicted that I'd have, which is great, because without him, I'd probably be a full-blown shut-in, with no contact with people whatsoever, one of those hikikomori cases you hear about in the news (if you live in Japan, I guess).
So at this stage, although I like the idea of finding people to hang out with who share my interests (especially considering that the friend I mentioned above is currently living out-of-country), I'm pretty confident that the anxiety and effort of meeting and knowing those people wouldn't be worth it, and I have little motivation to add any new people into my life. Still, I'm always looking for a potential soulmate. Even if I sincerely doubt my chances of ever finding someone who could possibly meet my standards, I'm still not about to give up. And even though I don't even meet people, and I don't hang out with people, I'm still open to the idea that some day, some way, there /could/ be a person to fill that space that I'd love to have filled.
I guess it's kind of pathetic. I mean, what are the chances of me finding someone who is both an attractive female, /and/ shares my interests? If we talk about nudism alone, most of the vocal nudist population I've been exposed to is male, and middle-aged. And nudism is only one of the interests I have that is far out of the mainstream. I can't even find a way to live in this mainstream world, I certainly can't have anything to do with mainstream people. But it's hard to find radicals. First of all, they're a minority, so there's less of them. Plus, there're so many different kinds of radicals, it's impossible to find the type you want. You find the wrong type of radical, and yeah, they might be just as anti-mainstream as you are, but they might have wild beliefs and opinions that run drastically counter to your own. And that ain't gonna work. It's like the world is saying, "step into the mold, or fend for yourself." And I couldn't fit into the mold if I wanted to try.
Well, this has been interesting. I almost dread what a certain reader might say in response. We share a lot of the same ideas about things, but our philosophies diverge considerably at some point. I feel like he's trying to push me to adopt his outlook, and it's not going to happen. Then again, I reluctantly find myself trying to force him to see some of the things I see, and that's not going to happen, either. He chooses anger; I'm content to live with sadness. That's the difference between metal and blues, anyway. I don't care if everything sucks, it's still infinity times better than nothing. And just because there's no logic in god, that doesn't mean there isn't any logic in life, or love. Maybe it is all based on gut feelings, in the end. I feel enlightened because I'm not infected with god. Maybe he feels enlightened because he's not infected with life or love, beyond what's forced upon him. Still, even though I have no love lost for god, I wouldn't give up life or love for anything in the world. And that's who I am.
This is who we are.
The time is near.
790 days remaining.
25 February, 2008
Journal 012
It's been a little while since I did a straight journal entry, I guess. I've been spending most of my time lately between playing with photography, and catching up on various anime and manga series. This weekend I finished the first season of Millenium - great show. I look forward to watching the next two seasons. Wow, that was sad what happened to Bletch... I also caught back up on watching the new Zetsubou series. I thought it was gonna be like a totally different retelling or something, but it appears to mostly be more of the same (meaning still good). I also read a manga called Blame!, which was a pretty cool atmospheric, post-apocalyptic in tone, mellow story. Lots of atmosphere; the story takes place in this endless space of mechanical jungle that expands in every direction, much of which is uninhabited. Very interesting.
I've been having fun with the nude photography so far. I'm getting used to shooting for a single shot a day, and I'm starting to realize that I'm not using my batteries as quickly as I'm recharging them - which is a good thing. But it can still get confusing when it comes down to keeping track of which batteries I've used and which ones I've just recharged, since I have six. I think two might be a little more dead than the rest, and I'd be inclined to maybe get rid of them, if I could figure out for sure which ones they were... I've considered getting a new charger, since I read about one that's supposed to be real good, that charges in three hours (as opposed to eight), and is still only twenty bucks. I'll look next time I'm in a store, and see how things turn out. I'm loving the tripod, but one thing about it that irritates me is the fact that when I turn the camera on its side, to take a vertically-oriented picture, the one tripod leg gets in the way of the camera and I can't get it to line up right, so I have to end up taking a diagonal picture. Even if I try to adjust the individual lengths of the legs to change the angle, they're not sturdy enough to stay in place. So for now, that's an irritation, but it's something I've been working around.
I'm still looking through a lot of interesting photos on Flickr, and I get understandably excited when the numbers of views on my own photos go up. I'd love to have a little more feedback on what I'm doing, but I'm a little cautious about advertising myself, and there's always the question of what *kind* of people I want to have evaluating my efforts. I decided not to be a part of the official 365 Days group, primarily for the reason that I anticipate a number of my photos would likely be considered 'across the border'. Basically, it's a reflection of my placement outside of the accepted community of normals. I understand that I'm different, and I want to celebrate it, but I fear the distinctions people would make between me and them, and the way I'd potentially be ostracized and ridiculed for who I am.
In other news, the fam went out to dinner today. The restaurant we went to changed their menu a bit since the last time I remember eating there. There was no chicken fajitas, which I remember enjoying, and there was no awesome S'mores dessert, either. I ended up having chicken tenders instead (boring, I know, but they were pretty good), and some chocolate banana bread pudding that was so-so. Oh, I also had the baked potato soup, which was not bad. I like a good soup, but most soups just aren't my kind of flavor. So it's nice to find/know of one that I like. The waitress we had looked very familiar - I'm sure I must have had some class with her in high school. Of course I didn't say anything, because it's not like I was ever friends with her. I probably never even spoke to her, and there's no reason to break that streak now.
For my book-reading progress, I took a break after I got halfway through the third of my self-helpish books, since that's when my reading lamp bulb broke, and I still have yet to replace it. Maybe the rest of that book will provide some more ideas, but I'm still at a loss. I question how much of my inability to cope with society is because of my uniquity, and how much is because of my fears. I like to place a healthy share of the blame on the fact that I'm different, and that I'm just not programmed to work as a part of this machine. But maybe I'm just avoiding the real issue. If I could conquer my fears, maybe it would be possible to actually do something with my uniquity. Like, maybe I'd actually find someone to play guitar with, or maybe I'd find a way to make a living as a photographer, or perhaps a model. Or maybe I'd actually be able to get some kind of job as a DJ, or work in a music store, or something like that. The bottom line is, there are actions I could be taking that I'm not taking, and the reason I'm not taking them is because I'm afraid. And that fear is something that's been ingrained into my behavioral and cognitive processes for a good 24 years. So I'm still trying to figure out what to do (what I *can* do) about it.
I've been having fun with the nude photography so far. I'm getting used to shooting for a single shot a day, and I'm starting to realize that I'm not using my batteries as quickly as I'm recharging them - which is a good thing. But it can still get confusing when it comes down to keeping track of which batteries I've used and which ones I've just recharged, since I have six. I think two might be a little more dead than the rest, and I'd be inclined to maybe get rid of them, if I could figure out for sure which ones they were... I've considered getting a new charger, since I read about one that's supposed to be real good, that charges in three hours (as opposed to eight), and is still only twenty bucks. I'll look next time I'm in a store, and see how things turn out. I'm loving the tripod, but one thing about it that irritates me is the fact that when I turn the camera on its side, to take a vertically-oriented picture, the one tripod leg gets in the way of the camera and I can't get it to line up right, so I have to end up taking a diagonal picture. Even if I try to adjust the individual lengths of the legs to change the angle, they're not sturdy enough to stay in place. So for now, that's an irritation, but it's something I've been working around.
I'm still looking through a lot of interesting photos on Flickr, and I get understandably excited when the numbers of views on my own photos go up. I'd love to have a little more feedback on what I'm doing, but I'm a little cautious about advertising myself, and there's always the question of what *kind* of people I want to have evaluating my efforts. I decided not to be a part of the official 365 Days group, primarily for the reason that I anticipate a number of my photos would likely be considered 'across the border'. Basically, it's a reflection of my placement outside of the accepted community of normals. I understand that I'm different, and I want to celebrate it, but I fear the distinctions people would make between me and them, and the way I'd potentially be ostracized and ridiculed for who I am.
In other news, the fam went out to dinner today. The restaurant we went to changed their menu a bit since the last time I remember eating there. There was no chicken fajitas, which I remember enjoying, and there was no awesome S'mores dessert, either. I ended up having chicken tenders instead (boring, I know, but they were pretty good), and some chocolate banana bread pudding that was so-so. Oh, I also had the baked potato soup, which was not bad. I like a good soup, but most soups just aren't my kind of flavor. So it's nice to find/know of one that I like. The waitress we had looked very familiar - I'm sure I must have had some class with her in high school. Of course I didn't say anything, because it's not like I was ever friends with her. I probably never even spoke to her, and there's no reason to break that streak now.
For my book-reading progress, I took a break after I got halfway through the third of my self-helpish books, since that's when my reading lamp bulb broke, and I still have yet to replace it. Maybe the rest of that book will provide some more ideas, but I'm still at a loss. I question how much of my inability to cope with society is because of my uniquity, and how much is because of my fears. I like to place a healthy share of the blame on the fact that I'm different, and that I'm just not programmed to work as a part of this machine. But maybe I'm just avoiding the real issue. If I could conquer my fears, maybe it would be possible to actually do something with my uniquity. Like, maybe I'd actually find someone to play guitar with, or maybe I'd find a way to make a living as a photographer, or perhaps a model. Or maybe I'd actually be able to get some kind of job as a DJ, or work in a music store, or something like that. The bottom line is, there are actions I could be taking that I'm not taking, and the reason I'm not taking them is because I'm afraid. And that fear is something that's been ingrained into my behavioral and cognitive processes for a good 24 years. So I'm still trying to figure out what to do (what I *can* do) about it.
19 February, 2008
Homeostasis and Transistasis
The force for stability, and the force for change. In Neon Genesis Evangelion, Dr. Akagi Ritsuko explains that these two forces are the basis of life. It's a simplistic explanation - I once used it to prove that stars were alive - but there's a certain poetry to it. Two opposing forces, in a continuous struggle, and the resulting chaos that ensues is what we experience as life. We find comfort in stability, yet we seek the thrill of change. To cater to only one or the other for too long is to tip the balance of life. Too much change, and we become wild and unpredictable, threatening to lose all control. Too much stability, and we stifle, threatening to forfeit our stake in this dynamic world. But as long as those two forces battle, and we can find a balance in between, we are in a position to continue enjoying life.
As for myself, I'm far more comfortable with stability. I like patterns and routines, because the familiarity is comforting. Unexpected surprises are a source of great anxiety, because I need time to warm up to things, and get to a level where I can deal with them. Yet, I also desire, even require, change every now and then. Change in scenery, change in activities, something to make me feel like I'm not living the same days over and over again. A great way I've discovered to introduce change in my life with a minimal amount of stress is to rearrange my room every so often. It doesn't really involve putting myself into unfamiliar circumstances which would cause a lot of stress, but it does allow me to change my perspective on my world, because every day I wake up in this seemingly new environment. It shuffles thoughts and creative energies around. And it's just plain exciting.
College was nice, because I had a chance to completely change rooms every year. But even that wasn't always enough. In my senior year, I remember changing my furniture around multiple times. For awhile I had the bed against the wall with the window. But in the winter, it got cold, so I moved the bed in, splitting the room in half, with my desk by the window. Later, I moved the bad back against the wall lengthwise, at the corner of the window, with my desk closer to the door. Earlier, in junior year, I remember quite a startling experience with a room rearrangement. I had originally set up the room in a way that sectioned off my half, which I liked, because it gave me extra privacy, but my roommate didn't like it, because it obstructed the flow of the room (or something). So one day, I come home from a long day of classes, and the furniture's been completely moved around - totally unexpectedly! It was like the Twilight Zone! I go back and forth on whether I like a room to be opened up or sectioned off, because they each have advantages.
Well, you should be able to tell that I've rearranged my blog a little bit. Namely, I added a third column. It's something I've been wanting to do for awhile, but it wasn't one of the default options, so I wasn't sure how I was gonna approach it. It just seemed like there was too much blank space on the page, and it would make more sense to move some of the "wall hangings" in the right column, into another column on the left, so that there's more activity, without having to scroll down, observing one "wall hanging" at a time, you know? So I finally did a search, since there are all kinds of modifications you can do to change the way your blog looks. I just wanted to simply add a third column. The first set of instructions I came to was way too complicated. (I know HTML, but I never really learned about styles and whatever else is on there, so I was a little lost). Luckily, I found a second set of instructions that was a lot easier for me to follow. Hopefully, the effect looks as good for you as it does for me. Let me know if something doesn't look right. And while you're at it, take a look at some of the new things I just hung up.
I didn't stop with my blog. I also ended up completely redesigning my room. I'd show you pictures, but my alkalines are dead, and I didn't charge up my rechargeables last night, since I wasn't expecting to use them. It's not necessarily finished, as these things take time - you gotta test certain arrangements out and sometimes certain ideas don't work out in practice. Of course, it's not completely rearranged, as there are plenty of things that are too much trouble to move (like my bed, my computer desk, the huge table in the corner, my desk desk, the TV dresser...basically all the major stuff...), but there are enough smaller things to move around to give the room a significant change of personality. This time, I really opened the room up, pushing things largely back towards the walls. It's nice to have a lot of open space to move in, instead of weaving through columns of junk to get from one end of the room to another. But that can be fun, too, sometimes.
I lost a lamp and gained a lamp. I stopped using a desk lamp a while back because the fluorescent bulb got wacky - basically turning into a random strobe. Actually, it was a really neat effect, when I turned it on and shut the rest of the lights off - a real Halloween setting. I considered saving the bulb for next fall, but I ended up inadvertently breaking it while trying to pull it out. I had a backup bulb sitting in my desk (for a long time), and I wanted to make sure it was just the bulb that was screwed up. It was. Now I have that lamp back on my computer desk (I have an identical lamp on my desk desk), which is good, because the heat/reading/really really bright and hot lamp's bulb seems to have just now gone out, so it's out of commission until I go and get a replacement bulb, which I hope happens soon, because it's a pretty important light for my room (mostly for reading, and partly for keeping warm).
As for myself, I'm far more comfortable with stability. I like patterns and routines, because the familiarity is comforting. Unexpected surprises are a source of great anxiety, because I need time to warm up to things, and get to a level where I can deal with them. Yet, I also desire, even require, change every now and then. Change in scenery, change in activities, something to make me feel like I'm not living the same days over and over again. A great way I've discovered to introduce change in my life with a minimal amount of stress is to rearrange my room every so often. It doesn't really involve putting myself into unfamiliar circumstances which would cause a lot of stress, but it does allow me to change my perspective on my world, because every day I wake up in this seemingly new environment. It shuffles thoughts and creative energies around. And it's just plain exciting.
College was nice, because I had a chance to completely change rooms every year. But even that wasn't always enough. In my senior year, I remember changing my furniture around multiple times. For awhile I had the bed against the wall with the window. But in the winter, it got cold, so I moved the bed in, splitting the room in half, with my desk by the window. Later, I moved the bad back against the wall lengthwise, at the corner of the window, with my desk closer to the door. Earlier, in junior year, I remember quite a startling experience with a room rearrangement. I had originally set up the room in a way that sectioned off my half, which I liked, because it gave me extra privacy, but my roommate didn't like it, because it obstructed the flow of the room (or something). So one day, I come home from a long day of classes, and the furniture's been completely moved around - totally unexpectedly! It was like the Twilight Zone! I go back and forth on whether I like a room to be opened up or sectioned off, because they each have advantages.
Well, you should be able to tell that I've rearranged my blog a little bit. Namely, I added a third column. It's something I've been wanting to do for awhile, but it wasn't one of the default options, so I wasn't sure how I was gonna approach it. It just seemed like there was too much blank space on the page, and it would make more sense to move some of the "wall hangings" in the right column, into another column on the left, so that there's more activity, without having to scroll down, observing one "wall hanging" at a time, you know? So I finally did a search, since there are all kinds of modifications you can do to change the way your blog looks. I just wanted to simply add a third column. The first set of instructions I came to was way too complicated. (I know HTML, but I never really learned about styles and whatever else is on there, so I was a little lost). Luckily, I found a second set of instructions that was a lot easier for me to follow. Hopefully, the effect looks as good for you as it does for me. Let me know if something doesn't look right. And while you're at it, take a look at some of the new things I just hung up.
I didn't stop with my blog. I also ended up completely redesigning my room. I'd show you pictures, but my alkalines are dead, and I didn't charge up my rechargeables last night, since I wasn't expecting to use them. It's not necessarily finished, as these things take time - you gotta test certain arrangements out and sometimes certain ideas don't work out in practice. Of course, it's not completely rearranged, as there are plenty of things that are too much trouble to move (like my bed, my computer desk, the huge table in the corner, my desk desk, the TV dresser...basically all the major stuff...), but there are enough smaller things to move around to give the room a significant change of personality. This time, I really opened the room up, pushing things largely back towards the walls. It's nice to have a lot of open space to move in, instead of weaving through columns of junk to get from one end of the room to another. But that can be fun, too, sometimes.
I lost a lamp and gained a lamp. I stopped using a desk lamp a while back because the fluorescent bulb got wacky - basically turning into a random strobe. Actually, it was a really neat effect, when I turned it on and shut the rest of the lights off - a real Halloween setting. I considered saving the bulb for next fall, but I ended up inadvertently breaking it while trying to pull it out. I had a backup bulb sitting in my desk (for a long time), and I wanted to make sure it was just the bulb that was screwed up. It was. Now I have that lamp back on my computer desk (I have an identical lamp on my desk desk), which is good, because the heat/reading/really really bright and hot lamp's bulb seems to have just now gone out, so it's out of commission until I go and get a replacement bulb, which I hope happens soon, because it's a pretty important light for my room (mostly for reading, and partly for keeping warm).
18 February, 2008
More Fun Without Clothes
Today the weather was nice and warm, up into the 50's at least. It doesn't look like it'll last, even another day, but it was quite pleasurable to get even just a small taste of spring. I actually hadn't thought much about it, despite noticing the weather when we went out to dinner for yet another birthday celebration, but this evening, my brother came back, apparently from a walk, and informed me of the still-warm weather. It was still a bit early, but I went and checked it out. I was already undressed, and I just went out on the back porch, just outside the door, to gauge the temperature. There was a definite attractive feel to the spring-harbinging air, and it felt nice compared to the chill we've been having, but you know, it was still a bit chilly. The moon, heading towards full, was bright in the western sky, and the swatches of cloud were moving pretty quickly across the sky.
I went back in, then after awhile, I heard wind and rain. I checked again, and it was damp outside - probably better that I hadn't gone out for a walk earlier. The wind was pretty fierce for only a short moment, and I wanted to go right out, on the front porch, to experience it, but the motion-sensing light next door was flashing on and off - most likely due to the wind, but it was still too bad a sign for me to go right out. The light eventually stopped, which I take to mean that there's a decent chance somebody was up to shut it down. I waited a little bit, and it stayed dark, and then I just couldn't stay inside anymore. But I grabbed a dark blanket from my room to cover myself to be extra cautious. It's about the right size to cover me down to about my knees, when wrapped around my shoulders. It's quicker than putting on the ritual cloak, and it's also not as thick and doesn't cover as much, so it lets you feel a little bit more naked than having the huge ritual cloak wrapped around you. It's wooly, so it's pretty good for warmth, but also bad for generating my arch-nemesis, static electricity.
Anyway, I went out onto the porch, and things stayed pretty dark and quiet, so I was happy. My feet got wet right away, even just stepping onto the porch mat, but I was expecting that. I stood for awhile, taking in the atmosphere, as the wind and rain fluctuated, but generally stayed fairly calm. A couple times I stepped toward the edge of the porch, to the end of the overhang, and stuck my leg out to determine the rainfall, which I could hear, but was actually pretty light. I started getting ideas about going out into it, just for a moment. Definitely too cold for anything substantial, but looking at the few remaining patches of snow on the lawn that hadn't yet been disintegrated by the rain, I was possessed by the desire to step in one.
I've always wanted to dive into a snowdrift while naked, but as of yet I've been deterred by the thought of how cold that would be. This would at least be a small step in that direction. My feet were already pretty cold, but keeping them in the same spot on the porch mat kept them manageable. Stepping out toward the edge of the porch, the ground was colder. But I figured it wasn't too cold that I couldn't do it, even though the only snow patch large enough to step in completely was out and down the steps in the middle of the front yard, and then across the driveway, next to the basketball hoop. I knew that stepping into the snow would be really cold, but I judged that I could handle it.
A couple months ago, around Yule, I made a complete circuit around the house on a couple different nights, when the mood struck me, despite the cold. It was a chance to get outside, and going completely around the house made it significant, but it was quick enough that I could get back inside and warm up before I began to freeze. The one thing I remember most, though, is that with the ground as cold as it was (though without any snowfall), my feet got absolutely frigid by the time I made it all the way around the house. But in light of those experiences, I knew that I could handle this one - stepping into the snow.
My first instinct was to drop the blanket I had wrapped around me (well, hang it on the door knob perhaps, so it wouldn't get wet and dirty lying on the ground), so I could do it completely naked, but I was too cautious to do that. I didn't want it to get wet, but I figured the rainfall was light enough that it wouldn't be significant. So I went for it, with the blanket wrapped around me. I made the route out to the remaining snow patches, on the other side of the driveway. Stepping into the snow, it actually didn't feel too cold at first. I stomped around for a few seconds before the cold started to sink in - and it was cold! But not too cold that I couldn't keep my calm. So I considered myself victorious, and headed back to the porch. Now that my feet were freezing, I thought it was a good time to go in.
Back inside, I climbed up the steps, on my hands and knees, since I didn't really have anything to wipe my feet off with, other than the mat in front of the door. I crawled into the bathroom, and rinsed my feet off. One thing I've discovered from my experiences walking around barefoot outside, is that coming in and rinsing them off (especially with warm water when it's cold), feels great. In addition to the warmth, it makes them soft and smooth, which feels good on the carpet, just like when you come out of the shower.
To switch topics, anyone who really knew me in college knows that I used to play DDR a lot. I'm not gonna go into the whole history of that here - that'll probably turn up in one of my College Memories sometime in the future. But I will mention that I thought it was a pretty lame game, like most people, before I really got into it. Even after getting into it, there's still an inherent lameness factor, but the bottom line is, not only is it a fun game that you can play both alone and with friends, but, best of all, it's a great excuse to get exercise, in a thoroughly entertaining fashion. Although I do enjoy walking, it doesn't exactly happen everyday, and a lot less during the cold months. Although I may or may not have better instincts or base statistics than other people, the fact of the matter is, I'm not in very good shape. For the past two years, most of my days have consisted of me sitting at the computer. All. Day. Long.
Now, I'm not real concerned about losing weight. I wouldn't mind if it happened, but even now, I'd say I have healthy proportions, and I wouldn't go out of my way to get any thinner. I don't really care about muscles, either. Again, I wouldn't mind having more strength, but it's never been all that important to me, and I wouldn't go too far out of my way to bulk up (weight-lifting has never seemed all that attractive to me). The one thing I am concerned about is having a healthy heart. Having endurance. Being able to exert myself physically over a period of time without exhausting myself prematurely. It seems rather pointless right now, since I don't really do anything like that, except for walking, so it seems like I don't really *need* to be in better shape. But I like the idea of doing those sort of things, sport-like things, just for the sake of fun - because it makes you feel good. Kind of hard to do things like toss a ball around when you're on your own, I guess, but there are still things you can do without a team.
Anyway, I always come back to the idea of playing DDR to keep me in shape, since it's fun, it's something I can do by myself, and it doesn't matter what the weather's like, either. Of course, I have yet to commit myself to any kind of regular regimen. But you know, it keeps coming up in my mind. Part of the problem is that there is that lameness factor to playing DDR, making me feel silly at the thought of being caught playing it - which, really, is rather ridiculous. I happen to have some dance pads left over from my college days, which I think still work at least relatively well, if not perfectly. Pads can be a pain, since they always seem to be breaking down and responding wrong, which really throws off your game. But you know what? If you're just playing for exercise, it doesn't really matter if you use pads, because the important thing isn't to get all the notes right, but just to get yourself moving, and the game provides a pattern for you to follow. I guess the only other real potential problem is the fact that playing DDR involves jumping around a bit, and that can cause structural stress in the floors, as well as potentially cause a lot of noise, thumping around at night. But I think it's at least worth another try.
Staying within the overall topic of this blog entry, I'll obviously have to try playing DDR in the nude. Not that it would be the first time. Actually, there was a marginally-related incident that I feel kind of bad about, in hindsight. One day back in college, two of my friends were playing DDR in our dorm room. Instead of playing, I went out for a little bit. If I recall correctly, it was because the weather was nice, and I had already decided to go out with my guitar for a bit before the sun set. Although that could have been another day. But for whatever reason I left, I came back later, only to enter the room and discover to my surprise two guys practically in their underwear, dancing about, playing the game. They were obviously only trying to keep cool, but you can imagine my surprise. And I feel bad about it, because I was judging them then just the way I fear people might judge me now. But then again, context is an important factor with these sorts of things.
One other physical activity I've considered doing nude is practicing kendo. Certainly, they put on a lot of armor, and if you're actually sparring with someone, it would be immensely dangerous. But I mean just on my own, practicing forms and such. I'd have started doing it a long time ago, if it were something I could do in the privacy of my room. But alas, the confined quarters (even considering the size of my room), make swinging a sword around quite unreasonable. There's always the backyard, but the problem I've had so far with practicing kendo where someone might see me (even if dressed), is that, based on my anxiety issues, I don't feel confident about going out and swinging my sword around. I feel like I'd stick out, and people, if they saw me, would naturally focus their attention on me and maybe want to ask me questions and watch me practice, and then there would be tons of pressure on me to act like I know what I'm doing, you know? Regardless of whether the reaction is positive or negative, that kind of attention makes me uncomfortable. Even in the dead of night, when I'd love to be confident enough to go out and practice without even wearing clothes, when the weather's nice, I still can't shake those anxieties about the slim chance that someone might be awake, and they might glance out their window, and see me. And under those conditions, it'd be even worse, because swinging around a sword at night is generally suspicious, and doing so naked is even more alarming and questionable.
At any rate, I thought about finding something special to wear, that would let me blend in with the shadows better, giving me more confidence to get out there and practice. You know, something vaguely ninja-like. Skin-tight, black, covering the arms and legs. If it helps me get out there, it'd be great, but I don't know how great I feel about ordering a unitard from some dance company. But I don't want some expensive, pop culture ninja get-up, either. Just something simple and effective.
Anyway, just some things I've been thinking about.
I went back in, then after awhile, I heard wind and rain. I checked again, and it was damp outside - probably better that I hadn't gone out for a walk earlier. The wind was pretty fierce for only a short moment, and I wanted to go right out, on the front porch, to experience it, but the motion-sensing light next door was flashing on and off - most likely due to the wind, but it was still too bad a sign for me to go right out. The light eventually stopped, which I take to mean that there's a decent chance somebody was up to shut it down. I waited a little bit, and it stayed dark, and then I just couldn't stay inside anymore. But I grabbed a dark blanket from my room to cover myself to be extra cautious. It's about the right size to cover me down to about my knees, when wrapped around my shoulders. It's quicker than putting on the ritual cloak, and it's also not as thick and doesn't cover as much, so it lets you feel a little bit more naked than having the huge ritual cloak wrapped around you. It's wooly, so it's pretty good for warmth, but also bad for generating my arch-nemesis, static electricity.
Anyway, I went out onto the porch, and things stayed pretty dark and quiet, so I was happy. My feet got wet right away, even just stepping onto the porch mat, but I was expecting that. I stood for awhile, taking in the atmosphere, as the wind and rain fluctuated, but generally stayed fairly calm. A couple times I stepped toward the edge of the porch, to the end of the overhang, and stuck my leg out to determine the rainfall, which I could hear, but was actually pretty light. I started getting ideas about going out into it, just for a moment. Definitely too cold for anything substantial, but looking at the few remaining patches of snow on the lawn that hadn't yet been disintegrated by the rain, I was possessed by the desire to step in one.
I've always wanted to dive into a snowdrift while naked, but as of yet I've been deterred by the thought of how cold that would be. This would at least be a small step in that direction. My feet were already pretty cold, but keeping them in the same spot on the porch mat kept them manageable. Stepping out toward the edge of the porch, the ground was colder. But I figured it wasn't too cold that I couldn't do it, even though the only snow patch large enough to step in completely was out and down the steps in the middle of the front yard, and then across the driveway, next to the basketball hoop. I knew that stepping into the snow would be really cold, but I judged that I could handle it.
A couple months ago, around Yule, I made a complete circuit around the house on a couple different nights, when the mood struck me, despite the cold. It was a chance to get outside, and going completely around the house made it significant, but it was quick enough that I could get back inside and warm up before I began to freeze. The one thing I remember most, though, is that with the ground as cold as it was (though without any snowfall), my feet got absolutely frigid by the time I made it all the way around the house. But in light of those experiences, I knew that I could handle this one - stepping into the snow.
My first instinct was to drop the blanket I had wrapped around me (well, hang it on the door knob perhaps, so it wouldn't get wet and dirty lying on the ground), so I could do it completely naked, but I was too cautious to do that. I didn't want it to get wet, but I figured the rainfall was light enough that it wouldn't be significant. So I went for it, with the blanket wrapped around me. I made the route out to the remaining snow patches, on the other side of the driveway. Stepping into the snow, it actually didn't feel too cold at first. I stomped around for a few seconds before the cold started to sink in - and it was cold! But not too cold that I couldn't keep my calm. So I considered myself victorious, and headed back to the porch. Now that my feet were freezing, I thought it was a good time to go in.
Back inside, I climbed up the steps, on my hands and knees, since I didn't really have anything to wipe my feet off with, other than the mat in front of the door. I crawled into the bathroom, and rinsed my feet off. One thing I've discovered from my experiences walking around barefoot outside, is that coming in and rinsing them off (especially with warm water when it's cold), feels great. In addition to the warmth, it makes them soft and smooth, which feels good on the carpet, just like when you come out of the shower.
To switch topics, anyone who really knew me in college knows that I used to play DDR a lot. I'm not gonna go into the whole history of that here - that'll probably turn up in one of my College Memories sometime in the future. But I will mention that I thought it was a pretty lame game, like most people, before I really got into it. Even after getting into it, there's still an inherent lameness factor, but the bottom line is, not only is it a fun game that you can play both alone and with friends, but, best of all, it's a great excuse to get exercise, in a thoroughly entertaining fashion. Although I do enjoy walking, it doesn't exactly happen everyday, and a lot less during the cold months. Although I may or may not have better instincts or base statistics than other people, the fact of the matter is, I'm not in very good shape. For the past two years, most of my days have consisted of me sitting at the computer. All. Day. Long.
Now, I'm not real concerned about losing weight. I wouldn't mind if it happened, but even now, I'd say I have healthy proportions, and I wouldn't go out of my way to get any thinner. I don't really care about muscles, either. Again, I wouldn't mind having more strength, but it's never been all that important to me, and I wouldn't go too far out of my way to bulk up (weight-lifting has never seemed all that attractive to me). The one thing I am concerned about is having a healthy heart. Having endurance. Being able to exert myself physically over a period of time without exhausting myself prematurely. It seems rather pointless right now, since I don't really do anything like that, except for walking, so it seems like I don't really *need* to be in better shape. But I like the idea of doing those sort of things, sport-like things, just for the sake of fun - because it makes you feel good. Kind of hard to do things like toss a ball around when you're on your own, I guess, but there are still things you can do without a team.
Anyway, I always come back to the idea of playing DDR to keep me in shape, since it's fun, it's something I can do by myself, and it doesn't matter what the weather's like, either. Of course, I have yet to commit myself to any kind of regular regimen. But you know, it keeps coming up in my mind. Part of the problem is that there is that lameness factor to playing DDR, making me feel silly at the thought of being caught playing it - which, really, is rather ridiculous. I happen to have some dance pads left over from my college days, which I think still work at least relatively well, if not perfectly. Pads can be a pain, since they always seem to be breaking down and responding wrong, which really throws off your game. But you know what? If you're just playing for exercise, it doesn't really matter if you use pads, because the important thing isn't to get all the notes right, but just to get yourself moving, and the game provides a pattern for you to follow. I guess the only other real potential problem is the fact that playing DDR involves jumping around a bit, and that can cause structural stress in the floors, as well as potentially cause a lot of noise, thumping around at night. But I think it's at least worth another try.
Staying within the overall topic of this blog entry, I'll obviously have to try playing DDR in the nude. Not that it would be the first time. Actually, there was a marginally-related incident that I feel kind of bad about, in hindsight. One day back in college, two of my friends were playing DDR in our dorm room. Instead of playing, I went out for a little bit. If I recall correctly, it was because the weather was nice, and I had already decided to go out with my guitar for a bit before the sun set. Although that could have been another day. But for whatever reason I left, I came back later, only to enter the room and discover to my surprise two guys practically in their underwear, dancing about, playing the game. They were obviously only trying to keep cool, but you can imagine my surprise. And I feel bad about it, because I was judging them then just the way I fear people might judge me now. But then again, context is an important factor with these sorts of things.
One other physical activity I've considered doing nude is practicing kendo. Certainly, they put on a lot of armor, and if you're actually sparring with someone, it would be immensely dangerous. But I mean just on my own, practicing forms and such. I'd have started doing it a long time ago, if it were something I could do in the privacy of my room. But alas, the confined quarters (even considering the size of my room), make swinging a sword around quite unreasonable. There's always the backyard, but the problem I've had so far with practicing kendo where someone might see me (even if dressed), is that, based on my anxiety issues, I don't feel confident about going out and swinging my sword around. I feel like I'd stick out, and people, if they saw me, would naturally focus their attention on me and maybe want to ask me questions and watch me practice, and then there would be tons of pressure on me to act like I know what I'm doing, you know? Regardless of whether the reaction is positive or negative, that kind of attention makes me uncomfortable. Even in the dead of night, when I'd love to be confident enough to go out and practice without even wearing clothes, when the weather's nice, I still can't shake those anxieties about the slim chance that someone might be awake, and they might glance out their window, and see me. And under those conditions, it'd be even worse, because swinging around a sword at night is generally suspicious, and doing so naked is even more alarming and questionable.
At any rate, I thought about finding something special to wear, that would let me blend in with the shadows better, giving me more confidence to get out there and practice. You know, something vaguely ninja-like. Skin-tight, black, covering the arms and legs. If it helps me get out there, it'd be great, but I don't know how great I feel about ordering a unitard from some dance company. But I don't want some expensive, pop culture ninja get-up, either. Just something simple and effective.
Anyway, just some things I've been thinking about.
16 February, 2008
How Did It Come To This?
Ten years ago, this was a relatively normal family. Two parents, three kids in school. And you know, it might sound arrogant, but I felt like I was the favored child in the family. Not because of how I felt about myself, but because of how I perceived others feeling about me. Compared to my brothers - and no offense to either of them - I was the genius, the smart kid who consistently got good grades. And in those days, grades are the sole determinant for future potential (LIES!). The way the formula's supposed to work is something like this: kids all go to college, graduate, start promising careers, find a wife, marry, start a family, the cycle continues, while the parents get used to their newfound freedom and as retirement age sets in, they learn to sit back and enjoy life and go after the dreams they may have forsaken in their hardworking youth.
Of course, the devil fools with the best laid plans. My mom desired freedom and independence, and so my parents split up right around the time when the oldest of us sons were getting ready to graduate high school and move on to college. Within a year of that turning point, my dad lost his job to down-sizing, and though I don't know what his plans were then, it's been years and he hasn't gone back to work, so for the time being, it seems like it was a forced early retirement. He keeps himself fairly busy holding down the old homestead, and spends a lot of time watching TV, which I know he enjoys, but there's a question, at least in my mind, of whether he'd have an interest in pursuing something else in life, while he still has the time and the health, if he didn't have the potential concerns about taking care of us kids that he wouldn't have if we didn't end up being such parasites. As for my mom, she seems to be doing pretty well for herself, maintaining a positive outlook, and working like a machine to get her own business off the ground.
As for us kids, at least one of us managed to hit the mark, mostly. My older brother has been working constantly since the age of, like, 14. He bought a very pretty, used Firebird while he was still in high school. After graduating college, he was immediately placed in a prestigious accounting firm, where he's been the past few years. He works a lot, but he makes a lot of money, and as far as I can tell, his future looks promising. So far he's chosen to live out of this, our dad's, house, for whatever reasons - there are plenty to choose - although I'm confident that he could afford to move out if he wanted to. He's got friends, too, and it seems like he's perfectly suited to living life. He might envy my lifestyle of effortless laziness without responsibility, but I envy his ability to deal with the world and get done the things that need to get done.
So what happened to me? I remember touring my dad through the physics building one day when he visited me on campus while I was enrolled at college. I showed him some of the posters on the walls in the halls, of various students' collaborative projects, and he was amazed at it all - all this mind-bending complicated science-stuff. Everybody was impressed, I was studying physics, I was gonna be the next Einstein, I was gonna redefine the laws of the Universe, I was gonna win the Nobel Prize, I was gonna go to space, I was gonna invent new technology. I was on the cutting edge of knowledge. Hell, I believed it myself, for awhile. But then I learned the reality of things, and certain events undermined even my ability to keep up with the pace I had set for myself. So I dropped out. I may have graduated college, but that doesn't change the fact that I dropped out of life.
On the other hand, my little brother has dropped out of college, but he still seems able to pursue his dreams, even if they're the runner-up dreams (Living The Plan B!). He's been making efforts to get a job, and here I sit, wasting away. It seems as if not one of us is really supposed to be here, like this, but that's the way things have turned out. I have dreams and desires, but I don't have the motivation or ability to do anything about them. I'm paralyzed. I'm living in a shelter, and I've lost the desire or ability to protect myself, out there.
What do I want? I want to move into an apartment somewhere - get a place to myself. I want to be in charge of providing for myself, getting my meals, paying my bills. But I'd need to have an income, and that means getting a job. I want to have a job. But any job I can imagine, doesn't feel like something I could do. It's all so strange and unfamiliar, and I'm terrified to go out there. I'm terrified to be on my own. I want to be on my own, and I want to experience that excitement. But at the same time, I'm terrified of the possibility of failing, and not knowing how to deal with it, whether I can figure out what to do to get what I need and want, and actually doing the things I know I need to do - because they scare me!
1) Get an apartment. What do I have to do? Look. Look where? Go around neighborhoods? Look in newspapers? Look online? What kind of place am I even looking for? How much can I afford to spend? What kind of things do I need? Where do I even want to be? It's too much, I don't know where to start, and even if it came down to contacting people and looking at places, and moving in, I don't think I could handle that. Too much uncertainty, too much unfamiliarity, too much fear. Avoid, avoid, avoid.
2) Get a job. What do I want to do? Should I force myself to do something I don't want to do? Then how do I pick a thing? I feel terrible getting a low-end job because I'm a freaking college graduate, but the higher-end jobs (including middle-end) are too intimidating and selective. Almost any job you can think of includes interacting with people, and that terrifies me. Even if it was a lonely job, I still can't put myself in a place where I'm being evaluated, judged to determine whether I'm fit for the spot. I don't feel like I'm what any part of society is looking for, and I have a hard time justifying who I am to a bunch of tight-necked squares. Why do I want this position? Truth is, I don't, I'm only applying for it because I need a job, badly. I don't wanna do it, I don't wanna be here, I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to talk to anyone else. Avoid, avoid, avoid.
I'm lost and I'm scared and I don't know what to do, and nothing's happening because I have this happy place that I can crawl into where I can forget about all of that stuff for awhile, and just simply exist. I understand the need to pull the rug out from under my feet, but there's nothing in the world that can make me do it, and I'm too afraid to let anyone else near it, because I'm terrified, scared to death, of standing on the naked floor. That's a silly metaphor for a serious problem. I'm confused and I don't know what to do. I've been taking small steps for two years, hoping that a convenient solution would present itself, but it hasn't, and I'm not equipped to do the things that need to be done to improve my condition. I want help, but I'm willfully isolated from any person who could help me, if such a person exists.
There's a conflict going on inside, between the two sides of me. There's the side that's ruled by fear, and the side that's ruled by desire, and the side that's ruled by fear has the upper hand. My desires demand recognition, but my fears refuse to acknowledge them.
Why can't I be making periodic posts about how great my life is going, about the interesting things I'm involved in at work, about the fun trips I go on with friends, about the great connection I have with my girlfriend? Why do I have to live in a state of periodic distress, between the periods of being comfortably numb with my life and who I am? Why do I have to be this person, and not someone else? I understand that everyone has problems, but why can't I be a person who's got the equipment to deal with his problems? Why did I have to be the person who doesn't have what it takes to handle his problems? Why did I have to be weak? How come in this overcrowded world it's so easy for me to avoid the people who might go out of their way to help me? How come more of those people don't exist, and how come they don't do a better job of finding the people that need them?
I heard there's this program in Japan, created to help hikikomori, where the parents call in and hire a Rental Sister to act like a concerned sister and do whatever it takes to get through to the hikikomori and encourage him to join a program and improve his life. I want a Rental Sister...but they'd probably be expensive, especially if I have to ship her from Japan, and I'd probably need a translator, too...
Of course, the devil fools with the best laid plans. My mom desired freedom and independence, and so my parents split up right around the time when the oldest of us sons were getting ready to graduate high school and move on to college. Within a year of that turning point, my dad lost his job to down-sizing, and though I don't know what his plans were then, it's been years and he hasn't gone back to work, so for the time being, it seems like it was a forced early retirement. He keeps himself fairly busy holding down the old homestead, and spends a lot of time watching TV, which I know he enjoys, but there's a question, at least in my mind, of whether he'd have an interest in pursuing something else in life, while he still has the time and the health, if he didn't have the potential concerns about taking care of us kids that he wouldn't have if we didn't end up being such parasites. As for my mom, she seems to be doing pretty well for herself, maintaining a positive outlook, and working like a machine to get her own business off the ground.
As for us kids, at least one of us managed to hit the mark, mostly. My older brother has been working constantly since the age of, like, 14. He bought a very pretty, used Firebird while he was still in high school. After graduating college, he was immediately placed in a prestigious accounting firm, where he's been the past few years. He works a lot, but he makes a lot of money, and as far as I can tell, his future looks promising. So far he's chosen to live out of this, our dad's, house, for whatever reasons - there are plenty to choose - although I'm confident that he could afford to move out if he wanted to. He's got friends, too, and it seems like he's perfectly suited to living life. He might envy my lifestyle of effortless laziness without responsibility, but I envy his ability to deal with the world and get done the things that need to get done.
So what happened to me? I remember touring my dad through the physics building one day when he visited me on campus while I was enrolled at college. I showed him some of the posters on the walls in the halls, of various students' collaborative projects, and he was amazed at it all - all this mind-bending complicated science-stuff. Everybody was impressed, I was studying physics, I was gonna be the next Einstein, I was gonna redefine the laws of the Universe, I was gonna win the Nobel Prize, I was gonna go to space, I was gonna invent new technology. I was on the cutting edge of knowledge. Hell, I believed it myself, for awhile. But then I learned the reality of things, and certain events undermined even my ability to keep up with the pace I had set for myself. So I dropped out. I may have graduated college, but that doesn't change the fact that I dropped out of life.
On the other hand, my little brother has dropped out of college, but he still seems able to pursue his dreams, even if they're the runner-up dreams (Living The Plan B!). He's been making efforts to get a job, and here I sit, wasting away. It seems as if not one of us is really supposed to be here, like this, but that's the way things have turned out. I have dreams and desires, but I don't have the motivation or ability to do anything about them. I'm paralyzed. I'm living in a shelter, and I've lost the desire or ability to protect myself, out there.
What do I want? I want to move into an apartment somewhere - get a place to myself. I want to be in charge of providing for myself, getting my meals, paying my bills. But I'd need to have an income, and that means getting a job. I want to have a job. But any job I can imagine, doesn't feel like something I could do. It's all so strange and unfamiliar, and I'm terrified to go out there. I'm terrified to be on my own. I want to be on my own, and I want to experience that excitement. But at the same time, I'm terrified of the possibility of failing, and not knowing how to deal with it, whether I can figure out what to do to get what I need and want, and actually doing the things I know I need to do - because they scare me!
1) Get an apartment. What do I have to do? Look. Look where? Go around neighborhoods? Look in newspapers? Look online? What kind of place am I even looking for? How much can I afford to spend? What kind of things do I need? Where do I even want to be? It's too much, I don't know where to start, and even if it came down to contacting people and looking at places, and moving in, I don't think I could handle that. Too much uncertainty, too much unfamiliarity, too much fear. Avoid, avoid, avoid.
2) Get a job. What do I want to do? Should I force myself to do something I don't want to do? Then how do I pick a thing? I feel terrible getting a low-end job because I'm a freaking college graduate, but the higher-end jobs (including middle-end) are too intimidating and selective. Almost any job you can think of includes interacting with people, and that terrifies me. Even if it was a lonely job, I still can't put myself in a place where I'm being evaluated, judged to determine whether I'm fit for the spot. I don't feel like I'm what any part of society is looking for, and I have a hard time justifying who I am to a bunch of tight-necked squares. Why do I want this position? Truth is, I don't, I'm only applying for it because I need a job, badly. I don't wanna do it, I don't wanna be here, I don't want to talk to you, I don't want to talk to anyone else. Avoid, avoid, avoid.
I'm lost and I'm scared and I don't know what to do, and nothing's happening because I have this happy place that I can crawl into where I can forget about all of that stuff for awhile, and just simply exist. I understand the need to pull the rug out from under my feet, but there's nothing in the world that can make me do it, and I'm too afraid to let anyone else near it, because I'm terrified, scared to death, of standing on the naked floor. That's a silly metaphor for a serious problem. I'm confused and I don't know what to do. I've been taking small steps for two years, hoping that a convenient solution would present itself, but it hasn't, and I'm not equipped to do the things that need to be done to improve my condition. I want help, but I'm willfully isolated from any person who could help me, if such a person exists.
There's a conflict going on inside, between the two sides of me. There's the side that's ruled by fear, and the side that's ruled by desire, and the side that's ruled by fear has the upper hand. My desires demand recognition, but my fears refuse to acknowledge them.
Why can't I be making periodic posts about how great my life is going, about the interesting things I'm involved in at work, about the fun trips I go on with friends, about the great connection I have with my girlfriend? Why do I have to live in a state of periodic distress, between the periods of being comfortably numb with my life and who I am? Why do I have to be this person, and not someone else? I understand that everyone has problems, but why can't I be a person who's got the equipment to deal with his problems? Why did I have to be the person who doesn't have what it takes to handle his problems? Why did I have to be weak? How come in this overcrowded world it's so easy for me to avoid the people who might go out of their way to help me? How come more of those people don't exist, and how come they don't do a better job of finding the people that need them?
I heard there's this program in Japan, created to help hikikomori, where the parents call in and hire a Rental Sister to act like a concerned sister and do whatever it takes to get through to the hikikomori and encourage him to join a program and improve his life. I want a Rental Sister...but they'd probably be expensive, especially if I have to ship her from Japan, and I'd probably need a translator, too...
15 February, 2008
The Artist Is Always Naked
I doubt that phrase was meant to be taken literally, but it wouldn't be all that inaccurate a description for me. I wasn't planning on doing anything special for Valentine's Day, but something worked out anyway. I'll get to that shortly, but first, on a somewhat related topic, I'd like to bring up my underwear again. If nothing else, it must be a good sign that I'm a little bit less anxious about talking about my underwear than I was the first time.
I did my laundry today, having gotten into the habit of doing it on Thursday nights, since my other brother, though away during the week for work (since this is his busy season), comes home for weekends. Anyway, I have three sets of underwear (sets, not pairs), not counting my pleasure pair of silk boxers. Of those three sets, there's only one pair left of my old set, six pairs of the 'usual' set, and I don't know how many of the [relatively] new set since I don't ever wear them, because they're uncomfortable - they come up way too high around the waist. First, to clarify, despite conclusions some people I know may have come to, I've decided that, as long as I'm wearing clothes, I feel more comfortable with a little support, so provided I do laundry regularly, the plan is to wear the underwear I have. Well, that last pair of the old set was getting kind of raggedy (torn in places), and I couldn't help tearing it apart. I tore out the fabric, leaving just the frame of the briefs intact. It's kind of interesting to wear, because you feel the seams, and you almost want to believe you've got underwear on, but then you realize there's actually no layer between you and the air/your pants. It might sound pretty silly, but it's kind of fun to wear. It's almost like having some bondage rope to outline your figure, but you don't have to make any effort to put it on, and it's a cinch to take off.
Okay, well, that might answer a question you might otherwise have had if you end up doing certain things that I'll be talking about later on in this post. Cryptic enough for ya? I've been thinking about getting some new underwear, not just to replace old pairs I have, but because I've been toying with the idea of trying a new style. I've already explained that boxers have little appeal to me. But briefs themselves are pretty lame. I'd want something with a little more style, and something that has a low waist, since that's the direction fashions are going these days, and I've gotten used to it, myself. In other words, I was thinking about maybe trying bikini briefs, and maybe in something other than a bland white. Not like a string bikini brief or anything, but just something that only really covers what needs to be covered. The one thing that bothers me most about traditional brief designs is that overlapping pocket/hole thing in the front. I have never once used it and frankly, it doesn't seem any easier or more convenient than simply flipping down the top, to get your friend out (even when it comes down to unbuckling and unbuttoning - it's still more dependable than fishing for an eel). I mean, even if I was pissing in front of other people, which is something I generally wouldn't volunteer to do, I don't see how it could be so important that I get my snake out without risking exposure of his eggs. What does it even matter? It's not like other people would be concentrating on it (or if they were, they probably wouldn't mind seeing a little more...).
Okay, I apologize, I had no idea this discussion was going to head in this direction. But I don't want to avoid talking about things just because I'm not entirely comfortable talking about them - otherwise, that would reinforce the idea in my head that there are certain things about me that I'm not allowed to talk about, and therefore should be ashamed of. Moving to more interesting things...
I was in an unusual mood tonight, after watching my daily episode of Millenium. There was an odd show on the History Channel (my TV just happened to be on that channel, because of the last show I watched) about pig farming, and when I shut off the DVD, the show was talking about selective genetics, and the methods they use to preserve pig semen. Yeah. TV has a powerful hold, though. I'm sitting in that chair, watching shows that hold my interest, and it feels like there could be nothing better than staying in that chair and watching more TV, even after the show(s) I was interested in have ended. Because it's almost like dreaming - you ignore all your physical barriers, you don't have to exert yourself whatsoever, you just sit, and watch, and be entertained. But it's dangerous, because you end up wasting time watching stuff that does you no good beyond killing time, and the constant commercial breaks wear your brain down, and over time, you enter a zombie-like state that eats away at you and your ability to ever do anything else in life away from the television set.
Sometimes it's hard to hit that power button, but it's like a massive release when I do. At first, I'm disappointed, because the entertainment box has died, but very quickly the release washes over me, and I feel free to exist again. I tried reading some more from the third and last of the self-helpish books I got in December, Anxiety Disorders And Phobias: A Cognitive Perspective, but I was getting easily distracted. At first, I was afraid that, of the three, that book would be an effort because it would have a lot more technical language, and be more about psychological theories than therapy approaches. And it is, but it hasn't been a problem - it's actually very interesting, and I look forward to reading more. But today I was distracted. I spent some time looking up stuff about hikikomori and freeters and shut-ins and parasite singles, online. I want some books that can tell me how to fight avoidance itself, but it doesn't seem to be as common as stuff about fighting anxiety...
Ok, time for the interesting part. After tearing up my underwear, I put on the three blacklights in my room, on a whim. I also picked up the neon green plastic toy squirtgun sitting on the table, since it was glowing. Looking in the mirror, I got the idea to maybe try and take some pictures. You know, test out that spiffy new tripod I recently got! Well, that little tripod was a massive help. Considering I literally spent less than ten bucks on it, I wish I had gotten one years ago. Finally, I can set up shots in all kinds of places, without having to be there holding the camera! Of course, that doesn't eliminate the trouble of doing self-portrait photography. There's a lot of work in thinking of a pose, hitting the button, then rushing into place before the shutter snaps. And with the camera I have, I have to reset the options for every shot (in this case - no flash, self-timer, go!). Now, there may be a way for it to remember and repeat the settings automatically, but I looked through the menus and I couldn't find it. So it was still a challenge, but a much better success with that tripod, and I think I got some decent, interesting shots. Plus, it was fun, as always. I put my favorites up on my Flickr account, so I guess this is sort of my Valentine's Day gift to the [online] world. Again, if you want to see them, you'll have to login on a registered account, and turn the content filter off. Hope your V-Day wasn't too heartbreaking!
I did my laundry today, having gotten into the habit of doing it on Thursday nights, since my other brother, though away during the week for work (since this is his busy season), comes home for weekends. Anyway, I have three sets of underwear (sets, not pairs), not counting my pleasure pair of silk boxers. Of those three sets, there's only one pair left of my old set, six pairs of the 'usual' set, and I don't know how many of the [relatively] new set since I don't ever wear them, because they're uncomfortable - they come up way too high around the waist. First, to clarify, despite conclusions some people I know may have come to, I've decided that, as long as I'm wearing clothes, I feel more comfortable with a little support, so provided I do laundry regularly, the plan is to wear the underwear I have. Well, that last pair of the old set was getting kind of raggedy (torn in places), and I couldn't help tearing it apart. I tore out the fabric, leaving just the frame of the briefs intact. It's kind of interesting to wear, because you feel the seams, and you almost want to believe you've got underwear on, but then you realize there's actually no layer between you and the air/your pants. It might sound pretty silly, but it's kind of fun to wear. It's almost like having some bondage rope to outline your figure, but you don't have to make any effort to put it on, and it's a cinch to take off.
Okay, well, that might answer a question you might otherwise have had if you end up doing certain things that I'll be talking about later on in this post. Cryptic enough for ya? I've been thinking about getting some new underwear, not just to replace old pairs I have, but because I've been toying with the idea of trying a new style. I've already explained that boxers have little appeal to me. But briefs themselves are pretty lame. I'd want something with a little more style, and something that has a low waist, since that's the direction fashions are going these days, and I've gotten used to it, myself. In other words, I was thinking about maybe trying bikini briefs, and maybe in something other than a bland white. Not like a string bikini brief or anything, but just something that only really covers what needs to be covered. The one thing that bothers me most about traditional brief designs is that overlapping pocket/hole thing in the front. I have never once used it and frankly, it doesn't seem any easier or more convenient than simply flipping down the top, to get your friend out (even when it comes down to unbuckling and unbuttoning - it's still more dependable than fishing for an eel). I mean, even if I was pissing in front of other people, which is something I generally wouldn't volunteer to do, I don't see how it could be so important that I get my snake out without risking exposure of his eggs. What does it even matter? It's not like other people would be concentrating on it (or if they were, they probably wouldn't mind seeing a little more...).
Okay, I apologize, I had no idea this discussion was going to head in this direction. But I don't want to avoid talking about things just because I'm not entirely comfortable talking about them - otherwise, that would reinforce the idea in my head that there are certain things about me that I'm not allowed to talk about, and therefore should be ashamed of. Moving to more interesting things...
I was in an unusual mood tonight, after watching my daily episode of Millenium. There was an odd show on the History Channel (my TV just happened to be on that channel, because of the last show I watched) about pig farming, and when I shut off the DVD, the show was talking about selective genetics, and the methods they use to preserve pig semen. Yeah. TV has a powerful hold, though. I'm sitting in that chair, watching shows that hold my interest, and it feels like there could be nothing better than staying in that chair and watching more TV, even after the show(s) I was interested in have ended. Because it's almost like dreaming - you ignore all your physical barriers, you don't have to exert yourself whatsoever, you just sit, and watch, and be entertained. But it's dangerous, because you end up wasting time watching stuff that does you no good beyond killing time, and the constant commercial breaks wear your brain down, and over time, you enter a zombie-like state that eats away at you and your ability to ever do anything else in life away from the television set.
Sometimes it's hard to hit that power button, but it's like a massive release when I do. At first, I'm disappointed, because the entertainment box has died, but very quickly the release washes over me, and I feel free to exist again. I tried reading some more from the third and last of the self-helpish books I got in December, Anxiety Disorders And Phobias: A Cognitive Perspective, but I was getting easily distracted. At first, I was afraid that, of the three, that book would be an effort because it would have a lot more technical language, and be more about psychological theories than therapy approaches. And it is, but it hasn't been a problem - it's actually very interesting, and I look forward to reading more. But today I was distracted. I spent some time looking up stuff about hikikomori and freeters and shut-ins and parasite singles, online. I want some books that can tell me how to fight avoidance itself, but it doesn't seem to be as common as stuff about fighting anxiety...
Ok, time for the interesting part. After tearing up my underwear, I put on the three blacklights in my room, on a whim. I also picked up the neon green plastic toy squirtgun sitting on the table, since it was glowing. Looking in the mirror, I got the idea to maybe try and take some pictures. You know, test out that spiffy new tripod I recently got! Well, that little tripod was a massive help. Considering I literally spent less than ten bucks on it, I wish I had gotten one years ago. Finally, I can set up shots in all kinds of places, without having to be there holding the camera! Of course, that doesn't eliminate the trouble of doing self-portrait photography. There's a lot of work in thinking of a pose, hitting the button, then rushing into place before the shutter snaps. And with the camera I have, I have to reset the options for every shot (in this case - no flash, self-timer, go!). Now, there may be a way for it to remember and repeat the settings automatically, but I looked through the menus and I couldn't find it. So it was still a challenge, but a much better success with that tripod, and I think I got some decent, interesting shots. Plus, it was fun, as always. I put my favorites up on my Flickr account, so I guess this is sort of my Valentine's Day gift to the [online] world. Again, if you want to see them, you'll have to login on a registered account, and turn the content filter off. Hope your V-Day wasn't too heartbreaking!
06 February, 2008
Image and Acceptance
As a person who is constantly aware of the impression I may potentially be making on the people around me, it is unsurprising that I put a lot of importance on image, and acceptance. I am terrified by the notion of disapproval. There are two sides to me - the inner me which reflects who I really am, and the outer me which is the person that everyone else sees. The inner me is far more important, but for some reason I place way too much importance on that outer shell. I am far too concerned with how other people think about me, because I want to do everything within (or without) my power to make sure that people like me (or, at least, don't dislike me). I require the approval of others, and so, many aspects of my true personality, which I keep to myself out of fear of potential negative reactions, I become ashamed of. Because I feel like I can't tell people about them, I feel like there's something wrong with me for having those aspects. And my self-esteem drops enormously. I should be able to be proud of who I am, regardless of whether other people like me or not, but that's not how my thinking works. I need people to say, "oh, you are like this or that, that's interesting, and I respect you for it." Or else I'll just assume that it's something to be ashamed of.
Example: nudism. I'm totally excited about my recent explorations into nudism. And yet, despite my own personal beliefs that it is a completely worthwhile interest to have, I still feel embarrassed to admit that doing certain things naked is fun, because I can't shake the idea in my head that mainstream society wouldn't accept me for having that interest. That most people would think I am weird, if not downright immoral. And the very idea of other people thinking like that about me is crippling. And I start to feel ashamed of something that, from a logical (as opposed to emotional) standpoint, I understand I *should* feel nothing but pride for. I feel like I need people to say, "you're a nudist and that's great!" in order to counter the thoughts in my head about people who say, "you're a nudist? Are you serious?", with a less-than-approving look on their face.
That's the main principle that makes it hard for me to open up to people and let them know who I really am. It's ridiculous, from a purely logical standpoint. I mean, just because someone might disapprove of me, why should that have any effect on how I feel about myself? And yet it's precisely the reason I'm afraid to open up to people. I rely too much on the feedback (real or perceived) that people give me to determine my own self-worth. If you think about it, it's true that it reflects feelings of wanting to be accepted, wanting to belong, wanting to be loved, and avoiding the pain of disapproval, separation, becoming an outcast. You have to accept that some people are gonna like you for who you are, and some people won't, and that shouldn't affect how you feel about yourself. But I place way too much emphasis on the feelings of the people who don't (or won't) like me. And that's ridiculous. But it's true.
I've always been highly concerned with my image, in certain ways. That doesn't mean I'm a snazzy dresser, or anything. It just means that I'm highly concerned with the way that others perceive me. This is a natural extension of the desire to be accepted. I want people to admire me, and furthermore I want to have a certain amount of control over the way that people think about me. Ultimately, so that I can make sure their thoughts are always positive. It's a futile struggle, but I remain determined to hold myself to a certain self-standard. Perfectionism comes in here, to some extent. When I'm writing something, I want it to be free of errors, and I want it to be interesting and engaging. If I'm talking about myself, I want to present myself in an admirable light. I carefully monitor the opinions and interests that other people are aware that I have, so that I have a better way of knowing how they might characterize me. I don't like to be misunderstood, misrepresented, so I make a point to emphasize good examples of who I want other people to see me as, while brushing the bad examples under the rug, to keep people from getting confused, or from getting mixed signals. Obviously, I can never have the kind of control I'd need, so again, it's a futile struggle. I just want to be able to be me, and let everything else work out, let people figure it out for themselves. But of course, the trouble with that is that some people will mix it up and end up disapproving, while others will disapprove even after getting it right. Giving up control means accepting those possibilities, and that's hard to accept.
When I like something, I feel a strong desire to find someone who shares my opinions about it, and I also feel a strong desire to share my opinion about it, provided an interested audience. For example, I might be watching a movie I really like. Because I like it, that means it expresses certain things about my personality or simply my taste. So, sometimes I feel better if I imagine that I was showing the movie to somebody else. When the good scenes come up, I imagine people being impressed with them just as I am. It's weird, but I guess it's that feeling of wanting to be accepted, to find people who are on your wavelength, someone to instruct, that will value your lessons highly. Another example, the transmitter I put up to run the playlist on my computer onto local radio waves. Something inside of me is greatly fascinated by the idea of having somebody else listening to the music I'm listening to, enjoying it (but not criticizing it!), and most of all, learning the things I know about it. Like, if there was another me, inexperienced in music, but with the same taste (albeit undiscovered). To be able to play for that person all of this music, knowing how much they'll appreciate it (because this is me we're talking about now). I think about the other people in this house, and I want badly for them to listen to this music too, and not just listen, but to really dig it, but I have to be realistic and understand that though we might like a lot of the same music, all of our tastes are different in different ways, and the song that's really awesome to me, just might not come across so well to someone else. And that's a little depressing. I want to share my enjoyment of this music, and the other things in life that interest me, with other people who will also be interested as I am.
I hope I was able to get my point across, there. Language is one thing I've always had trouble with. Not so much the language itself, but just the process of chaining thoughts into cages of words. I don't have a lot of faith in the ability of words to capture thoughts and feelings accurately, and it's rather disheartening. It doesn't help that sometimes I myself don't even feel like the words I've conjured do a good job of imitating the thoughts or feelings I was trying to convey...
Example: nudism. I'm totally excited about my recent explorations into nudism. And yet, despite my own personal beliefs that it is a completely worthwhile interest to have, I still feel embarrassed to admit that doing certain things naked is fun, because I can't shake the idea in my head that mainstream society wouldn't accept me for having that interest. That most people would think I am weird, if not downright immoral. And the very idea of other people thinking like that about me is crippling. And I start to feel ashamed of something that, from a logical (as opposed to emotional) standpoint, I understand I *should* feel nothing but pride for. I feel like I need people to say, "you're a nudist and that's great!" in order to counter the thoughts in my head about people who say, "you're a nudist? Are you serious?", with a less-than-approving look on their face.
That's the main principle that makes it hard for me to open up to people and let them know who I really am. It's ridiculous, from a purely logical standpoint. I mean, just because someone might disapprove of me, why should that have any effect on how I feel about myself? And yet it's precisely the reason I'm afraid to open up to people. I rely too much on the feedback (real or perceived) that people give me to determine my own self-worth. If you think about it, it's true that it reflects feelings of wanting to be accepted, wanting to belong, wanting to be loved, and avoiding the pain of disapproval, separation, becoming an outcast. You have to accept that some people are gonna like you for who you are, and some people won't, and that shouldn't affect how you feel about yourself. But I place way too much emphasis on the feelings of the people who don't (or won't) like me. And that's ridiculous. But it's true.
I've always been highly concerned with my image, in certain ways. That doesn't mean I'm a snazzy dresser, or anything. It just means that I'm highly concerned with the way that others perceive me. This is a natural extension of the desire to be accepted. I want people to admire me, and furthermore I want to have a certain amount of control over the way that people think about me. Ultimately, so that I can make sure their thoughts are always positive. It's a futile struggle, but I remain determined to hold myself to a certain self-standard. Perfectionism comes in here, to some extent. When I'm writing something, I want it to be free of errors, and I want it to be interesting and engaging. If I'm talking about myself, I want to present myself in an admirable light. I carefully monitor the opinions and interests that other people are aware that I have, so that I have a better way of knowing how they might characterize me. I don't like to be misunderstood, misrepresented, so I make a point to emphasize good examples of who I want other people to see me as, while brushing the bad examples under the rug, to keep people from getting confused, or from getting mixed signals. Obviously, I can never have the kind of control I'd need, so again, it's a futile struggle. I just want to be able to be me, and let everything else work out, let people figure it out for themselves. But of course, the trouble with that is that some people will mix it up and end up disapproving, while others will disapprove even after getting it right. Giving up control means accepting those possibilities, and that's hard to accept.
When I like something, I feel a strong desire to find someone who shares my opinions about it, and I also feel a strong desire to share my opinion about it, provided an interested audience. For example, I might be watching a movie I really like. Because I like it, that means it expresses certain things about my personality or simply my taste. So, sometimes I feel better if I imagine that I was showing the movie to somebody else. When the good scenes come up, I imagine people being impressed with them just as I am. It's weird, but I guess it's that feeling of wanting to be accepted, to find people who are on your wavelength, someone to instruct, that will value your lessons highly. Another example, the transmitter I put up to run the playlist on my computer onto local radio waves. Something inside of me is greatly fascinated by the idea of having somebody else listening to the music I'm listening to, enjoying it (but not criticizing it!), and most of all, learning the things I know about it. Like, if there was another me, inexperienced in music, but with the same taste (albeit undiscovered). To be able to play for that person all of this music, knowing how much they'll appreciate it (because this is me we're talking about now). I think about the other people in this house, and I want badly for them to listen to this music too, and not just listen, but to really dig it, but I have to be realistic and understand that though we might like a lot of the same music, all of our tastes are different in different ways, and the song that's really awesome to me, just might not come across so well to someone else. And that's a little depressing. I want to share my enjoyment of this music, and the other things in life that interest me, with other people who will also be interested as I am.
I hope I was able to get my point across, there. Language is one thing I've always had trouble with. Not so much the language itself, but just the process of chaining thoughts into cages of words. I don't have a lot of faith in the ability of words to capture thoughts and feelings accurately, and it's rather disheartening. It doesn't help that sometimes I myself don't even feel like the words I've conjured do a good job of imitating the thoughts or feelings I was trying to convey...
Journal 010
Unfortunately, I haven't done too much to take advantage of it, but the weather's been mild the past two days or so. Though it's also been kind of rainy/windy. The temperatures are up in the 50's though, even overnight, which is nice for drab February. Last night the garbage was out, so I made a point to finally take out those boards from the collapsed VHS tower. It was the middle of the night, of course, and I was most certainly naked, but I took them all the way out to the curb. I also took a bag out tonight, to the side of the house. In related news, I got the new wall decoration I ordered recently just the other day. It's an official-looking "Clothing Optional Beyond This Point" sign, and I think it's totally cool. There were three kinds, indicating either Florida, California, or Hawaii State Beaches at the bottom, and though I could have easily taken California, I went with Hawaii since you can't go wrong with tropical islands.
My brother convinced me to aid him in satisfying his craving for Wendy's tonight, before the drive-through closed at 1am. We ordered and ate in the parking lot (in the van, of course). They were out of frosties, surprisingly. They had chicken nuggets, but they weren't as good as the old chicken tenders they used to have... The fries weren't the best fast food fries I've ever had, either. But hey, it is what it is. I made a point to stop at Giant Eagle before going home, because I needed to restock my supply of cotton swabs. I also picked up the latest issue of Fangoria. I wonder if it's really popular or something, because sometimes I go and I just don't see it there, and today, the issue I grabbed was the last one.
I haven't read any of it yet, but flipping through, I saw an ad for The Poughkeepsie Tapes, an upcoming horror mockumentary (?) supposedly scheduled to open this Friday. However, reports on its opening date are mixed, and there's some evidence that the 2/08/08 date has been bumped. Right now I'm not exactly sure when the movie will be released, whether it will be in a couple days, or not until the end of the year - or anytime else - but I am looking forward to seeing it. Basically, from what I've seen of the trailer, it's supposed to be a faux documentary of a serial killer who left behind tons of video tapes of his crimes. Not surprising that certain people would get upset about it, but I have to admit I'm very intrigued by it. The whole dark side of mankind idea, and gazing into the abyss, and all that. I'm a horror fan, and it's probably not surprising that I have an interest in serial killers and things like that. It's not terribly easy to talk about, casually, because people have a tendency to assume that if you're interested in that stuff, then you're automatically predisposed to partake in it. Well, I hope you can guess what I think of that mindset. Watching Millenium sort of gives me the idea that it might be cool to be an investigator of violent crimes or something, since I feel like I could sympathize with these criminals, while not actually condoning their behavior. Getting into the mind of the killer in a way. Though without Frank Blank's special skill. It'd probably be completely different to be exposed to that sort of thing in real life, though. I mean, I don't mind the gore in a horror flick at all, but, ironically, when it comes to real life, I get queasy at the mere sight of blood. Just one of those things...
I've already fully accepted the fact that I belong on the lunatic fringe of society. If I do ever have a place in the mainstream, it can only be a cover. But that doesn't make me bad or evil or uncivilized or anything like that. I'm simply different. My standards and morals and values don't necessarily match up with the average. It's a shame because it makes things rather difficult for me. I'm a victim of space and time. But on the other hand, I value my uniqueness, and my unconventional opinions. It takes all kinds. I just hope I can find *some* place for myself in this world...
I finished Dying Of Embarrassment in two sittings. More of the same. Plenty of good information, but it still comes down to the question of making an active effort. And desensitization. If I felt okay about willfully entering these situations, even just enough to overcome my fear of them, then my problem would have been long gone by now. Although I'm still hoping for a miracle (read: knight in shining armor), I've already come to the conclusion that there's very little chance of me overcoming my problems on my own. Yet, getting professional help is incomprehensible to me. It doesn't help that in that section in the book, their best advice is to "ask questions". Yeah, the hardest possible thing for me to do. Even if I knew what I was getting into. Ideally, I think everyone should have a personal guardian (angel, perhaps?) that guides them through life. Of course, that would be impossible, because there are few if any people actually qualified to do a good job of that, and they'd have to be so dedicated to their case that they could only handle one person at a time (and then who would handle them?). Well, there's another piece of proof that 'God' doesn't exist. No guardian angels. Fuck you, god.
RPM Challenge is, well, *is*. I guess I'm coming up with some stuff. Still plenty of time to play around and put things together, I guess. If anything, it's been a pretty good excuse for me to pick up the guitar and play. Although it's easy to get distracted playing through all the riffs/songs I know, not that that's altogether a bad thing. I figure I should learn the songs in that Blues Guitar Bible I have, because they're great blues songs that I would kill to have in my repertoire. The only thing stopping me is the effort. Freddie King's I'm Tore Down is in there, and I started trying to play it last night. Awesome short little opening lick that totally sounds like a Freddie King lick. But golly, knowing which notes to play isn't enough. You have to know *how* to play them to make them sound good, the way Freddie does instinctively, and then you gotta practice them enough that you can nail them on the fly. Think of the effort, and that's just the first few seconds of the song! But I want more than anything to be able to play that song start to finish with all of Freddie's stingin' licks. UuuuUuuUUuuuUUuuggghhhh... Why can't I have been born with an indomitable work ethic?
My brother convinced me to aid him in satisfying his craving for Wendy's tonight, before the drive-through closed at 1am. We ordered and ate in the parking lot (in the van, of course). They were out of frosties, surprisingly. They had chicken nuggets, but they weren't as good as the old chicken tenders they used to have... The fries weren't the best fast food fries I've ever had, either. But hey, it is what it is. I made a point to stop at Giant Eagle before going home, because I needed to restock my supply of cotton swabs. I also picked up the latest issue of Fangoria. I wonder if it's really popular or something, because sometimes I go and I just don't see it there, and today, the issue I grabbed was the last one.
I haven't read any of it yet, but flipping through, I saw an ad for The Poughkeepsie Tapes, an upcoming horror mockumentary (?) supposedly scheduled to open this Friday. However, reports on its opening date are mixed, and there's some evidence that the 2/08/08 date has been bumped. Right now I'm not exactly sure when the movie will be released, whether it will be in a couple days, or not until the end of the year - or anytime else - but I am looking forward to seeing it. Basically, from what I've seen of the trailer, it's supposed to be a faux documentary of a serial killer who left behind tons of video tapes of his crimes. Not surprising that certain people would get upset about it, but I have to admit I'm very intrigued by it. The whole dark side of mankind idea, and gazing into the abyss, and all that. I'm a horror fan, and it's probably not surprising that I have an interest in serial killers and things like that. It's not terribly easy to talk about, casually, because people have a tendency to assume that if you're interested in that stuff, then you're automatically predisposed to partake in it. Well, I hope you can guess what I think of that mindset. Watching Millenium sort of gives me the idea that it might be cool to be an investigator of violent crimes or something, since I feel like I could sympathize with these criminals, while not actually condoning their behavior. Getting into the mind of the killer in a way. Though without Frank Blank's special skill. It'd probably be completely different to be exposed to that sort of thing in real life, though. I mean, I don't mind the gore in a horror flick at all, but, ironically, when it comes to real life, I get queasy at the mere sight of blood. Just one of those things...
I've already fully accepted the fact that I belong on the lunatic fringe of society. If I do ever have a place in the mainstream, it can only be a cover. But that doesn't make me bad or evil or uncivilized or anything like that. I'm simply different. My standards and morals and values don't necessarily match up with the average. It's a shame because it makes things rather difficult for me. I'm a victim of space and time. But on the other hand, I value my uniqueness, and my unconventional opinions. It takes all kinds. I just hope I can find *some* place for myself in this world...
I finished Dying Of Embarrassment in two sittings. More of the same. Plenty of good information, but it still comes down to the question of making an active effort. And desensitization. If I felt okay about willfully entering these situations, even just enough to overcome my fear of them, then my problem would have been long gone by now. Although I'm still hoping for a miracle (read: knight in shining armor), I've already come to the conclusion that there's very little chance of me overcoming my problems on my own. Yet, getting professional help is incomprehensible to me. It doesn't help that in that section in the book, their best advice is to "ask questions". Yeah, the hardest possible thing for me to do. Even if I knew what I was getting into. Ideally, I think everyone should have a personal guardian (angel, perhaps?) that guides them through life. Of course, that would be impossible, because there are few if any people actually qualified to do a good job of that, and they'd have to be so dedicated to their case that they could only handle one person at a time (and then who would handle them?). Well, there's another piece of proof that 'God' doesn't exist. No guardian angels. Fuck you, god.
RPM Challenge is, well, *is*. I guess I'm coming up with some stuff. Still plenty of time to play around and put things together, I guess. If anything, it's been a pretty good excuse for me to pick up the guitar and play. Although it's easy to get distracted playing through all the riffs/songs I know, not that that's altogether a bad thing. I figure I should learn the songs in that Blues Guitar Bible I have, because they're great blues songs that I would kill to have in my repertoire. The only thing stopping me is the effort. Freddie King's I'm Tore Down is in there, and I started trying to play it last night. Awesome short little opening lick that totally sounds like a Freddie King lick. But golly, knowing which notes to play isn't enough. You have to know *how* to play them to make them sound good, the way Freddie does instinctively, and then you gotta practice them enough that you can nail them on the fly. Think of the effort, and that's just the first few seconds of the song! But I want more than anything to be able to play that song start to finish with all of Freddie's stingin' licks. UuuuUuuUUuuuUUuuggghhhh... Why can't I have been born with an indomitable work ethic?
30 January, 2008
Social Anxiety & Avoidant Personality . . . And Bears, Oh My!
Having finished reading Living Fully With Shyness And Social Anxiety, I have learned that with a lot of constant effort at practicing relaxation, positive thinking, and desensitizing myself to the situations I fear, I can make a drastic improvement in the quality of my life. Great. Not to put down the book, which is a great and informative resource, but I don't think it gets to the heart of my problem. Namely, avoidance. Even just a second ago, I was strongly considering just aborting this discussion entirely because I wasn't sure what direction I wanted to head in. And I'm sure it'll happen a few more times before the end. Let's just hope I make it to the end, else you'll never read this...
For a time I've been a little confused about the similarities and differences between what I've seen described as Social Anxiety Disorder (or Social Phobia), and what I've seen described as Avoidant Personality Disorder. Their descriptions seem to be rather similar, and I find myself sympathizing with the symptoms of them both. I guess, on a basic level, it would make sense to consider SAD a condition which emphasizes the anxiety that a person experiences in certain situations, while APD speaks more to a person's specific type of behavioral reaction to that anxiety. In other words, a social phobic is someone who gets excessively nervous in social situations, and a person with an avoidant personality goes to excessive lengths to avoid those situations. Well, I don't have a doctorate in mental health or psychology or anything like that, but that's the impression I get. And if that distinction is accurate, then I'd say that, while I consider myself to be a sufferer of both conditions, I think the more serious one at this juncture of my life, is APD.
If I had been in a position to seek help when I was in, say, grade school, then the book I just read might have been a huge help. I'd have had plenty of time to right myself before losing the bulk of my youth to this condition, and I would have been surrounded by enough opportunities to practice more positive patterns of thought and action on a daily basis. Surely, being forced into countless uncomfortable situations, as I most certainly was back then, I would have chosen to overcome my inhibitions rather than live in fear, if I had been able to believe such a thing was possible, and if I could have understood my position in context. But I couldn't. I quickly came to the realization that I was different, but I didn't ever really believe that I could also be normal, if I really wanted to.
I dunno, I really don't know. But I feel like, a lot of the tips in this book are about how to communicate better. Now, I don't like to draw attention, but when I talk to people, though I might not be quite so anxious to participate, I feel like my abilities to listen sincerely and show concern for people and all that are perfectly fine. It's not that I don't have the skills to talk to someone. God, it's so frustrating when you say one thing about yourself, thinking very much that it's true, and then you immediately think of a counter-example. I want to connect with people, it's not that I'm anti-social. But at the same time, I don't have a lot of desire for the usual kind of conversation that people engage in. I mean, if I really wanted to, I could swallow my fears and force myself to be that confident and inspiring person. But it's not me. Even if it means not being afraid anymore, I don't *want* to be a commanding presence. And I don't want my life to be filled with constant "positive self-messages" and "relaxation exercises". I don't want to be somebody else, I don't want to mold myself to conform to society. I want to bend the world to shape around me. I don't want to learn how to call people, and ace interviews, and make lots of friends, and stand up to people. I don't want to come to accept society, either. "If you have ever loved me, don't take my anger away from me. It is the only thing I have left."
That's not even the issue I was aiming for. Avoidance. My problem is avoiding things. I've adapted. I've learned to avoid the things I don't like. In my life, as it stands right now, my problem is not getting rid of the anxiety I feel day to day. I feel relatively little anxiety. Because I've holed myself away from most of the things that cause it. What I really need, first, is not to get over the anxiety, but to get over the avoidance first. Then, it will probably be fruitful to work on the anxiety.
But if the biggest problem with social phobia is asking someone for help, then the biggest problem with having an avoidant personality is doing something to get help. Is it just me, or do I have to have the most heartbreakingly ironic conditions?
I feel like I'd be better suited learning how to get a job without talking to a single person, learning how to succeed without any motivation, learning how to get much from very little effort. Why do I have to be a certain way to get by? And why does my mind insist on me being a certain way when it's clear that I'm not that way? In a different world, in a different universe, among a different society, I would be a model citizen, exactly the way I am. Why can't I be in that world?
On a completely un-related note, while I was showering much earlier today, I thought about death in a way I haven't thought in a long time. Like, you can think about death and what it is and what it means, but how often do you actually think about it from that specific perspective where you can truly understand death? Like, when I think about the meaning of non-existence, after everything I've ever known has been existence. Even now, I can think about the words and the concepts, but I don't feel it like I felt it earlier. It's a very profound, and very unsettling feeling. I think I used to have that feeling more often when I was younger. Also when thinking about, again from a specifically deep perspective, about the very idea of a limit to space or time. I can't even force myself into that frame of mind, but it's profound. Eh, this really isn't the kind of thing that can be conveyed in words. Everybody's probably felt it one time or another, though.
For a time I've been a little confused about the similarities and differences between what I've seen described as Social Anxiety Disorder (or Social Phobia), and what I've seen described as Avoidant Personality Disorder. Their descriptions seem to be rather similar, and I find myself sympathizing with the symptoms of them both. I guess, on a basic level, it would make sense to consider SAD a condition which emphasizes the anxiety that a person experiences in certain situations, while APD speaks more to a person's specific type of behavioral reaction to that anxiety. In other words, a social phobic is someone who gets excessively nervous in social situations, and a person with an avoidant personality goes to excessive lengths to avoid those situations. Well, I don't have a doctorate in mental health or psychology or anything like that, but that's the impression I get. And if that distinction is accurate, then I'd say that, while I consider myself to be a sufferer of both conditions, I think the more serious one at this juncture of my life, is APD.
If I had been in a position to seek help when I was in, say, grade school, then the book I just read might have been a huge help. I'd have had plenty of time to right myself before losing the bulk of my youth to this condition, and I would have been surrounded by enough opportunities to practice more positive patterns of thought and action on a daily basis. Surely, being forced into countless uncomfortable situations, as I most certainly was back then, I would have chosen to overcome my inhibitions rather than live in fear, if I had been able to believe such a thing was possible, and if I could have understood my position in context. But I couldn't. I quickly came to the realization that I was different, but I didn't ever really believe that I could also be normal, if I really wanted to.
I dunno, I really don't know. But I feel like, a lot of the tips in this book are about how to communicate better. Now, I don't like to draw attention, but when I talk to people, though I might not be quite so anxious to participate, I feel like my abilities to listen sincerely and show concern for people and all that are perfectly fine. It's not that I don't have the skills to talk to someone. God, it's so frustrating when you say one thing about yourself, thinking very much that it's true, and then you immediately think of a counter-example. I want to connect with people, it's not that I'm anti-social. But at the same time, I don't have a lot of desire for the usual kind of conversation that people engage in. I mean, if I really wanted to, I could swallow my fears and force myself to be that confident and inspiring person. But it's not me. Even if it means not being afraid anymore, I don't *want* to be a commanding presence. And I don't want my life to be filled with constant "positive self-messages" and "relaxation exercises". I don't want to be somebody else, I don't want to mold myself to conform to society. I want to bend the world to shape around me. I don't want to learn how to call people, and ace interviews, and make lots of friends, and stand up to people. I don't want to come to accept society, either. "If you have ever loved me, don't take my anger away from me. It is the only thing I have left."
That's not even the issue I was aiming for. Avoidance. My problem is avoiding things. I've adapted. I've learned to avoid the things I don't like. In my life, as it stands right now, my problem is not getting rid of the anxiety I feel day to day. I feel relatively little anxiety. Because I've holed myself away from most of the things that cause it. What I really need, first, is not to get over the anxiety, but to get over the avoidance first. Then, it will probably be fruitful to work on the anxiety.
But if the biggest problem with social phobia is asking someone for help, then the biggest problem with having an avoidant personality is doing something to get help. Is it just me, or do I have to have the most heartbreakingly ironic conditions?
I feel like I'd be better suited learning how to get a job without talking to a single person, learning how to succeed without any motivation, learning how to get much from very little effort. Why do I have to be a certain way to get by? And why does my mind insist on me being a certain way when it's clear that I'm not that way? In a different world, in a different universe, among a different society, I would be a model citizen, exactly the way I am. Why can't I be in that world?
On a completely un-related note, while I was showering much earlier today, I thought about death in a way I haven't thought in a long time. Like, you can think about death and what it is and what it means, but how often do you actually think about it from that specific perspective where you can truly understand death? Like, when I think about the meaning of non-existence, after everything I've ever known has been existence. Even now, I can think about the words and the concepts, but I don't feel it like I felt it earlier. It's a very profound, and very unsettling feeling. I think I used to have that feeling more often when I was younger. Also when thinking about, again from a specifically deep perspective, about the very idea of a limit to space or time. I can't even force myself into that frame of mind, but it's profound. Eh, this really isn't the kind of thing that can be conveyed in words. Everybody's probably felt it one time or another, though.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
