Musings
Some problems are easy to see; I can't bend over backwards and touch the ground, I also can't lick my elbow (though I know people who can! Take *that* biology book!). These problems are easy to see, and there are relatively straightforward ways to resolve them (streeeetch. Also, hello dislocation!). However, what happens when a problem in in your head?
I don't mean "your problem is made up, spurious, fictitious, not real", more along the lines of "huh, when I read that the letters spell out something else." How do you deal with a problem that affects your very perception? More importantly, how do you deal with the mere possibility of such a problem? Maybe it's just me, but growing up certain ideas were hammered into me (relatively rarely with actual hammers); Be humble! Be confident! (those two are hard to use together at that age :() If you've nothing constructive to say, say nothing! Don't whine, change things!
Although tempting I won't claim that I was taught not to ask for help, the idea definitely snuck its way in though. Subtle and pernicious, the concept strongly associates with traditional values of masculinity and 'proper behavior'. I'd like to think (very badly sometimes) that I avoided such concepts as I grew up, but such a claim is specious at best. Society at large does a fantastic job of infusing life, especially young life, with these ideas. That being the case, now that i'm "out" so to speak, relatively freer of such constraints, how do I overcome the subtle conditioning of years? As useful as a concept like "self-reliance" is, are there some problems that simply can't be solved from within?
As I sit here, at this very moment not working on the final essay due, technically later today, taking time out for a mental diversion, I have an uncomfortable reflection: this is not a new idea. Remembering the past in any detail has never been one of my stronger points. For sure, the past exists (probably. I seem remember some of it, that's good enough for me) and stuff happened there (then?), but the details never seem to gel until I actually need them. All this makes trying to remember random events terribly frustrating; nearly as frustrating is that moment of clarity when I make a diamond-clear connection, "Oh man, I had a bike like that when I was a kid. Holy crap, this one time I totally climbed that tree all the way to the top. The view down was mesmerizing; terrifying and fantastic, I can see it now". It's one of those things, you know? Nobody has a perfect memory; mine seems kind of weird, but it's mine right? it's unique and hey, it works alright, doesn't it? But does it, really?
At what point do you realize that some fundamental aspect of your perception isn't alright, isn't good enough, could be better, should be better? Worse than that, once you realize... what do you do? Say you decide to no longer be content with what you have, how do you change? Can you change? Philosophical diversion of epic magnitude concerning the nature of change goes here... except that it doesn't, mostly because I have a goddamn paper to write and partly (just a wee bit) because i'm still working on that problem =D.
Assuming you can change, how do you go about the process? Throughout history, many people have done, claimed to have done, written books about doing, gotten rich teaching others to change, "Change your whole personality, be the person you've always wanted to be!". Maybe those things work when you want to lose weight, change your appearance, make better smalltalk (never have gotten the hang of smalltalk, always either too-interested or disinterested), but what if you want to really change the way you are? Say you DO change, sweet new memory, bright outlook on life cause now you can remember what you ate for breakfast yesterday (or if you HAD breakfast, wait when was the last time you ate?) are you still you? Does it even matter?
Maybe it's just the paranoia in me speaking, but i've always been somewhere from vaguely unsettled to manically worried about bringing about radical change in myself. Sure, I know people change; hell I've changed in ways even I can remember, somewhere between elementary school and high school I developed patience and I sure as hell didn't do it in middle school. Nonetheless when it comes to actively and deliberately changing what I consider fundamental aspects of myself, I've always gotten a little squeamish. Getting squeamish about things drives me nuts, i've always taken that feeling to mean that something's wrong and I need to investigate further (hello developing attitudes towards race, gender, sex, buzzwords), hence this diatribe which is, not the culmination of but product of hundreds of otherwise possibly productive hours of deep thought, usually liberally interspersed with distraction.
Like just there; you didn't see it, but several hours of possibly otherwise-productive work just disappeared into a (truthfully, very delightful) webcomic I found linked from feralkiwi and you too can read here
So by now i've lost my train of though. Drowned it, really. I'm sure it will resurface. Horribly, in my mind, nothing stays dead forever. Coincidentally, there are a lot of zombies in there. Luckily, in my mind, there is always hope for another chance. I suppose there is that upside; you really can forgive.
Sometimes I feel like my spastic and sometimes over-corrected approach to things is an attempt to approximate a function. Sometimes it feels like the function i'm trying to achieve is a sense of normalcy, sometimes it feels like i'm attempting to achieve some kind of deeper truth, but mostly it really feels like i'm just trying to get by as best I can while all the time defining and re-defining the terms of the equation. Also, I seem to spend a large portion of my time spent saying things dedicated to devising sometimes elaborate, often whimsical, occasionally convoluted, hopefully sensical analogies.
I don't mean "your problem is made up, spurious, fictitious, not real", more along the lines of "huh, when I read that the letters spell out something else." How do you deal with a problem that affects your very perception? More importantly, how do you deal with the mere possibility of such a problem? Maybe it's just me, but growing up certain ideas were hammered into me (relatively rarely with actual hammers); Be humble! Be confident! (those two are hard to use together at that age :() If you've nothing constructive to say, say nothing! Don't whine, change things!
Although tempting I won't claim that I was taught not to ask for help, the idea definitely snuck its way in though. Subtle and pernicious, the concept strongly associates with traditional values of masculinity and 'proper behavior'. I'd like to think (very badly sometimes) that I avoided such concepts as I grew up, but such a claim is specious at best. Society at large does a fantastic job of infusing life, especially young life, with these ideas. That being the case, now that i'm "out" so to speak, relatively freer of such constraints, how do I overcome the subtle conditioning of years? As useful as a concept like "self-reliance" is, are there some problems that simply can't be solved from within?
As I sit here, at this very moment not working on the final essay due, technically later today, taking time out for a mental diversion, I have an uncomfortable reflection: this is not a new idea. Remembering the past in any detail has never been one of my stronger points. For sure, the past exists (probably. I seem remember some of it, that's good enough for me) and stuff happened there (then?), but the details never seem to gel until I actually need them. All this makes trying to remember random events terribly frustrating; nearly as frustrating is that moment of clarity when I make a diamond-clear connection, "Oh man, I had a bike like that when I was a kid. Holy crap, this one time I totally climbed that tree all the way to the top. The view down was mesmerizing; terrifying and fantastic, I can see it now". It's one of those things, you know? Nobody has a perfect memory; mine seems kind of weird, but it's mine right? it's unique and hey, it works alright, doesn't it? But does it, really?
At what point do you realize that some fundamental aspect of your perception isn't alright, isn't good enough, could be better, should be better? Worse than that, once you realize... what do you do? Say you decide to no longer be content with what you have, how do you change? Can you change? Philosophical diversion of epic magnitude concerning the nature of change goes here... except that it doesn't, mostly because I have a goddamn paper to write and partly (just a wee bit) because i'm still working on that problem =D.
Assuming you can change, how do you go about the process? Throughout history, many people have done, claimed to have done, written books about doing, gotten rich teaching others to change, "Change your whole personality, be the person you've always wanted to be!". Maybe those things work when you want to lose weight, change your appearance, make better smalltalk (never have gotten the hang of smalltalk, always either too-interested or disinterested), but what if you want to really change the way you are? Say you DO change, sweet new memory, bright outlook on life cause now you can remember what you ate for breakfast yesterday (or if you HAD breakfast, wait when was the last time you ate?) are you still you? Does it even matter?
Maybe it's just the paranoia in me speaking, but i've always been somewhere from vaguely unsettled to manically worried about bringing about radical change in myself. Sure, I know people change; hell I've changed in ways even I can remember, somewhere between elementary school and high school I developed patience and I sure as hell didn't do it in middle school. Nonetheless when it comes to actively and deliberately changing what I consider fundamental aspects of myself, I've always gotten a little squeamish. Getting squeamish about things drives me nuts, i've always taken that feeling to mean that something's wrong and I need to investigate further (hello developing attitudes towards race, gender, sex, buzzwords), hence this diatribe which is, not the culmination of but product of hundreds of otherwise possibly productive hours of deep thought, usually liberally interspersed with distraction.
Like just there; you didn't see it, but several hours of possibly otherwise-productive work just disappeared into a (truthfully, very delightful) webcomic I found linked from feralkiwi and you too can read here
So by now i've lost my train of though. Drowned it, really. I'm sure it will resurface. Horribly, in my mind, nothing stays dead forever. Coincidentally, there are a lot of zombies in there. Luckily, in my mind, there is always hope for another chance. I suppose there is that upside; you really can forgive.
Sometimes I feel like my spastic and sometimes over-corrected approach to things is an attempt to approximate a function. Sometimes it feels like the function i'm trying to achieve is a sense of normalcy, sometimes it feels like i'm attempting to achieve some kind of deeper truth, but mostly it really feels like i'm just trying to get by as best I can while all the time defining and re-defining the terms of the equation. Also, I seem to spend a large portion of my time spent saying things dedicated to devising sometimes elaborate, often whimsical, occasionally convoluted, hopefully sensical analogies.