(no subject)
If you read nothing else ever again in this LJ -- you won't, it's the last entry -- I'd like you to read this.
Conditional, adj. 1. imposing, containing, subject to, or depending on a condition; not absolute: conditional acceptance.
That’s according to Random House Webster’s College Dictionary, second edition printed in 1997. I thought of defining it because of a concept mentioned the other day in psychology: conditional positive regard. The words are hardly foreign and complex, but the concept they embody is something I hadn’t been able to verbalize. For practical purposes: a sudden change of opinion about a person when circumstances alter.
I think we can all agree that finding conditional positive regard has been aimed at you when all along you felt it was unconditional is about as fun as taking a Hummer to the breastbone.
Most people can point to a sentence addressed to them as the most painful, soul-wrenching gathering of syllables ever aimed at them. I have one of those. Someone said this to me not to long ago while I was in the grip of a crisis I could not understand: “I just want to know that you’re human.”
Human being, n. 1. any individual of the genus Homo, esp. a member of the species Homo sapiens. 2. a person, esp. as distinguished from other animals or as representing the human species: conditions not fit for human beings.
Another definition care of the aforementioned dictionary. I haven’t mapped out my own genome, certainly, but I can be reasonably certain that, possessing opposing thumbs, a reasonably upright posture, and vocal cords that grant me the ability to speak in human languages, I am a member of the species Homo sapiens, and therefore a human being.
The reason that I received the statement mentioned above, I believe, is that when I slit a vein, I bleed sticky red blood instead of effusive proclamations of love. Does that mean I don’t care for people? No. Why would it hurt if I didn’t care? That statement, that necessity for proof, is shooting a sleeping man in the hand to see if he is alive.
I left a month ago without warning, and there was crying on the phone. I believed I was wanted and missed. I announced two weeks later that DF would see no more of me, stressing all the while that I wanted to maintain contact. Everyone had my screen name and my e-mail address. I can count the people who have attempted contact on one hand and have fingers left over. (I feel like a recovering drug addict a lot of times, but that's a subject I won't go into.)
This is conditional positive regard in a very practical, real setting. I blame no one, and I'm all right. I’m a little sad and a bit confused - I’d like someone to explain just a bit - but it’s your right. I don’t deny it.
There may be another journal sometime. If you’re still interested, communication lines continue to be open. If you aren’t, this is goodbye. I did care. I do still care, in some cases. I don’t think most of you are bad people. There was just no acceptance that I was something different from you, and I’m tired. Goodbye, good night, fare well. I am glad to have known you.
Conditional, adj. 1. imposing, containing, subject to, or depending on a condition; not absolute: conditional acceptance.
That’s according to Random House Webster’s College Dictionary, second edition printed in 1997. I thought of defining it because of a concept mentioned the other day in psychology: conditional positive regard. The words are hardly foreign and complex, but the concept they embody is something I hadn’t been able to verbalize. For practical purposes: a sudden change of opinion about a person when circumstances alter.
I think we can all agree that finding conditional positive regard has been aimed at you when all along you felt it was unconditional is about as fun as taking a Hummer to the breastbone.
Most people can point to a sentence addressed to them as the most painful, soul-wrenching gathering of syllables ever aimed at them. I have one of those. Someone said this to me not to long ago while I was in the grip of a crisis I could not understand: “I just want to know that you’re human.”
Human being, n. 1. any individual of the genus Homo, esp. a member of the species Homo sapiens. 2. a person, esp. as distinguished from other animals or as representing the human species: conditions not fit for human beings.
Another definition care of the aforementioned dictionary. I haven’t mapped out my own genome, certainly, but I can be reasonably certain that, possessing opposing thumbs, a reasonably upright posture, and vocal cords that grant me the ability to speak in human languages, I am a member of the species Homo sapiens, and therefore a human being.
The reason that I received the statement mentioned above, I believe, is that when I slit a vein, I bleed sticky red blood instead of effusive proclamations of love. Does that mean I don’t care for people? No. Why would it hurt if I didn’t care? That statement, that necessity for proof, is shooting a sleeping man in the hand to see if he is alive.
I left a month ago without warning, and there was crying on the phone. I believed I was wanted and missed. I announced two weeks later that DF would see no more of me, stressing all the while that I wanted to maintain contact. Everyone had my screen name and my e-mail address. I can count the people who have attempted contact on one hand and have fingers left over. (I feel like a recovering drug addict a lot of times, but that's a subject I won't go into.)
This is conditional positive regard in a very practical, real setting. I blame no one, and I'm all right. I’m a little sad and a bit confused - I’d like someone to explain just a bit - but it’s your right. I don’t deny it.
There may be another journal sometime. If you’re still interested, communication lines continue to be open. If you aren’t, this is goodbye. I did care. I do still care, in some cases. I don’t think most of you are bad people. There was just no acceptance that I was something different from you, and I’m tired. Goodbye, good night, fare well. I am glad to have known you.