conquering overanalysis, a love story -- LJ Idol, Week 12
I will make a living solving problems. My family's bread and butter will come because my psyche and natural tendency to dissect any situation has been honed to an atomic knife-edge by problem solving exercises, homework assignments, final exams, and design projects. I have two homes, and I spend most of my time hanging out on the 'west side' of my north facing thinking machine, heading east for summer vacations, weekends, and for brief writing conventions and contests, and music forays. I hack, slash, and mow down my problems and obstacles, but only after deciphering and anatomizing them. I keep my analytical sword of truth well-oiled, sharpened, and gleaming, and it's ready for battle at all times.
If our eyes could have met across a crouded room, they probably would have. In talking to her, I knew within seconds, that she was not only special, but that she could be ... the one. But how could this be? How, logically, could I determine these things in such a short time. Logically, one should get to know someone before coming to these conclusions, and I didn't know Holly at all, save for the initial descriptions of her that my friend had told me. I was comfortable on the west coast, and the spontaneity, emotion, and bustle of the east coast loomed near and ominous. Love at first sight? No, impossible. Not me, not now!
Sword out ... set ... charge!
Problem statement:
A girl sits next to you. You have been talking for thirty seconds. You know that she likes science, and math, but she's an artist. What do you do? Show all of your work clearly. No partial credit.
knowns:
I'm terrified
Answer: I have no idea! HELP! Throw me the life ring! Pencils down! STOP! Time is up! No extra credit! Thanks for playing, try again next time!
But wait, I couldn't give up. I just don't do that! I never throw in the towel. Sure, this bramble I'd gotten myself into might be tough to hack through, but I had to be determined to do it. She gave me no choice but to let my heart take over fora while so that I could get to know her a little bit. I wasn't going to switch to my east coast offense just yet, so I set my security system, activity logger, and e(motion) sensors on maximum and left my sprawling estate on the seaside for a daytrip into the city. Data analysis could commence when I got home.
And analyze I did. As we continued talking and emailing, I tried to analyze every phrase, syllable, and nuance. I called trusted friends to gather intelligence and learn from their experiences. I tried to convince myself that all the signs that she was sending my way--signs that she liked me--were false. I'd been here before and been wrong, so why would Holly be any different? It couldn't be different, not now! I would lay awake at night, pinning reason vs. emotion in a bloody east/west civil war. Surely, the army of analysis would win over the conscripts from the east.
I could tell you the long, drawn-out story of the bloody war. I could outline all of the battles, detail my battle plans, summarize my defeats and conquests. That would waste yours and my time though ... I'm a scientist, not a historian.
At the end of one of our first few five hour conversations on the phone, I realized just how bad my problem had gotten, how I was in danger of overanalyzing this wonderful girl out of my life.
"You know, I never know when, or if a girl might like me? Do you ever have that problem, knowing?" I asked.
"Sure, but you have to put your pole in the water to catch the fish. You have to put yourself out there, no matter how painful might be."
At that point , I knew that Mr. Analysis, many times my ally, had to become my enemy. Holly was no longer a problem statement needing to be solved. She was just a girl, and I knew what I needed to do.
We've been together for four months now, and life on the right coast has been great. I think I can dig this love thing?
I don't think I've truly queled my overanalytic mind. I still catch myself turning life problems into problem statements and worries into meaningless heartburn. I still lay awake at night, needlessly oiling and sharpening my sword, always ready to hack, slash, and dissect. At least I'm working on it though.
The sun always rises first on my brain's east coast, bringing early light to my life. I can still see the sea from my plate glass window. It's different over here, different in the east, but I'm growing to like it here. I'm even getting good at solving really complicated engineering problems from my office here ... creativity in engineering is good. Some day, I hope Holly can come and live with me here--heck she taught me that love isn't always a science problem--because the sunsets are so beautiful in the east! I just hope I can override my urge to overanalyze, because it's so much easier to let go. I'll never abandon my western seaside villa for it's good to be left-brained on occasion, but I'll be spending less time over there now, I hope, thanks to Holly's abduration to follow my heart.
If our eyes could have met across a crouded room, they probably would have. In talking to her, I knew within seconds, that she was not only special, but that she could be ... the one. But how could this be? How, logically, could I determine these things in such a short time. Logically, one should get to know someone before coming to these conclusions, and I didn't know Holly at all, save for the initial descriptions of her that my friend had told me. I was comfortable on the west coast, and the spontaneity, emotion, and bustle of the east coast loomed near and ominous. Love at first sight? No, impossible. Not me, not now!
Sword out ... set ... charge!
Problem statement:
A girl sits next to you. You have been talking for thirty seconds. You know that she likes science, and math, but she's an artist. What do you do? Show all of your work clearly. No partial credit.
knowns:
- I want to meet a girl and some day get married
- I hate rejection
- I've only talked to her for thirty seconds
- status of like (does she feel the same way I do)
- and ... pretty much anything else
Answer: I have no idea! HELP! Throw me the life ring! Pencils down! STOP! Time is up! No extra credit! Thanks for playing, try again next time!
But wait, I couldn't give up. I just don't do that! I never throw in the towel. Sure, this bramble I'd gotten myself into might be tough to hack through, but I had to be determined to do it. She gave me no choice but to let my heart take over fora while so that I could get to know her a little bit. I wasn't going to switch to my east coast offense just yet, so I set my security system, activity logger, and e(motion) sensors on maximum and left my sprawling estate on the seaside for a daytrip into the city. Data analysis could commence when I got home.
And analyze I did. As we continued talking and emailing, I tried to analyze every phrase, syllable, and nuance. I called trusted friends to gather intelligence and learn from their experiences. I tried to convince myself that all the signs that she was sending my way--signs that she liked me--were false. I'd been here before and been wrong, so why would Holly be any different? It couldn't be different, not now! I would lay awake at night, pinning reason vs. emotion in a bloody east/west civil war. Surely, the army of analysis would win over the conscripts from the east.
I could tell you the long, drawn-out story of the bloody war. I could outline all of the battles, detail my battle plans, summarize my defeats and conquests. That would waste yours and my time though ... I'm a scientist, not a historian.
At the end of one of our first few five hour conversations on the phone, I realized just how bad my problem had gotten, how I was in danger of overanalyzing this wonderful girl out of my life.
"You know, I never know when, or if a girl might like me? Do you ever have that problem, knowing?" I asked.
"Sure, but you have to put your pole in the water to catch the fish. You have to put yourself out there, no matter how painful might be."
At that point , I knew that Mr. Analysis, many times my ally, had to become my enemy. Holly was no longer a problem statement needing to be solved. She was just a girl, and I knew what I needed to do.
We've been together for four months now, and life on the right coast has been great. I think I can dig this love thing?
I don't think I've truly queled my overanalytic mind. I still catch myself turning life problems into problem statements and worries into meaningless heartburn. I still lay awake at night, needlessly oiling and sharpening my sword, always ready to hack, slash, and dissect. At least I'm working on it though.
The sun always rises first on my brain's east coast, bringing early light to my life. I can still see the sea from my plate glass window. It's different over here, different in the east, but I'm growing to like it here. I'm even getting good at solving really complicated engineering problems from my office here ... creativity in engineering is good. Some day, I hope Holly can come and live with me here--heck she taught me that love isn't always a science problem--because the sunsets are so beautiful in the east! I just hope I can override my urge to overanalyze, because it's so much easier to let go. I'll never abandon my western seaside villa for it's good to be left-brained on occasion, but I'll be spending less time over there now, I hope, thanks to Holly's abduration to follow my heart.