I love Psych 101. So much.
I think it's fabulous how I can apply everything in my Psychology 101 class to my life outside of it. First it was the pre-natal development, then on Monday it was deindividuation.
We've just finished social psychology today (and moved into stress and coping, which applies to the test on Monday, ha), but Monday was what stuck out to me. It was group influence and how you become deindividuated in them - as in, you lose your self-awareness and your evaluation of apprehension (at least, according to my notes). You become "one of the group" instead of you. There was also a lot of talk about this that I didn't write down, but had to trigger something, because what I thought of was my best friend (for the sake of Internet pseudonyms, let's call her Bridget) who seems to veer between the extremes of "only thinking of herself" and "sacrificing everything for others".
I know that sounds like everybody in the wide world, but it's true. Over the past summer, she tired of "acting 25," as she put it, and decided to act her age (18), which apparently meant seeing other guys, cheating on her boyfriend, partying all night, not eating, not sleeping, and generally being the ultimate hedonist. I hated it and I hated who she turned into, because suddenly with her any moment not spent partying was a HUGE waste of time. My other best friend (whom I'll call Lena) and I were dragged to her paramour's house, his friend's house (which was a good 45-minute drive outside of our house, and which Lena had to drive to on her gas money with no payback. She was not happy), and then BACK with an extra guy tagalong plus some of his other friends following us. We did not get to go to our promised destination (Bridget's grandmother's house, which admittedly was an hour outside of our city but which we planned to go to anyway and had paid the gas money for), but instead got to crash on his bed, which was not equipped to hold two people, much less one eighteen year old girl who was 5'10" and another seventeen year old who was 5'5 1/2". We got maybe three hours or sleep before Bridget woke us up and told us that we needed to go. She had only slept for MAYBE half an hour. We were wiped. Lena was not happy that she had to drive an extra hour. I was not happy that I'd been pressured to do things that I was starting to hate myself for, but that's another story.
That was one incident. The summer was a lot of that. Like the time when Bridget asked her boyfriend Brian if she could borrow his car to ferry me, Lena, and Lena's boyfriend Caleb around, but instead used it to tote around Mr. Paramour as well. This did not sit well with the three of us, who were now put in the position of keeping Bridget's secret for her and kind of conspiring against Brian in the process. Especially Lena and me, who pretty much got neglected that night in favor of Paramour Guy. Actually, it was much like that, until I opened my big drunken mouth and blabbed her secret to Brian's best friend (who is, incidentally, my ex-boyfriend). But that wasn't until the end of July, so....
But when she's not being completely selfish, she will proclaim to the heavens how she'll kill for us (and she will). She just... I can't describe her. She's always got her own agenda. Sometimes she thinks she's doing something that's good for us, but really isn't and is actually very selfish. And sometimes she just stops thinking about how her actions can hurt other people and does whatever the hell she likes, regardless of consequences.
Blech. That's Bee for you. She thinks she's grown up, but really she's just reverting to all those teenage things she thought she was better than. And she's still my best friend, because who else is going to keep her in line and scream at her over the phone that she's being unfair to Brian, to Lena, and to me? Okay, Lena, yeah, but still.
(Yes, I stole my pseudonyms from Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. I thought it was appropriate. And yes, I will continue to use them so you can see why they're so appropriate.)
In other news, my head is pounding and I feel queasy. This is not exactly an ideal "flying home in one week" attitude. I can't wait to get back to San Antonio, but man I feel like crap. I blame the cheap vodka at Alicia's on Saturday (no, I don't really want to elaborate), or I could just be coming down with something. Either way, it bites. I'm off to nap away the evening. Ta.
We've just finished social psychology today (and moved into stress and coping, which applies to the test on Monday, ha), but Monday was what stuck out to me. It was group influence and how you become deindividuated in them - as in, you lose your self-awareness and your evaluation of apprehension (at least, according to my notes). You become "one of the group" instead of you. There was also a lot of talk about this that I didn't write down, but had to trigger something, because what I thought of was my best friend (for the sake of Internet pseudonyms, let's call her Bridget) who seems to veer between the extremes of "only thinking of herself" and "sacrificing everything for others".
I know that sounds like everybody in the wide world, but it's true. Over the past summer, she tired of "acting 25," as she put it, and decided to act her age (18), which apparently meant seeing other guys, cheating on her boyfriend, partying all night, not eating, not sleeping, and generally being the ultimate hedonist. I hated it and I hated who she turned into, because suddenly with her any moment not spent partying was a HUGE waste of time. My other best friend (whom I'll call Lena) and I were dragged to her paramour's house, his friend's house (which was a good 45-minute drive outside of our house, and which Lena had to drive to on her gas money with no payback. She was not happy), and then BACK with an extra guy tagalong plus some of his other friends following us. We did not get to go to our promised destination (Bridget's grandmother's house, which admittedly was an hour outside of our city but which we planned to go to anyway and had paid the gas money for), but instead got to crash on his bed, which was not equipped to hold two people, much less one eighteen year old girl who was 5'10" and another seventeen year old who was 5'5 1/2". We got maybe three hours or sleep before Bridget woke us up and told us that we needed to go. She had only slept for MAYBE half an hour. We were wiped. Lena was not happy that she had to drive an extra hour. I was not happy that I'd been pressured to do things that I was starting to hate myself for, but that's another story.
That was one incident. The summer was a lot of that. Like the time when Bridget asked her boyfriend Brian if she could borrow his car to ferry me, Lena, and Lena's boyfriend Caleb around, but instead used it to tote around Mr. Paramour as well. This did not sit well with the three of us, who were now put in the position of keeping Bridget's secret for her and kind of conspiring against Brian in the process. Especially Lena and me, who pretty much got neglected that night in favor of Paramour Guy. Actually, it was much like that, until I opened my big drunken mouth and blabbed her secret to Brian's best friend (who is, incidentally, my ex-boyfriend). But that wasn't until the end of July, so....
But when she's not being completely selfish, she will proclaim to the heavens how she'll kill for us (and she will). She just... I can't describe her. She's always got her own agenda. Sometimes she thinks she's doing something that's good for us, but really isn't and is actually very selfish. And sometimes she just stops thinking about how her actions can hurt other people and does whatever the hell she likes, regardless of consequences.
Blech. That's Bee for you. She thinks she's grown up, but really she's just reverting to all those teenage things she thought she was better than. And she's still my best friend, because who else is going to keep her in line and scream at her over the phone that she's being unfair to Brian, to Lena, and to me? Okay, Lena, yeah, but still.
(Yes, I stole my pseudonyms from Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. I thought it was appropriate. And yes, I will continue to use them so you can see why they're so appropriate.)
In other news, my head is pounding and I feel queasy. This is not exactly an ideal "flying home in one week" attitude. I can't wait to get back to San Antonio, but man I feel like crap. I blame the cheap vodka at Alicia's on Saturday (no, I don't really want to elaborate), or I could just be coming down with something. Either way, it bites. I'm off to nap away the evening. Ta.