12.22.2007

My Dreams Are Out To Get Me...

So, I have a newfound reason to be an insomniac (not that I needed a reason to be before)... My dreams are set on making me hate myself.

Which I guess is not that bad, cos it's taking up all my energy, and i don't have time to hate anyone else... Or feel anything else, for that matter, although that may be a side effect of the "trying-not-to-be-overly-emotional-about-being-erased" thing...

In one night I dreamed that we were moving Amma and Papa back into town, and they were going to live with Steph. At the same time, I knew that it was the middle of summer, and that I had enrolled in summer school, but for the past half-week or so, hadn't been attending, and felt incredibly guilty about it.

Another night, I don't remember what was happening, but there were many people who were pointing out to me (as if I hadn't noticed) all the things I most avidly dislike about myself. They're not huge things, but everyone has her insecurities.

Then there was the one wherein She and I were closer than ever, and almost inseparable. That was the worst of all.


Even in spite of all this, however, I find myself sleeping for unreasonably numerous hours... The normal seven/eight hours has been elongated to ten, twelve, even fourteen hours of repose. Simply because I don't want to get up.

I don't really know what this is about... but it's starting to frighten me.

12.12.2007

A Wedding Poem by Carrie Bradshaw


His hello was the end of her endings,
Her laugh was their first step down the aisle.
His hand would be hers to hold forever,
His forever was as simple as her smile.

An ocean couldn’t prevent it.
A New York minute wouldn’t let it pass.
Does the universe decide for us,
Which love will fade and which will last.

He said she was what was missing.
She said she instantly new.
She was a question to be answered.
And his answer was “I do.”


I've always liked this poem.
It's so simple, and so romantic, and so perfect.
And the scene it's in says a lot, too.
She's reading it to commemorate Love, and he gets up and walks away.

He walks away. In the middle of her poem about commitment.

And isn't that the way it always goes.

You're in the middle of having a revelation, and your audience stands, and tells you everything you've believed was a lie, was a game, and walks away.

How can anybody expect anybody to be balanced, and whole, and sane after doing something like that to them?

I hope you realize what you've asked of me, and what you've done.

I hope you realize that in doing this you've repeated the offense of so many before you.

I hope you realize this is what you promised not to do.


This is what you were so appalled at when it wasn't you.
And now that it is you, there are no second thoughts.

I hope you realize that someone who truly values "peace, <3, empathy, acceptance and an open heart" would never let this happen.

We both thought we were kindred spirits, but it turns out we weren't. You got bored, and I got hurt. It is so unspeakably unfair that because you chose not to love me, I don't get to love you.



Thanks for finally making me realize that what I've dreaded to accept is The Absolute Truth.



Of all the interpersonal relations I've experienced in my life, the one with you was by far the most incredibly painful, and the one I'd be most willing to relive. I have been more hurt by you than by any other person I have ever come into contact with. But we both know I wouldn't forget you for the world.

12.06.2007

my spirit paper

So, I'm writing my spiritual journey...

... and two things are happening...

1) I'm on an amphetamine high, caused by 330mg methylxanthine and 300mg caffeine. Off and on during this trip my head hurts, I can't feel my fingertips, I've become increasingly dyslexic, my heart hurts, my right lung feels ready to collapse, I'm having trouble breathing, and there's a throbbing, yet dull pain on the right side of my lower back.
But my productivity is up about 750-800%, and I'm enjoying the increased introspection.

2) The more I write about it, the clearer it becomes. I've come to realize that the reason we weren't agreeing with each other before is that neither of us was truly listening to what the other was saying. I know we both probably heard each other, and to testify to this I can regurgitate what she was saying, and am better able to understand it. But we were both so preoccupied with trying to convey meaning, that we both forgot to truly listen and try to empathize. We were both so displaced by this that we were both completely skewed from our normal states of being.



Mmbien, I have to go finish this paper.

12.04.2007

Testing, 1, 2, 3

Have you ever been in a situation where you were doing something, and then stepped back from whatever you were doing and wondered whether it was real, or whether someone was just testing you? Like the clinical trials we have to do for psych classes, but in real life? (Or what you considered to be real life?) Ever thought on what you were doing, and wondered if maybe someone was running a test on you, to see how you'd react in a certain situation? To see how everyone would react to a given set of parameters? Even thought on it so long that you were certain it must be true, and that someone was definitely watching your behaviour? It's an extremely disheartening, un-empowering, violated way of thinking... It makes you wonder what, if anything, is truly real, and what merely a test of your character, your weakness, or your self-discipline. It makes you feel a little displaced, and a little paranoid.

Sometimes I think of A∑∆ like that, and I truly wonder.

10.28.2007

My Revelation

So today I got to hang out with Yvette, which was the high point of my week in and of itself...

There's nothing better than that, to me... Than to be able to spend time with someone as incredible as she is. To be able to talk to someone with whom you are so mentally linked, who truly understands you. It's fantastic.

Well, this time was especially enlightening. We started off with dinner, which was this crazy-good red sauce that was absolutely fabulous over pasta (and would've also made a wonderful salad dressing), and a little bit of scrap-booking. But it gets better...

In addition to getting to spend the evening with her, she got me stoned for the first time in my life. And i don't mean just a little bit. Stoned off my ASS, stoned.

I remember at one point sitting up against a wall, thinking about how tall Yvette was, and wondering why I didn't think it was physically possible to move. My vision kept doing this wonky thing where it made everything look like it was one step past 3D, and it was hard to focus. I remember thinking at the time that I had developed the ability to see in the fourth dimension.

I also remember she kept talking to me, expecting me to retain information, as if that were humanly possible... Well, it felt to me like the world was restarting itself every three seconds. Like that's how long my attention span was. It felt like chapters of a dvd, but could probably be better described as a dream-state. Like that feeling when you're dreaming, and you move from one REM cycle to the next, and the entire contents of your dream shifts, but there are a few things that remain constant (people you're with or stuff like that), and you can feel that you're not in the same part of your dream as you were. It was like that. To say I felt like I was dreaming is not entirely inaccurate, and for that reason.

I kept trying to put words to the feeling, and I remember telling Yvette that I felt like a cartoon, and thinking that I felt like I was made of the rubbery plastic material that Barbie dolls are made from. I also remember feeling that the world was not really made of three dimensions, but rather that it was made in two dimensions, and then seen from the wrong angle. Like when you put a bunch of pieces of paper or cardboard or something flat up parallel to each other, and then go stand 90 degrees from them, looking at them perpendicularly. So like from one angle it would look something like this |||||, but from the angle we see it, it's all perfectly normal. 2 1/2 D, I guess you could call it.

It was a strange experience, and completely liberating, while entirely terrifying at the same time...

I'm definitely interested in trying again, to see what happens, or if I missed anything, but I think for right now I'll stick to my other vices. ;) Maybe I'll try it again once I have more free time.

10.18.2007

Dear Boy in Clinical Who Kicks My Chair,

Stop it.

Truly, we are in the Second Grade when, in a Clinical Health Care class at a prestigious University of California, you insist on distracting me by repeatedly knocking the back of my chair with your foot. I sympathize that there is not an abundance of leg room between rows in these classrooms, especially since the designers had to accommodate 8 billion people, but surely your feet (which are not all that big to begin with) can fit under your own chair, or even- and I know this is a revelation- on the floor.

Also, tell your girlfriend to get HER feet off the back of my chair as well. She is not nearly as distracting as you, insofar that she does not create vibrations and a tapping noise, but alas, every time she shifts her feet, my hair gets caught between them and the chair back, effectively pulling it whenever I breathe. I understand the need for her to constantly readjust, seeing as how she has her feet up on the back of the chair next to the one in front of her, and this diagonal can be quite a stretch. But I assure you both, if she removes her feet from my chair this problem will disappear completely.

You might also want to note, that if the two of you desist, you will in fact get to keep your feet. Otherwise, I might be inclined to remove them FOR you.

Cheers.

10.15.2007

Dear Santa Cruzians,

I need your help! I am in the most painful circumstances, and need a kind, loving, sympathetic soul. My doggy and I are currently separated by twenty-six miles of the harshest, most horrible mountain road called Highway 17. I travel on this road as many weekends as I can to see him, and pet him, and play with him, but it seems every time I am forced to leave him to return to school mere moments after we settle in to nap together. This is the most heartbreaking feeling, and I die every time I have to kiss him on the head and shut the door between us. If only my doggy and I could be reunited, I know we would both be much happier. As I live on campus, however, my poor puppy is not welcome in my home, and to admit him would be to lose it. I need a caring soul who would be willing to house my doggy in Santa Cruz, as near to campus as possible so that when one of us is lonely we can visit each other without the hours of transit from campus to Metro Center, from Metro Center to Diridon Station, from Diridon to that soft, feathery fur, and excited wagging tail. Please, people of Santa Cruz! Band together, and find a SC home for my puppy so I never have to leave him again! I promise he'll fit in with the dog-friendly nature of the town, and he is yet to meet another dog he's aggressive toward...

10.10.2007

Secrets Are Things We Give to Others To Keep For Us...

My heart breaks over and over when I hear about you loving her. You left me and I promised way back when that I would wait for you...I still am. When you marry that girl I'll still be here. I'll get married and I'll still be here. I'll still love you...


Found this on postsecret. It spoke to me...



I feel bad about not having posted in so long a time... I think it may be because of summer, and probably because without class blogs, I don't remember I have this blog, but that's just a lame excuse... I love my blog. I want to keep posting, but with everything that's going on in my life, I don't think I have the time.

7.30.2007

The Philosophy of Language: Does Language Affect the Way I Think?

As a scholar of the English language, the effect that a certain word or phrase can have on the mentality of those who come across it is very intriguing to me. When asked the question, “does language make me think the way I do?” I am not at all hesitant to answer affirmatively. I do believe language has at least some effect on the way each of us perceives the world. This does not, however, mean that I believe that our minds are controlled by the language we speak, or that we are incapable of imagining constructs absent in our own language. My opinion is simply that we cannot possibly be unaffected by the true meanings of the words we use and hear.

In a passage entitled “The Language Instinct,” Stephen Pinker explains how he believes the assumption that we cannot have thoughts without words to communicate them in is completely inaccurate. He denies the idea that differences among language can create differences in the thoughts of the speakers. Pinker is also of the opinion that language is no inhibitor to free thought. One of the ideas Pinker presents to support this view is the common occurrence of people saying things with a misconstrued meaning. Saying something you “didn’t mean to say,” he argues, is proof that there are thoughts and ideas that cannot be accurately expressed by language. By the same token he argues that it is often difficult to find the right words for what we truly mean to say. For some things it even seems as if there are no words to express a feeling or emotion. This supports the idea that thought is independent from language, not dependent upon it.

Pinker also argues that without thoughts independent from words it would be difficult if not impossible to create new words, or translate from one language to another. He explains that when we hear or read something, we often remember just the gist of the material, and not the words. Under the aforementioned idealism, it would be impossible to recognize the idea behind an argument without remembering the exact wording of it. Another argument Pinker uses to support his belief is the idea that dogs cannot talk, but we do not automatically assume that this indicates they are unconscious of their surroundings. He further disputes the idea of thought from language, saying that it is outdated, and was only an acceptable idea when scientists were less informed about the proper method of assessing thought. He believes that the only reason thought and language were thought to be the same thing was that words were more “palpable” than thoughts.

Pinker was also adamantly against the linguistic determinism hypothesis, which states that the structure of thought of a certain person is based on the structure of that person’s language. In his refute of these claims, however, he attacks the quality of the research itself along with the conclusions drawn from it. Pinker argues that to draw these conclusions the examples given had to be horrible underrepresented. He reminds us that just as easily as the English sentence, “he invites people to a feast,” can become, “he goes for eaters of cooked food,” in Apache, the English phrase, “he walks,” can be translated into the English, “as solitary masculinity, leggedness proceeds.” From this argument, Pinker explains that though grammatically these other languages are unlike our way of speaking, the ideas behind them are not so unlike our way of thinking. This he uses to further support that languages and concepts are independent. As he so elegantly puts it, verbal language is not required for a person to be able to understand “mentalese.”

In the excerpt from Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass, the author’s stance on language is clearly and cleverly portrayed through the dialogue of the characters, Alice and Humpty Dumpty, the latter of whom is portrayed as a snooty, curmudgeonly character, and set in his ways. In the story, Alice happens upon Humpty Dumpty sitting on his wall, and starts up a conversation with him. He asks her what her name is, and then upon learning it proclaims it a bad name because it does not serve any purpose besides being a name: it does not provide any discerning information about its bearer. His name, in contrast, provides the useful information of what shape he is. Because the child’s name does not have any referent, he reasons it is a bad name, and is an empty word.

Wishing to change the subject, Alice comments on the beauty of an article of clothing that encircles Humpty Dumpty, which she at first confuses to be a belt, but he claims is a cravat. At first he is upset that she does not know how to determine a belt from a cravat. She is also upset by this, but is more preoccupied with not being able to determine his neck from his waist. It is only when Alice admits her ignorance that Humpty Dumpty becomes slightly more forgiving of her. Instead he focuses on her compliment, and agrees that yes, the cravat he wears is beautiful. It is seen through this exchange that even though something might be addressed incorrectly, the wrong name does not necessarily change the subject. Even though she called his clothing by the wrong name, he was still able to determine to what she was referring. This indicates that a word does not alter the state of a thought or concept.

Humpty Dumpty then tells Alice that the cravat was an un-birthday gift. After explaining to her that an un-birthday was any day that is not your birthday, Humpty hears that Alice prefers birthday presents. He proclaims this as foolish, and has her demonstrate to him that there are 364 times as many un-birthdays in a year as there are birthdays (365 days minus one birthday). Without actually saying it, Humpty Dumpty explains that any gift you get on any of the 364 days when it is not your birthday is every bit as good as if you received that gift on the one day when it was your birthday. He has demonstrated that not unlike the logic of the cravat, the day a gift was given does not at all affect the quality of the gift. It is the word “birthday” itself that excites her, not the prospect of receiving. The language, therefore, does hold some weight.

The tone of the conversation then shifts, and Humpty Dumpty explains that he has used the word “glory” to mean “a knockdown argument.” She counters that that is not at all what “glory” means, but he insists that the meaning of his word is only what he meant by it, and has no conventional referent whatsoever. She does not believe it is right of him to have changed the meaning of the word on a whim to suit his needs, but he assures her that the issue lies in his taking ownership of his words, not in his changing their meanings. He then goes on to use the word “impenetrability” to mean “we’ve had enough of that subject, and it would be just as well if you’d mention what you mean to do next, as I suppose you don’t mean to stop here all the rest of your life.” She berates him for assigning such a lengthy meaning to his word, but he assures her his words receive proper “payment” for their duties.

In changing the meaning of his words, Humpty Dumpty has made it that much harder for Alice to be able to understand what he says. He has created phrases for which there are double meanings, when there exist enough of such phrases already. Even in this same conversation, Humpy and Alice misunderstand each other without either of them trying to create disconnect. When Humpty first uses the word “un-birthday” Alice asks, “I beg your pardon?” Humpty replies that she has not offended him, but she clarifies that she meant that she did not understand what he said.

Phrases and expressions such as this are commonly misconceived, especially by foreigners unfamiliar with the nuances or euphemisms of a new language. Often the expressions seem to make no sense, but upon closer inspection the thought process is similar to the referent, and the expression becomes universal. One example of this is the French phrase “le coup de foudre,” which literally translated means “the blow of lightening,” or, in a word, “thunder.” This phrase as an idiom, however, means, “love at first sight.” This may seem obscure at first, but can be rationalized by the thought that love at first sight is often as unplanned, and may be as powerful as thunder or lightening (as it happens, we have a similar expression in English; we call it “thunderstruck,” which means to be awed speechless). We see in this instance that the same meaning and basic concept has been given two very specifically different forms of expression. It is this same logic Humpty uses to justify assigning a single name (impenetrability) to a long set of phrases.

I do not personally believe thoughts and language to be so very completely independent from each other. They seem to have the much more intertwined, entangled relationship of a pair of lovers. The words someone speaks to you definitely affect the thoughts you have. Conversely, the way you think about something has an effect on they specific words you select to convey your meaning. As much as this enhances the meaning of the language, it is virtually impossible that two people have had exactly the same experiences, and think about anything in a similar enough way so as to have the same association of a word. This creates a paradox, in which even though we convey more meaning through our words, we are less likely to fully understand each other’s true meaning, and the emotions we wish to convey through our words.
For example: when a person (we shall call Cedric) thinks a thought he wishes to convey (let us use a frozen pineapple drink) to his girlfriend (we shall call her Melinda), he might use the word “slurpee,” having grown up a block away from a 7-11. Melinda, who grew up in Alaska where there are neither 7-11 stores or need for frozen drinks, has no idea what a “slurpee” is, but hears the onomatopoeia “slurp,” and thinks of soft drinks. To her, the idea of a pineapple-flavored soft drink is ridiculous and almost repulsive, and she thinks Cedric quite strange. If he had used the word “slushy,” however, she would have associated the word “slush” with a wet form of snow common to Alaska, and would have better understood the concept he was trying to explain to her.

In this example, the thoughts that Cedric is thinking have affected the word he selected. Perhaps the particular item he was trying to explain was in fact shaved ice made from pineapple juice. Because of the experiences he has had in his life, he chose a word to associate with a texture. The word Cedric chose also affected the way Melinda thought about the item. Although Pinker presents a very substantial argument for “mentalese” existing even without spoken language (the idea that thoughts can exist without words), those without language in any form whatsoever would feel extremely solitary in any endeavors. To think that no other person in the world could possibly understand what you really mean by your words is a lonely enough feeling. To not be able to convey any meaning to anyone else, and live your live based solely on firsthand experiences must be much more so.

As is the case with Carroll’s character Humpty Dumpty, one person cannot grasp the full extent of another’s meaning without first realizing what each individual word means to the speaker. When Humpty starts assigning lengthy meanings to randomized words, however, it is apparent that he is trying to confuse Alice. As is indicated here, the true meaning of a word can only reliably be perceived by its user.

As to the original question of whether language has any effect on the process of thought, it seems the currently perceived truth is much more complicated than a simple codependence. It appears much more likely that language and thought are engaged in an interdependent relationship, from which neither can be removed. To remove one or the other would be to remove either communication of great thought, or to remove great thought from communication. Either way, the resulting scenario would be dumb.

6.08.2007

Who are you really? Who are you at your best?

Dear Ralph,
It is horrible of you to have presented us with such questions, as at least the first is only answerable posthumously. For any person to be able to judge who they truly are and correctly portray that to you or anyone else using the media of a formal essay is completely impossible, as at any moment who that person is may be drastically different than who that person was mere moments previous. It is only by reviewing the entirety of a life, and every single moment and action within it that we may even begin to identify patterns and trends in that person’s behavior, and then, the seven to ten pages having been written, it would be necessary for that person to be extinguished to prevent any future actions from negating the findings of the laborious examination of the compilation of that life. To even begin to assess a person’s life based on what they experience in a ten-week period is both presumptuous and irresponsible.
That having been said, the following is a severely under-educated, scantily founded theory of my personality, its structure and resolution, up to this moment.

Respectfully and Introspectively yours,
E. Margret Gliozzo






Superhero Identities



In addressing the questions “who are you really” and “who are you at your best,” the suggestion has been made that these two states are parallel, or even the same. It is understandable how this argument could be made, as it is tempting to claim that at we are, in every action that we take, true to our nature, and thus completely and totally our selves. This, however, is a very confined way of intellectualizing life. The idea that at every moment in our lives we are “at our best” does not sit well with me. To even attempt to say that we are at our best when we are eating, procrastinating, or performing other mindless tasks seems absurd. It seems “best” should be a term reserved for something much more fulfilling than the drone of every day life.

Many of the greatest psychological scientists of our time have felt similarly that we cannot possibly be always at our best. From the theories of Humanistic Psychology, for example, we get the spectrum of functionality, upon which we slip smoothly up and down like so many pistons. This spectrum is aptly named, for in addition to indicating the levels of possible threat to out mental health, it also indicates how well we are able to perform the tasks of our daily lives. Those lower on the functionality scale are more likely to be distracted, and not perform to the best of their ability. To be at the high end of the scale is to gain concentration, trust, creativity, self-control, and to truly be “at our best.”

Carl Rogers tells us that to get to a point on the spectrum where we are more fully functional, we need to be presented with three human conditions that allow us to observe our consciousness from an objective standpoint. These conditions are genuineness, unconditional positive regard, and empathy. The presence of these traits is helpful for a person to realize that he or she is not alone in having the feelings that arise, and portray to both the person providing these conditions, and to the person being provided these conditions that all humans are more alike than they may realize individually. This, in turn, leads us to be less ego-centered, and make us more acceptant of ourselves and of others.


“... As he finds someone else listening acceptantly to his feelings, [the client] little by little becomes able to listen to himself... While he is learning to listen to himself he also becomes more acceptant of himself... As these changes occur, as he becomes more self-aware, more self-acceptant, less defensive and more open, he finds that he is at last free to change and grow in the directions natural to the human organism... He becomes less defensive, and hence more open to his experience of himself and of others... He perceives other individuals with more realism and more acceptance... The more the client perceives the therapist as real or genuine, as empathic, as having an unconditional regard for him, the more the client will move away from a static, fixed, unfeeling, impersonal type of functioning, and the more he will move toward a way of functioning marked by a fluid, changing, acceptant experiencing of differentiated personal feelings.”
(Rogers, 1961, What We Know About Psychotherapy)


It is because of the distinction made by Rogers and similarly recognized psychologists that I believe that who I am really is not at all who I am at my best. When attempting to discern my “true” identity from my “best” identity, I find that the former is much more needs based, while the latter is able to better empathize with others, and assuage their suffering, because my own is small to non-existent. Abraham Maslow intellectualized this as a pyramid of deficiency needs. At the base of the pyramid, holding the most importance, are the physiological needs, such as sleep and sustenance. Ascending the pyramid, with increasing novelty, we find safety, affiliation, and esteem. At the very top of the pyramid, available only to those who for the moment have fulfilled all other needs, we reach self-actualization. Maslow believed strongly in freedom of choice, and that we may choose not to fulfill the deficiency needs, but also quite adamantly believed that without this fulfillment we would be incapable of reaching self-actualization. He also believed that if we so chose to ignore them they would not simply disappear, but would be ever present in our minds until we fulfilled them. My “best” personality resides in and around the ultimate level of self-actualization, and I am allowed to be passionate, compassionate, loving, supportive, patient, and creative because I have no urgent need to care for myself. I am also more capable of having what Maslow called “peak experiences,” and described as “a transient moment of self-actualization.”

“The term ‘peak experiences’ is a generalization for the best moments of the human being, for the happiest moments of life, for experiences of ecstasy, rapture, bliss, of the greatest joy.”
(Maslow, 1971, The Farther Reaches of Human Nature)


These moments, rare and wonderful as they are, separate the “true” self from the “best” self. While it is held true that when I’m at my best I can self-actualize, the converse is also true in that when I’m self-actualizing I am in fact at my best.
My “true” identity, however, pertains more to how I respond to the presence of my own deficiency needs. It is seen in my reaction to being so deficient, and concerns itself solely with the correction of these deficiencies. I hold it to be self-evident that who I am at my best is not who I am really simply because I am capable of making the distinction. Also indicative of separate selves is the fact that my moods change depending on which of my needs is presently active, making my ability to deal with the occurrences around me fluctuate.

Maslow, intelligent as he was, made a specific distinction between two basic kinds of psychology: deficiency psychology and being psychology. This indicates that he realized a constant struggle with a person’s hierarchy of needs was no way to live, and he placed hierarchal and real living in two different categories, firmly separating the “true” and “best” self concepts. In regards to the different behaviors, Maslow tells us there is a distinction between addressing deficiency needs (those directly related to the aforementioned pyramid) and growth needs, which motivate people beyond the lower level needs. When people attempt to address their growth needs it is taken positively, as indication that they desire a facet of life that is beyond simply satisfactory. It signifies that even though they could rest and be satisfied, they desire still greater improvement and growth. This he described as a need for transcendence, or the need to feel as if part of a larger situation. While in this mentality, it is easy to become more helpful and caring to others, viewing them as also part of the larger collective. This leads to a less individualistic mentality, as well as increased creative capacity.

Sigmund Freud and James Bugental would argue that our consciousness is a series of impulses and our personality is created by the actions we take to try to quell those impulses. Freud supplies us with the idea that we are fueled by sex and aggression, that we have no choice as to the nature of our “primitive ancient instincts,” but that we simply try to steer them. Bugental then tells us that it is truly the intended actions, not clothes, which make the man, but that the impulse to take these actions arises from unconscious impulses. Thus, for Bugental and Freud our “true” self is only concerned with satisfying our own needs, and appears much like the id of Freudian theory. Recalling my first assessment of my own “true” self, I notice it is full of id-like qualities, such as impulsivity, fear, and a primary concern with myself. My assessment of my “best” self, however, seems much more like an ego-ideal, and is marked by compassion, empathy, concern for others, potency, and competence.

Even in American pop culture we see a battle between the fully functional, “best” self, and the more inhibited “true” self. The most famed of all DC Comics characters is a man who at his best is capable of flight, incredible strength, unparalleled speed, amazing hearing, and a battery of enhanced ocular abilities. In every day life, however, he is a largely passive, introverted individual, with a conservatively “mild-mannered” temperament.

As Superman, the character is often seen saving New Yorkers from multiple forms of peril. He is confident, he is keenly interested in the welfare of others, he accepts himself for who he is, and accepts others for who they are, he controls himself, and answers to no one, he has an enhanced perception of reality, and he is incredibly spontaneous, appearing from nowhere to save the day.

As Clark Kent, however, the character is constantly befuddled at work, unable to focus. He is rarely present in reality, but is instead in his own world. He submits to others’ requests, and lives his life by the book. Not only is he not involved in others’ lives at all, spending most of his time working alone, he seems incapable of expressing himself to others. It is indisputable that Kent’s deficiency needs are not fulfilled. Though I’m sure he is well rested and well fed, and feels safe in knowing he is impenetrable, it seems his affiliation needs are not completely met. With the object of his affection, Lois Lane, Kent cannot seem to find the words to express how he feels, and so resolutely she is not interested in him (she instead prefers the suave, confidence of the courageous Superman). Because of this disability, Kent lives void of both affiliation and esteem, and can only be truly at his best when he is Superman, doing what he does best: saving the world.

In his natural state, we see that Kent is at his best, and that he must don normal human clothing to become his “true” self, which seems backwards. Approached from another perspective, however, we are able to theorize that the “best” state is the true self, and who we are “really” is referring to the overly critical superego construction we inflict upon ourselves. By this standard, I may say with confidence that I am a passionate, compassionate, caring, loving, supportive, understanding, empathetic, patient, competent person. I am not truly overly analytical, frightened of the socially drastic consequences of confrontation, or desperate for direction, as I once believed. I realize now that what I had believed to be my “true” self was a misconception of what I believed society to expect of me.

I am perfectly aware that I am not in any way original or individual in these misconceptions. I firmly believe in the idea that Freud, Bugental, Maslow, and Rogers (together as a group, or even individually) could have described me more perfectly than I ever could or have, indicating that they were all intelligent men, and knew a relatively large amount about what they were talking about. I am in no way as adept at describing the psychology of an entire human being as they are, and especially not at conveying my own personality. I have simply borrowed their terminology in an attempt to portray an idea; I have not made any revelations that will change the future of psychology. As new as I am to the terminology and ideology, I know it isn’t all exactly correct, and I may not be using the ideas or words for their original purpose, but it portrays the general idea of how I have come to consider myself quite nicely, and I truly appreciate that they have set out these parameters for me to compare myself to, if only to discover that I disagree with them.

5.18.2007

Spirits are a funny topic...

After not having blogged for quite some time, and having had many interesting conversations with people I see every day, some of whom I have the highest regard for, a topic of discussion has thrown itself upon me, like a sheet over the Holy Ghost.
The topic is a touchy one, and is decidedly multi-faceted, like a great disnub dirhombidodecahedron (204 faces, for those who care).

Tho topic is love, and relationships, and marriage, and soul mates, and whether or not the possibility exists that there is some one person out there who is perfect for each of us in every way, and that it's just a matter of finding them.

I don't know that I subscribe to that belief.

I don't think there is that one perfect person who fits exactly with you. I think it's much more about finding someone who affects you in such a way (makes you feel so happy, so excited, so aggravated, so tense, so much different than normal everyday life, which, for most of us, tends to be quite boring, actually) that you can overlook everything you don't like about them (or possibly even adapt to liking those things because they're familiar and reassuring), and are able to focus on that spectacular, insane feeling you get from being near them, from talking to them, or thinking about them.

Which is not to say I don't believe in fate. There are some things that when they happen, just feel perfect, and wouldn't be right any other way, such as Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. In time, the first four notes are three eighth notes and a half note (with fermata), or short-short-short-long. When represented on paper we see the motif dot-dot-dot-dash, which happens to be Morse code for the letter V, which doubles as the Roman numeral 5.

Or, for another, less impressive example: I started writing this blog about soul mates after drinking a piña colada my friend made for me. When most people think about piña coladas they think about the Rupert Holmes song, "Escape (the Piña Colada Song)," which is about a man who, bored with his wife, answers a personal ad which happens to have been placed by his wife. They both learn they have more in common than they knew before, but that doesn't prove that they're soul mates, or that soul mates even exist.

It's just a song.

But people still think of love as this fairy-tale thing, and from that we get phrases like "love at first sight," "true love," and "when it's right, you'll know," which are really kind of bullshit, and are going to infect our country and future generations with false ideals which in turn will cause catastrophic psychological unrest. Because in truth love comes from spending hours on end with someone, not from seeing them once and liking what they look like. And sometimes even when it is right you don't know, and lose everything. And there is no "true love." Because all love is true while you have it, but there is no guarantee that everything will stay even remotely okay. I will concede (purely to be reassuring) that we can and do observe couples for whom love appears pure, and it does seem that they have found each other in a world full of people. But we can't forget that we only see the tip of the iceberg, and a lot goes on behind the scenes. I would wager my life that they work at their relationship every bit as hard as the rest of us do, that aren't just fed life with silver spoons. Just because we perceive ease and spectacular connection doesn't mean there aren't some things they disagree about, some fights they just can't avoid.

It's just not possible for two people out of six billion seven hundred million to be perfectly suited to each other. The odds that two people could think that much alike with all the different lives we lead, and experiences we have are staggering. And the odds that those two people, everything considered, could have been raised in the same town, or even that they would meet at some point in their lives, are so enormous. And to think that they could somehow learn enough about each other to learn that they're perfectly matched is ridiculous.

There has to be more involved than that.

5.10.2007

There has GOT to be a higher form of communication...

I am exhausted!

Today I went through all the Grey's Anatomy groups, and found a bunch of people who said they liked that show on their profiles, and sent them a message that said "Hey! If you like Grey's Anatomy (and/or ice cream) you should come hang out with [us] tomorrow at 8pm at Phys Science Rm 136. We'll be making ice cream Sundays, and watching Grey's, and having lots of fun!"
I sent that message to EIGHTY-SIX people. Individually.

And may I just say....

Ugh.

Also, Eddie Izzard is hilarious.

I'm gonna go pass out now.
Cheers!

Excerpt from Eddie Izzard's Definite Article
"Roman History was fascinating though. 2000 years ago- I mean they murdered and killed a lot of people, but 2000 years ago, forgive and forget, eh? Let bygones be begones. Whatever a 'bygone' is... That's another saying, isn't it?
'Let bygones be bygones.'
'What's a bygone?'
'Well, it's a gone- it's a thing that's-'
Oh, it's a thing that's gone by, isn't it? I suppose... That makes sense. So some sayings are true. So what you do is you hit someone, and when they go. 'why the fuck'd you do that?' you say, 'oh, well, it's a bygone. It's already done! it's been done! No bother crying over bygones!' Look the bygones are going! It's the invasion of the bygones!"

5.06.2007

So this was fun...

This weekend was unexpectedly a trip to San Jose.
After Psych Friday I went to go flyer with Evelyn and Bridget, except we realized we had no flyers, so we got Noelle and went to lunch. After lunch we watched Peter Pan, and then Evelyn went off to administrate Greek Week, and Noelle and I watched about the first quarter of Nurse Betty, and then I headed back, fully intending a nap. Instead, as I was coming in, Jaime was at the door, and asked if I wanted a ride back to SH. I said yes, and we left, and halfway through he invited me to the city with him to hang out, and he'd drive me home later that night. Well, as it turned out, he left his ID in Santa Cruz, so we didn't stay long. We did, however, have dinner at this AMAZING little Thai place called The Citrus Club on Haight. It was sooo good, and the plates were really big, and we had two entrées and an appetizer for literally twenty bucks!
After that he took me home, though, and went back to SC.

Later that night, I met the Boy on my bridge over 17, and we talked for two hours. We talked about random things, we talked about normal conversation things, and we talked about things that really mattered. I completely surprised myself by being completely genuine the whole time, not trying to be anything, or withhold anything, and just telling him how I really felt (which, incidentally, clued me in as well). I told him how I still loved him, that I never stopped loving him, and that it would be impossible for me to hate him as much as I do without still loving him. I told him that I couldn't see me trusting him, and he said he didn't understand how he had betrayed me, so I explained to him how he had removed the one constant, stable, good thing in my life at the exact moment when that support was what I really needed. I told him about how he was the only guy I had ever seriously considered a future with. I explained to him that the reason I didn't want to talk to him, and removed him from everything was because every time I saw him online, or saw an update about him, I once again felt that sledgehammer to my chest. And I explained to him that the reason we could never be together again was not because I could never learn to trust him again (because I could definitely relearn that), but because we couldn't go back to what we had, and whatever we would have would never be as beautiful as it was. It would always be the Second Chance, and would never be able to truly compare. I also told him about my blog (Skeletons) and about the part where if at the end of my life I were offered to do it all again, even with everything I have been through I would do it just for those five months.

And the whole time he kept reminding me how this was the only decision he regretted making, and how sorry he was, and how he wished he could take it back. He never offered any feelings, or experiences. He never mentioned any sort of growth from it, only that it was a regret, and emphasized how he tries not to regret anything. He hasn't changed at all, hasn't learned anything. I think he's just insecure, and wants me to forgive him so that he can go back to pretending the world is perfect, and he's never done any harm. He's so disconnected from reality, it's almost frightening. I don't think he realizes that things aren't that simple. He wanted me to reassure him that I wouldn't hate him forever. I told him I never truly hated him, but that I was angry with him, and incredibly disappointed in him. I think he took that as a good thing. I think that made him feel better. I don't think he realizes how upset with him I really am. I didn't even realize it until I was there, standing thirty feet above rushing traffic at two in the morning telling him. But I am still mad at him. I am still incredibly disappointed in him. I am still upset that he trashed my life on a whim like that.

Anyone who knows me really well can tell you that it takes a lot for me to be able to trust someone. And betrayal of that magnitude is exactly what I'm trying desperately to protect myself from. But it shouldn't take this long, should it? Isn't the rule of thumb that it takes half as long as the relationship to get over it? And yet here I am, five months after a five month relationship, still tortured, still feeling the shiver of steel twitch into the muscles of my heart as if the blood were spilled only yesterday. I've gotten much better at hiding it, but it's still there. And that worries me. Because it means I had much more invested than I realized, and cared much more about it, about him, than I ever knew. It means I really did lose something that really mattered to me. And I think that hurts more than anything.



Anyway, today I took Nina to the mall to get a birthday present for Beth, and then went to see Beth. Then a little later I went and picked up elskan mín, Ariel, and food, and we ate, and talked, and sat in the hot tub, and I remembered why I like that so much. She, Nina, and I stayed in there until we were all almost falling asleep, and I didn't get her home until a good two hours past when her dad told her to be home.

But, gawd, I miss her. Life is so much more comfortable with her, and I feel like I just want to snuggle up to her and fall asleep. The whole time we were remembering how much fun we had spending virtually every minute together all last summer. And I really miss that. She really is one of those people who makes it easier to understand why the world is spinning, and it's never cold with her, even on the windiest, rainiest of nights. And now, even though I love school, and I love my classes, and everything is wonderful, I can't wait for summer to start so I can be constantly near her again. She's such an awesome person, and she's just generally fun to be around.

5.03.2007

Politics.

Americans are such sheep.
There is no scientific education anymore, it has all been polluted by editorial views of whoever happens to be teaching it at the moment. Even in Biology classes, the subject matter is injected with bitter political opinions. I mean, I realize this is Santa Cruz, but it is also supposed to be a respected academic institute.

In Infectious Diseases today, my professor actual ended an overview of a disease by saying, "But of course, the current Administration doesn't believe this actually exists, and disputes it fervently."

WHO CARES who thinks it exists??? If it is killing people, and we need to know about it, tell us about it in class. It doesn't matter who THINKS what about what, if it's an infectious disease what they THINK isn't going to stop it from killing people!!!

Yes, we're in Santa Cruz. Yes, I realize you hate Republicans. Yes, I am also of the opinion that the war sucks, and we shouldn't trust what we're being told.

But this is academia, people! I don't need to know what the president thinks about the existence of a disease that is killing people. The president's opinion is not going to be on the test, is not going to affect the disease in any way, and does NOT need to be injected into your lecture.

4.25.2007

Thoughts on the World

People are a parasite on the organism that is Earth. There are too many, and Earth is trying to get over this illness through tactics that any organism would use, and becoming inhospitable. But we are attacking too many of the systems at once- polluting the oceans, killing the animals, depleting the ozone... This is such a serious infestation that Earth may never recover from us.
We are AIDS to planets.
--Inspired by James Lovelock

"When people fall in love with what seems to be a "perfect" theory (a set of rules), and they love those rules more than they love people or places... they start to see the messy reality of life as interfering with the beauty -the imagined beauty- that exists only in their ... sacred texts, whether they're economic texts, or religious texts, or some dream of racial purity... the flip side of the love is that hatred for anything or anyone that interferes with that system."

"It doesn't have the ability to think rationally, this economic model: it thinks like a drug addict. 'Where can I get my next fix?' It doesn't learn wisely. If we think of any kind of measure of natural wisdom would be if you make a mistake you correct it the next time around. But a drug addict feels terrible, and then says, 'I want more.' And unfortunately we have an economic model that thinks like a crack addict."

--Naomi Klein

"... Whenever something bad happens like a war, like a big accident, or a tsunami, or a giant storm, anything like that, you find there are people that always freeze on the spot, and get killed. And there are others who recognize the warning signs, take action, and move, and save themselves. And they get selected. And in the course of the warm-up of the earth, this is going to happen: the ones with the sense of survival will migrate, and move... The others will just stay put, and hope that something will save them, and it won't."

"I don't know what to tell [my grandchildren] except the truth, what will be happening, and the options as I see them. But it's really going to be up to them. The best thing I can do is to encourage them, and get them to regard it with a sense that not only is it awful, and terrible, but [that] also there's an adventure there, and a chance of improvement, and that they should continue to have their children. They shouldn't say, 'Oh, what's the point of giving birth to children now, with a world like that ahead?' the whole point of natural selection will be spoiled if they do that, because they are the very people who should be having children!"

--James Lovelock

JTDC

I would like to call your attention once again to a post from February eighth, entitled, Skeletons.

This post has once again become a potent mindset for me, although there is a slight shift from upset to defeated.

But the basic sentiment is the same.
More on this later.


Jesus Tap Dancing Christ

4.24.2007

Technological Advances

With all our brilliance we've created ubercomputers, Tivo, and cars that park themselves.

So why is it that we still haven't found a way to synthetically produce honey?
I mean, we don't even have a honey substitute. Why is that?
We have plenty of substitutes for other things, like sugar, oil, starch, even milk. Why not honey? If we can observe the molecular composition of honey, shouldn't we also be able to come up with a way to replicate it?
Is it really that hard to do?
Are bees really that much smarter than us?

Why is it that there is no Splenda or VitaSoy of the honey world???

4.20.2007

I am completely and utterly alone in the world.

There's no sense in avoiding it anymore: I have no one.

Nobody cares what I have to say, or what I'm thinking. At the end of the day, there's no one I can talk to, not a single person. They are all too busy Dancing Through Life to notice that I need help. I can't do this on my own. I am so lost here.

They pretend to care, but really the human race is just so damned egoist, no one could ever truly be selfless.
And then there's the ones who just outright hate me. And that's just mean. I mean, I don't care that you don't like me. I'm not asking you to like me. I have plenty of experience dealing with large groups of people that just don't like me. But do you have to bury me in salt after you skin me? Isn't it enough for you that we just don't interact? Can't you be satisfied without spending all the energy to hate me? Can't you just goddamn leave me alone???

People ask other people where they think they'll be in ten, twenty years, or for the rest of their lives.

Well, I see myself alone. And I'll go to work, whatever it may be, and I'll come home, wherever that'll be, and then that's it. And I'll do that every day for years, because there'll be nothing else to do, and I'm too much of a fucking coward to do anything about it.

So my existence is going to amount to pretty much zero....
And I mean, I hate that. But what are you gonna do?

4.17.2007

Liviu Librescu

Yesterday morning at Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University (Virginia Tech) twenty-nine people were injured, and thirty-three murdered in the largest, most fearsome massacre in the history of school shootings in the US. One among the fallen was a member of Kappa Kappa Gamma. This does not make her special, or set her apart from the other victims, it simply intensifies the pain and loss that I feel, and personalizes the attack for me.

Another of the slain was a man of great personal and academic achievement, as well as tremendous scholarly merit. As a native and escapee of Communist Romania, and a survivor of the Holocaust, he had an incredible understanding of the value of life, and lived his accordingly. He was the recipient of many engineering and science awards from multiple countries, including Romania, Armenia, the Ukraine, Italy, and the United States. He held multiple diplomas for his achievements in science, and held the title of Doctor Honoris Causa of the Polytechnic Institute of Bucharest, Romania. He was named in the Who's Who of Engineering, Science and Engineering, America, and the World. He was a member of the editorial board for multiple Academic Journals, Chair and Co-Chair of international engineering committees, and on multiple advisory boards and international organizing committees. He taught many courses at Virginia Tech, and had published many books and journals.

His wife was named Marlena, and his son was Joe. Even while in Romania, he stood out, refusing to swear allegiance to the Communist regime. while working at a government aerospace company. Later, when he was fired for asking to move to Israel, the Israeli Prime Minister himself intervened to get an emigration permit for his family.

He must have been amazing to talk to, or even to listen to. Lectures must have been incredible. Imagine being able to look deep into the eyes of one so acutely aware of both the most evil acts of man, as well as some of the greatest acts of kindness that one person can bestow upon another. To have such knowledge, and then to sacrifice oneself to save a room full of students so that they too can feel the effect of the goodness of mankind is purely divine. Those students who were saved by him must surely mourn the loss of such a god.

But to be able to look into those eyes, and see all they have seen, and then chose to ravage and destroy such an existence is stupefying to me. There is a certain feeling that hunters describe when the animal they have been stalking turns and looks at them eye to eye, or when the view the animal looking majestic, that consumes them, makes them want to cry, and incapacitates them for a moment, and they don't shoot. It is a certain awe-filled reverence that apparently played no part in this massacre. And who does he think he is, he who dares destroy that? He is not worthy of standing in the same room. Why is it that he is granted the power to remove such a force of good from the world? How has it come about that one with a character so weak as to be so consumed by pain, or terror, or whatever emotion it was and driven to such madness can overcome such a potent being?

At that very moment, when the trigger was tugged, and the hammer dropped, and the bullet started its rotation, and when it emerged from its steel bed to burrow into the man who stood in its way, there was an indisputable balance. This moment marked a meeting of pure goodness with encompassing ill intent. Both were destroyed in this clash, but the goodness lives on. It lives in the hearts of every one of those who escaped because of the actions of this man, and it lives on in the faith in it that has been reinforced, and it lives on even in the way the aggression was extinguished.

Many lives have been changed by Liviu Librescu. With a single act of selfless kindness his influence has reached back to Romania, to the scientific communities worldwide, to Jerusalem, and even to Santa Cruz, into the heart and soul of a poet, and has reinstated Life.

Human existence was created so that people like Liviu Librescu could demonstrate such goodness. If there is a meaning to life it is so we can feel so alive as we have been made to feel. Even through pain are we living, and that is simply why we live.


4.16.2007

Lethargy

... except that's not quite the word for it.

It's like a pint of lethargy, with a shot of depression, laced with exhaustion... Yeah, that's more accurate.

And I know in this state if I were to somehow find myself in the ocean, I would sink without even putting up a fight. Down I would go, cloaked by the embrace of the undulations, plunging like such wreckage.

Submitting without resistance, I would feel the increasing constraint of the sea as I sank. I would greet as I sank many animals and fish, going about their business. They would not look up as I passed, because I would not disturb them.

And when I finally reached the soft layer at the bottom of the sea that is covered in the thick bed of plant life, I would find a round spot of sand, and curl close as a cat. And there in the deep resounding soundlessness I would sleep.

In the arms of Morpheus I would find security, and we would both revel in the intimacy and familiarity. And while we embraced the silence would carry our tenderness in its teeth. And while we had each other he would groan, and be stung at my woe.

Far below the world we would stay, isolated by our trust.

4.11.2007

Singers

"Jesus Christ, I'm alone again.
So what did you do those three days you were dead?
Cuz this problem's going to last
more than the weekend.

Jesus Christ, I'm not scared to die,
I'm a little bit scared of what comes after.

...

I know you think that I'm someone you can trust,
But I'm scared I'll get scared
and I swear I'll try to nail you back up.
So do you think that we could work out a sign?
So I'll know it's you and that it's over so I won't even try."


This morning I found a spider web stretching across my room, and the spider close by. I trapped it in a jar, and not knowing what to do with it, left it with no way of getting out or getting air while I went to class.

Well, I came back, and found it, having completely forgotten, and shook the jar.

As if it weren't bad enough, my nearly asphyxiating the thing, I had to go pick on it when it had no defenses whatsoever. Logically, I know there is no possible way it could've defended itself against me, and I shouldn't've shaken the jar. I hate the fact that it made a dull thwacking noise as I inhumanely flung it against the metal lid of the jar, but I especially hate that the sound was repeated, as hearing it didn't stop me.

I can't believe I did that, and now I feel so horrible. The thought that I could be so mean disgusts me, but to consider that I actually did... I'm completely nonplussed.

Humans are a stupid, brutal race, and I exemplify all our worst qualities.



Go here. Listen to this dog. Yes, dog.
(This is the part of the blog for which the entire post was titled.)

4.07.2007

Analgesic Rebound

So, I went to Kaiser because my head always hurts, and I have memory issues.

The first doctor had no idea what was wrong, so she prescribed Midrin (a pain killer used for both tension headaches and migraines) and gave me an appointment with an neurologist. When I went to see said neurologist, he told me that I am on analgesic rebound.

Basically, ALL drugs are habit forming, even ibuprofen and acetaminophen, no matter what you hear from anyone. And so the only way for me to get my head to NOT hurt is to not take painkillers. I must embrace the pain, and learn to ignore it, and this could take months.

This is exactly why I never liked taking medications. And exactly why I never did up until this year. Stupid irony sucks ass.

Oh, and supposedly the memory thing will straighten out on its own, and if it doesn't i have to go back for "rigorous testing."

So, if you see me, I'll probably be in pain...

3.30.2007

This girl makes me feel fuzzy... <3

02:16:33 dracoaurea: i don't know if you've noticed, but i AM pretty strange, and socially inept...
02:16:58 sincerelysadie: hahahha
02:17:00 sincerelysadie: well
02:17:05 sincerelysadie: theres ppl like ME out there
02:17:12 sincerelysadie: who dont care HOW strange or socially inept you are
02:17:14 sincerelysadie: a friend is a friend
02:17:18 sincerelysadie: and if theyre like me
02:17:23 sincerelysadie: they'll know youre a good one to have
02:17:23 sincerelysadie: see
02:17:26 sincerelysadie: you and i
02:17:29 sincerelysadie: we have this relationship
02:17:32 dracoaurea: :)
02:17:38 sincerelysadie: where i know its soley based on trust
02:17:57 dracoaurea: and killing boys
02:18:03 sincerelysadie: hahaha
02:18:04 sincerelysadie: like i know
02:18:10 dracoaurea: <3
02:18:12 sincerelysadie: if i were ever to say "i want you to fuck this guy up"
02:18:17 sincerelysadie: and i didnt give you a reason
02:18:22 sincerelysadie: you'd do it
02:18:26 sincerelysadie: just cuz i said so
02:18:27 dracoaurea: I'm Italian.
02:18:31 sincerelysadie: and i know id do the same for you
02:18:35 sincerelysadie: and i believe
02:18:38 sincerelysadie: that kind of friendship
02:18:45 sincerelysadie: comes with a certain trust and bond

3.25.2007

So you know that thing...

... where your subconscious identifies the thing that is most bothersome to you at the time, and makes it the center of your dreams, and then emphasizes and enlarges it until the dream turns into a nightmare, and that one thing takes over your dream, and make the night uncomfortable and tense, and then also takes over your morning, and puts you in a bad, defensive, isolated, acutely depressed mood for at least the first few hours, if not the whole day? Yeah, well, I hate that. I hate having the feeling that my subconscious can know so much about the rest of me, I hate that my own mind can choose to take advantage of a weakness like this and use it against me. I have no reason to do that to myself! I don't have anything against me...

So why is my brain pouring salt on my own wounds?

3.21.2007

In a completely hypothetical way...

If two people have a relationship, and they split up, and he finds and marries someone else, and then the first couple starts having an affair.....

Who would be "the other woman?"

3.20.2007

Just so nobody knows...

Since I know nobody reads this... I suppose it's just for me. Gosh that makes me feel lonely. Publish something that the entire freaking world can access, and there isn't one person out of 6 billion interested enough to read it... but anyway...

Non-existence sounds really great right about now...

I don't mean death... I love living, it can be incredibly fun. Just maybe suspended animation, or something. Some way to continue living in the future, but not have to be here right now.

Or, if it's possible, maybe I can have the part of my brain that controls emotions removed so I can stop beating myself up over the stupidest insignificant little things... hmmm. I wonder if that's even possible. I'm sure wherever that part of the brain is, it's been located already... probably in the frontal lobe... oh, wait...

This has already been done, popularized, and condemned... It's called Frontal Lobotomy... huh. Ironic.

But of course, without ANY emotion there really is no point to life...

Anyway.

Back to writing out mine.

3.18.2007

Wisdom From Fake Robot Boy

"When I was young, my mother and I used to have fierce fights. We have 'philosophical differences' on how to live life (your average parent-child relationship). One of these arguments in particular left us both worn and drained, and I was on the verge of giving up. She told me to put my hands out and she hit them away, then she told me to put them out again, and she hit them away again. She kept asking and I kept reaching out, and then she stopped asking and I kept reaching out. 'That' she said 'Is what love is.'

"I have never since heard an explanation of the nature of love that is so simple and clear. We reach out to the ones that we love, knowing that we will get hurt and that we will be pushed away, expecting to get hurt and pushed away. Regardless, we continue to reach out to them because we love them and we know that they need us to reach out to them and offer our support even if they can't always say it."



This blog can be found in its original context here.

3.15.2007

this was fun to write...

a first paragraph
full of crazy words
did not absorb lacks of things
brought down by a slight
nothing was right within this
OMIT THIS PAST STANZA

truth has no part in generality
but generality is truth
this is the truth but you know it
you’re fit but you know it
you’re sick but you know it

I am a spy, leading two lives at once.
I You can won’t do find anything. me.
IYcoaunwdooanntyftihnidnmge.

“I want you came to me.”
You’ve made a syntax error.
Go back and change your command.

Compare my love
with your lack thereof.
Go where it hurts
and then deeper.

And then I realized: I’m not me... I’m you.

Fine.

Salamis, lasagnas, and palindromes.
Oh, My.
You know you can say it backwards...
Mom, Dad, Bob, and Anna.
Docious Ali Expi Listic Fragi Cali Rupus

and when the Matador
in his fancy, romantic, perfect, brave suit
gets himself pierced
the fall from grace lined with his blood
end of the courtship, beautiful romance

and with my one last gasping breath
I apologize for bleeding on your shirt

Sunset is the horizon’s favorite time of day.

3.10.2007

I've developed a new appreciation for Australians.

It's strange I never realized it before, it makes perfect sense...

Excuse me, for I don't mean to be crass, but may I just say...


MY GAWD.




Also, I think there needs to be a screenplay written for Kyle Gallner involving Michelangelo's David. I don't know about the rest of you, but I think the resemblance is uncanny...I don't know why...
I don't think Gallner is even Greek... And his features are softer because he's definitely younger than David... But I don't think there is any one person on the planet who looks more like David...

So I think I'm going to take it upon myself to start writing this... Or at the very least start jotting down ideas for it. It's been long enough that hollywood has continued to thrive without some sort of tribute to Michelangelo...

And it's not like it will be easy for anyone... I still have to WRITE the damned thing, pitch it, and get it made... But don't think it stops there, it won't just be me who's working...
Obviously Gallner will have to start working out some,
because let's face it:


There are no 21 year old boys built like this. Or rather, there are, but they are few, and far between, and our lovely Kyle Gallner is just not one of them...

But yeah...

That's your horoscope for today...

3.08.2007

600mg of Methylxanthine

for all those wondering, and even you who weren't: bad idea

So yesterday I spent fourteen hours learning about and utilizing moral psychology. (If I were you, I wouldn't ask about this. It's a big, long story that I don't want to tell, and you don't want to hear.) Around 11:20, I found myself wavering, and drank about 80%of an Upshot (270mg methylxanthine). The rest went to Yvette. Of course it did what it was supposed to, and I was able to continue for another few hours. At four thirty, we called it quits, and I fell asleep around 6:15. I woke up the next morning at 9 to work on another project, eerily similar. I had class at noon, so around 11:35 I drank another Upshot (330mg).

For the first hour, I was incredibly alive. I had an hour of heightened senses. I was better able to retain information, I was more eager and better able to participate in class discussion. Then I found I was more opinionated. Then I found I was more bitchy. Then I had a convulsion. A single moment of complete spontaneous muscle contraction. And then there's the nausea. I've been fighting that for about seven hours now. All I want to do now is puke, so I can sleep successfully.

In conclusion, this has been one of if not The most medically unsound decision I've ever made.

The human body is not made to take 600mg of such powerful stimulants within 24-hours, especially if so few of them are spent sleeping, so few eating. So I implore you to learn from my terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad mistake.


---
As a small addition, it took me until 3 in the morning to fall asleep.

The crappiest part was that I couldn't gag myself, no matter how I tried. For some reason I have incredible control over the suppression of my reflexes.

3.06.2007

Holidays, California, and the Missing Link

A complaint filed by me, to me, during the winter holidays.


The holidays have always been a time of happiness and good will. We all trust that the celebration of the various religious holidays will overcome anything we may be feeling toward one another. In World War Two, there was a temporary hiatus in the battle between the German and British armies while the soldiers climbed from the trenches, and sung carols together on Christmas Eve. Today, government and big business alike release the indentured people, and allow them to celebrate with family and friends. Just the idea of spending a peaceful evening curled up by the fire spreads warmth into our hearts that spirits never could.

But for most Californians the winter season is not a time of peace and snow, but a time of terrifying torrential rain, which brings downed power lines, increased traffic jams, and terrifying gas and electric heating bills. The silent white we associate with the holidays has never shown itself in California, and the effect has become more and more noticeable- in the giant, fast cars we drive, in the hours we spend working, even in the way we interact with each other. Californians are a rude, selfish, aggressive people. Sure, we have our fun, but when it’s time to get things done we all prefer to have things run smoothly, and when that doesn’t happen, we get stressed out, and start biting off heads.

This lack of snow is unacceptable. California needs to be whipped into shape, and snow needs to start falling, if not for the beauty it’ll bring our state at least for the sanity of the people living here. Our people have been so snow deprived for so long that we have developed a powdered substitute that becomes snow when watered. As fun as this product is to watch, feel, and play with, it will never be a substitute for the calm, clean-slate feeling we get from a nice thick layer of real snow.

2.25.2007

Tomorrow was a funny day...

I should logically have written this down yesterday, or this morning, but both those options were inopportune...

It started out a bad day.

I got up at eleven because I had an interview for a job as an RA at around one. I started my period, and then I locked myself out. Amanda bailed me out, though, with her crafty skills with a pole...

The interview wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be... And didn't seem as long as it actually was. And so then I got my stuff together, and went to take the latin quiz that we have every Friday.

I got there, and looked at it, and went, "oh, shit...." but I got through it. And then I left. Didn't stay for the class part, only the quiz part, which I've done before. I went back toward my room, but before I got in the building, I saw Jaime sitting outside, upset, so I went over, and we talked, and he was having some issues, so I offered to make him rice to cheer him up. He agreed that would be nice, and we went to our rooms, and I invited K for rice too, and she said she was just about to ask me to the dining hall with her. So I asked Jaime what he would rather do, and he said he was meeting a friend relatively soon, and he wanted to shower.

So I went to the dining hall with K. I don't know what it was, but I was filled with such an energy! Like if I had jumped high enough I could have levitated. We ate, and then she came back with me to meet Geoffrey and eat Jelly Babies.

A little later, I went down to the ATM and got some cash, and Yvette and Jay picked up me and Genevieve, and the three of us went to dinner while he was... somewhere else, I don't really know. Well, we talked, and ate, and had some general fun. Then Jay showed back up, and we went down to Boardwalk Bowl to the bar there to watch Jay's band, Undecyded. The girls didn't have any cash on them, so I funded a bottle of Sailor Jerry's and some Sobes. Then inside one of Jay's friends bought Yvette a Jack&Coke, and Jay's mom came to the show, which was cool in a couple ways.

She knew all the lyrics to their songs. And Genevieve and Emily are her daughters names (Jay's little sisters). Then Beth called, and I talked to her for a little bit, and then we went back up to campus. I went up and hung out with Amanda, Annika, Elizabeth, and Hana, and Annika was doing her laundry, and found someone's pot they had washed in the dryer. SO we tacked it to Minh's board, and wrote "Hey Minh, someone washed their pot! Lol" and that was fun. I drank a whole 32 oz gatorade, and went to the bathroom NINE times between when I came home and when I finally fell asleep.

Then I had this crazy random dream that I was making out with some guy I didn't know, and I knew in the dream that I didn't know him...

And so that was my Friday...
Then today I went down Mission to an aquarium store, and bought Geoffrey a piece of acrylic log to hide under, and a small tank heater so I can stop worrying about him being cold... And then went to Purna's for a KKG event where we all sat around eating pancakes and talking, and watching video three of the Carmen Electra Strip Tease video series. Then we went back to campus, and K and I made rice, and went and retrieved her boy Chris from his Theta Chi function, and we all went back and had rice.

This weekend has seemed a LOT longer than all the others so far... Don't know why that is...

Oh, yeah, and I have to do lots of Latin hw and read Malcolm X's Autobiography As Told To Alex Haley by Tuesday. All of it.

That's all...

2.22.2007

Oh, Geoffrey.

Let me preface this by saying that I am incredibly sorry that your home is so small. I, too, wish you could break free, and swim to me. Also, I'm sorry that the rocks don't allow for you to bury yourself. I know you'd like to hide, and would probably be much warmer, and I'm working on getting you sand for these purposes. Also, I know you like things warmer, and I'm sorry I can't find any good way of saving you from the cold.

But I'm so excited to have you living with me. It gives me fireworks inside when you put your nose up toward mine, when it calms you that I'm near, and when you swim around I could watch you forever. I can't wait until you're old enough to sing. To hear you will be like watching rain from the warm side of a window.

Feel safe in knowing that I'll take care of you, and will never leave you. If at least one of us can have that constant, I'll be happy for you. You know that you are not alone. I need you like water in my lungs.

Happy Swimming!

2.14.2007

Hnoss

((An exercise in changing a myth.))


My mother once told me
That you were a swine
No, that’s wrong.
Her swine.

She said you were changed
To always be near her
And never to worry
What Daddy saw.

Uncle Freyr knew but he never told
Because you both knew, too
What Grandpa would do
If he ever found out about Her.

Freyr’s Giant was worse than
Anything
You or I
Could ever do.

And even the magic
That she taught to Daddy
He could never see
What was happening.

And she with her kingdom war-dead and he with his
And he thought my beauty was a union of deities.

They were his gift
To her, you know.
She kept half
And he kept her.

Even when every time he left
She cried tears of red gold.
She stayed with him
Even so.

Because of you.
Because of me.
Because of the offering.

But not because of the love, which she held most dear.
That’s what we were for.

And now, every time she travels
In her cart
Pulled by her lioncats
She knows.

All her love for,
All her attraction to,
All her battles of,
Her death, her magic, her wealth of

You.

She thinks of me,
And all I represent,
With my beauty,
And all I resent.

But I’ve taken her cloak;
The one from the redbirds.
And fly away with it
To find and return things.

Her necklace.
My freedom.

2.13.2007

I should be writing an essay right now...

I found out last night that my little sister was invited to the sixteenth birthday party of a set of twins she has known and been friends with for ten years. She was eager to go, of course, and looked forward to it for over a week. But when she got there, these sixteen-year olds were drinking and smoking, and their single mother was not in the house. So my little sister left. After a five minute walk she showed back up at my parents house, and informed them. My mom and their mom are good friends, so she'll undoubtedly hear about it.

But it brings me to tears with pride that my little sister has the will power and strength of character to walk away from people who she has loved and trusted for a decade rather than partake in such activities.

I have always known Babyladee was awesome, even without justification, but now I can prove it to those I tell. I also take solace in the fact that she is not as impressionable as I have previously believed, and can absolutely stand up for herself and what she believes is right, even if it's not popular. She is a hero.

I just wish I could hug her right now.

2.10.2007

Poor Nina......

So last night something was said to me that made me think, and made me a little bit upset...

"Poor Nina, you left her all alone!"

As if my going to college caused Nina to suddenly have no friends, and nothing to do. As if hanging out with me were the only thing she ever did before.

When Stephanie left I lost an older sister, and nobody felt bad for me. And Nina's WAY more independent than me, too. And it's not like I never see her, she only lives a half-hour away. And this has brought her closer to her dog, who used to get lots of attention from me, but doesn't now, and needs that attention. He gets it from his MOTHER now...

And what was I supposed to do, anyway? Do people really expect me to have never moved away or go to college, ever? Did I miss the part where I was destined to stay in my parents house doing nothing with my life so that NINA could feel more comfortable in hers? Is that really what these people want from me???

That's fucking ridiculous!!!

I love my little sister, but I will not sacrifice my life so that she can feel more comfortable because I'll always be there. The world just doesn't work that way. I need to have my life too.

And if that's not what was mean by that statement, maybe that statement shouldn't be made, because that's what it implies. Maybe that should be considered before anyone makes any more comments like that. Think about what you're really saying.

Is that so hard?

2.08.2007

Skeletons

You know how sometimes life has been crappy for a while, and then things get better, and then something drastically bad happens, and as that's being sorted out, and you're starting to feel good that "at least I don't have to deal with THAT anymore" life just turns around and slaps you on the face?

I hate that.

Especially when it sucks. Which just happens to be always. I don't understand why some people can't just leave well-enough alone. If you fucked up, and I've told you to be able to forgive you and forget about it (which is something you want) I need some time to NOT think about you, why in the world would that make it seem to you like I want you trying to make casual conversation with me? Can't you see it's killing me? Don't you understand that if you try to force yourself on me, I'm only going to hate you more? Especially after doing something like that. You should know enough by now to know that I'm not just going to forget about it and let everything go back to what it was. I have been known to forget everyday little things, but you should know by now that the odds of me forgetting what you've done are staggering. Especially if you keep randomly occurring in my life.

I love you. What happened there was probably the most amazing experience I have or will ever had. And if at the end of my life I were presented the option to cease to exist or to repeat my life over, exactly as it was, nothing changed at all, I would probably jump at the opportunity to experience That again, because all things considered, even everything I've been through doesn't seem so intolerable.

But I beg of you, Please, please, stop this torture. I want to be able to remember you for every amazing moment we had, every breath I took that was enriched because I was near you. Not the fact that you wouldn't let me go. I don't want to see you as a negative presence in my life, and so I need you to not be in my life.

I know it seems selfish of me to ask this of you, and I know I would never truly be writing this if I even thought there was any way you might some day find it. But don't I deserve my turn? You were selfish once, and it cost me my life. At least let me attempt the tangled mess of my life in peace. Please. Let me rest in peace.

It's not really so big a request. Just, stop.

Frederick Wilhelm Nietzsche, "On the Genealogy of Morals" section 14

"-and impotence does not require into 'goodness of heart'; anxious lowliness into 'humility'; subjection to those one hates into 'obedience' (that is, to one of whom they say he commands this subjection-- they call him God). The inoffensiveness of the weak man, even the cowardice of which he has so much, his lingering at the door, his being ineluctably compelled to wait, here acquire flattering names, such as 'patience,' and are even called virtue itself; his inability for revenge is called unwillingness to revenge, perhaps even forgiveness ('for they know not what they do-- we alone know what they do!'). They also speak of 'loving one's enemies'-- and sweat as they do so...
They are miserable, no doubt of it, all these mutterers and nook counterfeiters, although they crouch warmly together-- but they tell me their misery is a sign of being chosen by God; one beats the dogs one likes best; perhaps this misery is also a preparation, a testing, a schooling, perhaps it is even more-- something that will one day be made good and recompensed with interest, with huge payments of gold, no! happiness. This they call 'bliss.'"

2.04.2007

... And I wish for one more day to give my love and repay debts, but the morning finds our bodies washed up thirty miles west...

The world is a cold, cold place.

Keep your friends as close as you can, because you'll never know when you're going to need them, but be aware, and recognize when they've become your enemies.

Know that true friends are not the ones who climb the ladder, but the ones who'll stay with you when you get pushed off.

Know that what happens the first time around isn't nearly as important as what happens after you've forgiven what happened the first time around.

And above all else, know that those who truly love you will always support you, and will never abandon you for flashiness and power, no matter how attractive and easy it gets.




((Also, remember that they don't all suck, only the ones in power...))

This is the mug shot of Rosa Parks, to remind you that those who change the world are often unappreciated.

2.02.2007

=throws party=

Yay!

Hooray for technology, hooray for insurance, hooray for living only so far away, hooray for my daddy!

All these things have come together, and made everything better.
Dad brought me my new phone which isn't anywhere as cool as my old one, but a phone nonetheless. And I have to admit, the video/photo thing is pretty sweet...


This is the new phone....

2.01.2007

“How are you?” he asked, genuinely concerned. She didn’t look at him, but rather continued segregating her M&Ms. “Did you know,” she retaliated, “that the human body is capable of millions of emotions, yet we can only find names and words for the tiniest fraction of them?”


I just liked this. I wrote it for LTCR. It was an exercise in indirect discourse...

1.30.2007

Mood: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I hate life.

So I still don't have a phone. Supposedly I'm gonna get one within the next few days, but it's not here yet, so it does no good.

I didn't have an alarm clock this morning, so I woke up three minutes before my class started. I got over there, and as soon as I walked in we started reading the Communist Manifesto AS A GROUP. Not like, one person reads, then the next person... no no. We all must read at the same time. So we staged a protest, and walked out. Five of us. And thirteen stayed. Then we did group work, and were told that our talking was distracting. But that's what group work is about. Communication.

I need to wear all white for the initiation this Saturday, but alas, as I am me, I have no white. So I went and bought some. Except that the white I bought has black on it, and we're not allowed black at all. Not even a little. So I have to buy different white -a skirt, btw, it has to be a skirt- and I found some, no problem. At macy's online there's a skirt that would work perfectly, and I could overnight ship it, and everything would be fine. Except there is a problem. It costs ninety dollars. I want to get my dad's input on this, but oh, right, I don't have a phone. And when I try to use my room phone it has a seizure and makes this horrible noise at me. And I could use skype, but oh, wait, it's not free anymore. Go buy ten dollars worth of credits. Oh, except that it won't take accept the numbers I give it for the gift card. So I should go check the balance. Except, that website won't let me in either.

I am so frustrated right now.
There are no words descriptive enough for what I'm feeling.

1.28.2007

If looks could kill then my profession would be staring.

The following was taken from an online forum community... and is very funny.

[quote]
Hey, did you notice that we now have a Food & Drink forum? Well, we do. It's a subforum of General Discussion, so you'll have to click GD to get to it. It's a paradise for gluttons and casual eaters alike. Whether you're watching your weight or trying to become the world's fattest man so you can get on TV, Food & Drink is your new internet home. Talk about toast! Learn to cook pheasant under glass! Find new and attractive ways to cram things into your face!*

*Remember, Food & Drink is a forum about cramming edible things into your face. If you're cramming non-edible things into your face, like golf balls or tree bark, please discuss it in another forum, or wait until we create a special "Ways To Avoid Choking While Cramming Things Into Your Face" forum. It might be a long wait.


Oh, and by the way: More new forums are coming soon, so keep your eyes peeled!

Ugh, but don't literally peel your eyes, that's horrible and disgusting. Save it for the "Horrible & Disgusting" forum (unfortunately, we'll probably never have one of those).
[/quote]

And another, more prophetic.
"It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it." -Aristotle
Courtesy of my friend and sister, Yvette.

1.27.2007

Stollen

Funny concept, that word.

When it's spelled with two "l"s its a type of holiday cake. Very popular in my family, popular in most European countries. Pretty good, too. Brings the eater feelings of joy.

But when spelled with only one "l," stolen means something completely different, and a lot less good. It means that one person out of the many in our community saw something they thought they should own, and shouldn't have to pay for. It means this person didn't think about anyone else from our community, lost in the moment of what he needs, and did something selfish.

The world sucks.

My phone is gone.


...that is all.

1.26.2007

Gippa, Gippa, Gippa....

Today the world was rainy. Not torrential rain, but the quiet, peaceful kind. The sound of the rain striking the roof above me, and the leaves on the trees outside and the windows of the building was so beautiful, almost like static on the poorly-tuned radio that is my life. My pillow was soft, and my covers so warm, that I kept drifting back to sleep. When Illona came home, she opened her window just slightly so she could hear it better, then she too hid under her blankets. It was that kind of day.

I went to Latin anyway.

I got up, and put on jeans and fuzzy green socks. I wore both a sweatshirt and a raincoat, just to stay warm, and I tucked the bottoms of my jeans into my rain boots so they wouldn't get wet. Walking through the woods like this, watching my breath hit me in the face, I couldn't shake the feeling that I should be on a horse, guiding sheep. Iceland was definitely with me today.


And that was when I decided that the next time I get a dog, it's going to be named Gippa. It'll preferably be a little white dog, but that's not necessary... but of course, then I started to look for little white dogs, and I found a breed I like the look of, but can't seem to find out what breed it is. It is most definitely some sort of terrier, but all the names I find seem to be more shaggy than this little dog...

It may be some part Cairn Terrier, some part Parson Terrier, and/or West Highland Terrier. As you can see, I have very little idea. Well, this is what it looks like... This dog was also the subject of a series of youtube videos, and this particular one seems to be named "Cookie."










This kind of looks the same....

Except, the one named Cookie seems to have a brown spot on his back right above his tail, and some brown on his tail, and also lining his ears, and this one's just white...
In reality, any puppy would be loved and cared for the same as any other puppy I had. But it really is bugging me now that I can't figure out what breed this is...


Oh, well... It's not like I can get a puppy where I am... Maybe a turtle, though... Or a duck...