2.27.2008

Living might mean taking chances, but they're worth taking.

(as written on December 13th, 2007)


Of all the years I've ever lived
Yours is the one I'll always miss.

They tell me love is a mistake worth making
But when the clock has run
And the mistakes are made
I haven't learned a thing.


In the two seconds' time

(it takes)
to realize mistakes
(my heart)
I love again
(forever)
and can only hope
(to recover)


Insanity is the same plea for difference.
Am I losing my mind? Or just going crazy?
I love like I've never been hurt.
I have been hurt.
And I've been hurt, and I've been hurt, and I've been hurt.
And yet I still love.

I like to feign inability
To protect myself from future hurt
If you don't know I love you
You won't know you're hurting me
You can't get pleasure from it
And it will bore you.

But I love.
With All My Heart.

I have no regrets.
I'm only sorry you can't say the same.

2.09.2008

Errors in Calculation

So, I went skydiving today... With G and her friends. It was pretty fun. I'm pretty sure it's meant to be more exhilarating than I felt it... I don't feel like I really got everything out of it that I could have. Like, I should have been focusing on how amazing it was that the ground was hurtling toward me at an amazing 180 mph, or that I had just jumped out of a moving airplane 15 thousand feet above the ground, or how beautiful everything around me was, or how far I could see.

But instead, I found myself thinking about how incredibly dry my mouth was, and how I couldn't breathe out of my nose because of speed, and how it felt much like I was drowning, what with the not being able to breathe and all. And I thought about how my shirt was hurting my stomach, and how the harness was hurting my left femoral artery, and where my feet were, and where my hands were. I don't feel like I really saw any of it at all.

I was expecting this huge rush, and some life-perspective-altering feeling of goodness, or euphoria, or something. I think I had it built up in my mind as amazing, but then when it actually happened it wasn't what I expected, and I didn't know how to deal with it.

But people talk about how different the second time really is, and how much more of it you experience than in the first time, so maybe when I go with my sisters I'll be better able to focus. My grip of life has been incredibly off lately. I've felt really disconnected all week, and I really don't like that. It makes me feel like a passenger to my life, and that I have no control, and I really don't like that feeling. I also don't like the way it makes me act like her, and how it can be used as a scapegoat for everything she does, and now a lot of the things I do or think about doing I think about how much they seem like things she would do. I disgust me.



Also, I've realized an enormous error in a calculation of mine: every time I get really close to a friend, that person inevitably moves away from me, or at least get separated from me (whatever the etiology may be). Jess N and Jenn A- moved to Sacremento within half a year of each other. Ben K- went to private high school. Michelle G- went to high school across town. Ann C- goes to school in Boston. Mel M- goes to school in SoCal. (Sadie went SoCal for a while. She's back now, but how long will I have her?) And now Beth's family is moving to Washington, and Kristin is thinking about the east coast as well.

Always before when one would move away I would simply reach out to another, trying desperately to not let myself fall. It's only the closest of friends that have ever moved away from me, and those who are not that close never seem to go anywhere, constantly leaving me with a bunch of people I know, and interact fine with, but not entirely comfortable around. As soon as I try to get closer to them, they move. So it makes sense that I should just stop trying to get close to people. I mean, logically, that's the solution, right?

If executing a certain action results in a failure, then logically the way to avoid that failure is to not utilize that action. I just need to stop getting close to people, and then they won't feel compelled to get away from me.

2.05.2008

I'm Just a Notch in Your Bedpost, But You're Just a Line in a Song.

Today I was stepping into the street, and looked left to find the front of a very familiar truck with a very familiar blue Santa Cruz auto dealer plate staring back at me.

Erin was walking next to me, and we were going to the Baytree to buy scantrons. We had stepped off the curb in a synchronized movement. There were no cars waiting at or approaching the stop sign in front of us, and the truck was still completely across the intersection. I had one of her ear buds in my ear, and we were listening to something, but I don't remember what it was. I didn't hear it.

In that instant of recognition everything around me evaporated, and I was no longer in control. The only thing I was aware of was that truck coming at me, and fast. For the majority of the moment I was convinced she would not slow, but would continue to claim my physical existence as she had claimed my faith in the ability of humans to treat one another with respect, and loyalty, and an unending kindness. Faith in the idea that people can simply get along, no matter their differences, and if they clash, talk it out.


All I saw in that instant was her, behind the wheel.
All I heard was the roar of the engine.
All I felt was the beating of my heart ceasing.


I don't know that she knew it was me, but I can assume she did. I don't know that I know whoever it was that was sitting in the passenger seat, but I can assume I do. I don't know that she saw that I saw her, but I can assume she did. I don't know that she appreciates that I made no move to indicate recognition. I can assume that it makes no difference to her. If I had waved to her (even the polite half-wave pedestrians give motorists for not killing them) I don't think she would have waved back. I think she probably would have assumed that I wanted to pretend I still know her.

It may have hurt her for me not to give her any recognition. She brought that upon herself. It is possibly (however unlikely) that seeing me today jarred something- dare I say it- human in her, and now she's going to consider what she did to me, and attempt an apology and reconciliation. If that were the case, I don't think I'd want to forgive her, but honestly don't think I'd be able to stop myself.

I don't know that I'm thinking about this way more than I should, or that she's not thinking about it at all, or that she never did, or that it didn't affect her in the slightest.

But I can assume as much.



I don't claim to understand how our world works, or why.
But I sure would like to know who decided to put me in front of her car today.
I would like to know who or what made her not hit me.
And I'd like to know who or what is making me wish she had.

1.28.2008

I die without you...

Today was Leadership Training Day in Kappaland, and our whole CC went north to the Pi chapter house for the whole day.

The getting up superearly part was not really my favorite, but I mentioned to keep focused until we started doing some really cool teambuilding activities. In one, Felicity would read two contrasting ways to approach a situation, or contrasting traits, and indicate sides of the yard, and we had to choose sides.

For the most part everyone was equally split on the issues, because most of them were a little trivial, like "I like to keep things tidy," or "it looks like a mess, but I know where everything is."

And then there were other, heavier questions, like "I see my council mates as professional colleagues" vs. "I see them as my close personal friends." For that one on the side of friendship it was myself and Charlotte, and everybody else was on the other side of the fence.

Which was the scariest thing I learned that day: some of the most important issues our chapter council will face, the council will be a united front, and will attack from one direction. Except me. (And sometimes Charlotte.)

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