If I'm such a misanthrope, then why do I surround myself with the words and images of other people? Wouldn't it be more characteristic to sequester myself in some abandoned cabin in the woods, completely alone with my own thoughts? But I have no desire to do that, nor any inclination to rid myself completely of human interaction. So instead I choose to sequester myself with books and films, interacting with others without really having to, well, interact. Such passive efforts satisfy my desires to connect with people more often than the attempts I make in my actual life. But occasionally I question why I develop affinities for characters in films so easily but have such difficulty finding people I can tolerate in life.
I know part of it is that I've surrounded myself with professionals who care so much about putting up boasting fronts and fixate on propriety rather than naturalness. Like at work, I find it so much easier to joke around with the technicians, who lack the falseness of character that my fellow engineers carry. There's a looming and crippling sadness I feel towards them, maybe because I'm afraid that if I stick around too long I'll end up just the same. I was teamed up with one co-worker for awhile and to make the situation more bearable I'd make these cliche (safe) jokes which I found so dull and really disliked myself for even sputtering out, but would make him laugh, sometimes to the point where he'd even pause after laughing for awhile and then start to chuckle again to himself thinking about it; I'd just sit there getting more depressed because 1) in the ease of his laughter I felt his desire to be entertained by life sincerely unsatisfied, and 2) the censorship of my true sense humor, which would appall more so than it would ever amuse, was a falseness of character in the making.
I know it's the company I surround myself with that makes people as a whole seem so unbearable. But even amid people with similar interests I still sense the same falseness and fronts, except in these cases it's more that they're trying to look cool, name dropping and flaunting pop personalities than just being for being's sake. I wonder how false my own persona comes across, despite my obvious criticalness of such.
I think part of the problem is that all I ever seem to meet are extroverts, as I'm too shy myself to ever approach anyone and as (the friends I have and) the people I seem to connect best with are those that prefer sitting at home or amongst pre-established groups. Still, instead of making any effort to interact outside of the occasional forced situations, I prefer such one-way forms of communication as watching films. I don't want to make it sound like I'm fooling myself too much, thinking that other people are the problem and not myself. The choice is quite conscious and innate.
So where is this perfect solitude that I so crave? From watching films to reading books, even preferring to write in a cafe, as I am now, instead of being inside my own empty apartment, they all demonstrate the same contradiction: they are all passive forms of interaction, expressing my propensity for observation over confrontation. In this regard, film suits me best because I can absorb people and situations openly without any expectation to give back to the source; I can consume endlessly without pressure to share my observations or give anything of myself in exchange. In other words, it's safe: there's no risk of trust and minimal vulnerability. My curiosity with people in real life is the same: I enjoy watching how they act and listening to what they say, with me always trying to influence the situations themselves as little as possible. I like learning about people, dissecting every observation into infinitely little pieces, gaining new and unique perspectives on life and learning all sorts of new and wondrous things about myself. I am just as interested in why people choose a particular conversation topic over others as I am in the topics themselves, but if I ask questions or talk too much myself then that steers the conversation and I lose such observations. Of course these slightly more interactive scenarios leave me more vulnerable, but trust is minimized. Perhaps this attitude towards life spawns from my underlying desire to not exist, ghostly almost.
My interests have always been in dissecting the problem, never in determining a solution. Perhaps my failing to see the problem in this way of living is the problem itself. Perhaps not.
I even treat my more personal relationships with other people in a similar fashion, only sharing what's asked of me and rarely anything more. I let people be who they are, indifferent to how the relationship will affect me, so long as my curiosity is entertained. Sometimes this method yields dangerous consequences as it offers me the passive opportunity to exploit my more self-deprecating urges. Maybe I succumb to such circumstances in the hopes that surviving them will toughen me, though I've yet to see that as the outcome. Most obviously this can be seen in my relationship with my father though lately my curiosity in this regard has wained. Well perhaps it hasn't wained so much as I've just finally cracked. Either way, I have other sources. Recently I started communicating again with two people who mistreated me to varying degrees years and years ago. Just as before, I seem to be playing myself right into their hands just to see how far they'll go. I do this all the time and can't seem to resist my own wonderment. I cling to films and books for interaction because I know that otherwise I am drawn to such social self-destruction.
Passive interests, passive life, I can't seem to wake myself up.
I know part of it is that I've surrounded myself with professionals who care so much about putting up boasting fronts and fixate on propriety rather than naturalness. Like at work, I find it so much easier to joke around with the technicians, who lack the falseness of character that my fellow engineers carry. There's a looming and crippling sadness I feel towards them, maybe because I'm afraid that if I stick around too long I'll end up just the same. I was teamed up with one co-worker for awhile and to make the situation more bearable I'd make these cliche (safe) jokes which I found so dull and really disliked myself for even sputtering out, but would make him laugh, sometimes to the point where he'd even pause after laughing for awhile and then start to chuckle again to himself thinking about it; I'd just sit there getting more depressed because 1) in the ease of his laughter I felt his desire to be entertained by life sincerely unsatisfied, and 2) the censorship of my true sense humor, which would appall more so than it would ever amuse, was a falseness of character in the making.
I know it's the company I surround myself with that makes people as a whole seem so unbearable. But even amid people with similar interests I still sense the same falseness and fronts, except in these cases it's more that they're trying to look cool, name dropping and flaunting pop personalities than just being for being's sake. I wonder how false my own persona comes across, despite my obvious criticalness of such.
I think part of the problem is that all I ever seem to meet are extroverts, as I'm too shy myself to ever approach anyone and as (the friends I have and) the people I seem to connect best with are those that prefer sitting at home or amongst pre-established groups. Still, instead of making any effort to interact outside of the occasional forced situations, I prefer such one-way forms of communication as watching films. I don't want to make it sound like I'm fooling myself too much, thinking that other people are the problem and not myself. The choice is quite conscious and innate.
So where is this perfect solitude that I so crave? From watching films to reading books, even preferring to write in a cafe, as I am now, instead of being inside my own empty apartment, they all demonstrate the same contradiction: they are all passive forms of interaction, expressing my propensity for observation over confrontation. In this regard, film suits me best because I can absorb people and situations openly without any expectation to give back to the source; I can consume endlessly without pressure to share my observations or give anything of myself in exchange. In other words, it's safe: there's no risk of trust and minimal vulnerability. My curiosity with people in real life is the same: I enjoy watching how they act and listening to what they say, with me always trying to influence the situations themselves as little as possible. I like learning about people, dissecting every observation into infinitely little pieces, gaining new and unique perspectives on life and learning all sorts of new and wondrous things about myself. I am just as interested in why people choose a particular conversation topic over others as I am in the topics themselves, but if I ask questions or talk too much myself then that steers the conversation and I lose such observations. Of course these slightly more interactive scenarios leave me more vulnerable, but trust is minimized. Perhaps this attitude towards life spawns from my underlying desire to not exist, ghostly almost.
My interests have always been in dissecting the problem, never in determining a solution. Perhaps my failing to see the problem in this way of living is the problem itself. Perhaps not.
I even treat my more personal relationships with other people in a similar fashion, only sharing what's asked of me and rarely anything more. I let people be who they are, indifferent to how the relationship will affect me, so long as my curiosity is entertained. Sometimes this method yields dangerous consequences as it offers me the passive opportunity to exploit my more self-deprecating urges. Maybe I succumb to such circumstances in the hopes that surviving them will toughen me, though I've yet to see that as the outcome. Most obviously this can be seen in my relationship with my father though lately my curiosity in this regard has wained. Well perhaps it hasn't wained so much as I've just finally cracked. Either way, I have other sources. Recently I started communicating again with two people who mistreated me to varying degrees years and years ago. Just as before, I seem to be playing myself right into their hands just to see how far they'll go. I do this all the time and can't seem to resist my own wonderment. I cling to films and books for interaction because I know that otherwise I am drawn to such social self-destruction.
Passive interests, passive life, I can't seem to wake myself up.
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