Better to know than to not know, worry, and make matters worse.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
defending my disposition
[a cloaked post revealed]
"Humans are social beings." This is the retort I got to my stubborn, dour outburst. I shy away from interaction whenever I'm in a rut, mainly out of embarrassment but also in self-defense. In such weakened conditions I blurt out all my inner travails, starved for understanding but only receiving pity and skewed pressure. I despise pity and all the wallowing vulnerability it permits; all pity is self-pity. I become defenseless in such instances, unable to resist the obsequious yearning to justify my behavior. But inundated with doubt, the distinction between known faults and perceived abnormalities blurs into a culminating indecision, which yields either paralysis or diversion. The good-intentioned advice I receive only increases my chagrin and leads me further astray. I sequester myself, dealing with my problems privately until I can regain enough composure to be who I am without guilt.
A side note that this leads me to ponder is the absurd perceived abnormality of solitude. In her advice, my friend worries about my "unhealthy" penchant for solitude and the fickleness which I exert when it comes to befriending people. Perhaps I am as overly judgmental as she claims but at the same time, I find nothing wrong with being selective, as I regard my time as precious and my privacy necessary. Again, my defense is weakened by the obviousness of my current misery, but then again, perhaps it is not without warrant as I think my previous plea makes apparent. How so? I tire so easily of constantly trying to justify who I am. Part of this is secrecy mixed with a weariness to perform and part of it is intimidation. I don't find it necessary to reiterate the mundanities of daily life to just anyone: I listen to people tell the same anecdotes over and over to whoever they come across; I listen to the same robotic cliché responses given without thought; I listen to enumerations of the day's completed tasks as if that in itself constitutes conversation; and I listen to know-it-all opinion after opinion on issues that will never be directly acted upon by the interlocutors themselves, as if collocation alone offers any solution but egocentric self-satisfaction. Yes, I'm not unaware of the irony: I hear myself participating in such talk too often, as this type of conversation is passive, unnecessary, and insecure. To this, I prefer silence and solitude.
But my silence in some cases is not spurred by abstinence but rather by intimidation. In these instances I should vocalize; however, such utterances are not desired to be explicit. I merely wish to say enough to be honest and in no way feel it necessary to explain myself beyond the minimum. I was having this discussion with another friend, as he considered it a breech of privacy when a vexing co-worker made the simple inquiry of what he did on that given day. We've discussed further on how promiscuously information is expected to be shared and how we both find it unnecessary to be so forth giving. Somewhat correlated, we also discussed how not already having plans to socialize, doesn't necessarily imply that we're free. Last Friday I was talking to my father on the phone and I found it easier to lie to him and say I had plans to go out with friends than I did to explain that I was choosing to spend the evening alone reading. I remember a few months back when his wife was out of town for a weekend and I had made plans with him to spend a night over at his place. He called me a week in advance to pencil me in so he could book up the rest of his time with lunches and dinners to keep himself occupied with company the entirety of the weekend. When my car ended up breaking down a couple days before and I told him I wouldn't be able to drive up to see him, it became this made rush for him to fill in the time that he had previously reserved for me. I remember talking to him a couple days later and listening to how much he felt he lucked out that one of his friends was free that night to do something, as if a Saturday night to one's self was such a dreadful thing to have.
I don't understand this constant need to fill up time doing things with other people, but yet I can't say that I'm fully exempt from succumbing to it myself. Of course I enjoy companionship and conversation as much as anyone, but I'm not going to spend time with people just for the sake of filling up my time. Even when I do socialize with some friends and family, there's an awkward expectation to be always doing something, as if communicating is only a way to pass the time between actions. Whenever I go home and try to spend the day with my sister she constantly complains about how bored she is and I either end up following her around from one store to the next, shopping, or watching the dreaded E! Channel, when I'd really prefer to just talk upfront with her. Even when I try to go off to my room to do my own thing (and yes, embarrassingly enough I can only tolerate so much E!), she'll barge in at some point and roll around on my bed complaining. I try to talk to her but she just tunes out and whines about how bored she is. I tell her to read a book or something and she says she doesn't have the attention span. I know too many people who bustle around shopping, running errands, organizing, and doing other such busywork all to avoid both serious thought and time alone. I find it is these same people that question the legitimacy of my lifestyle, and although I don't find it necessary to justify or elaborate to them on my choices, I would like to defend those choices enough to not be intimidated into silence and doubt by their expressed judgments.
On a side, side note, I feel a general loss of privacy among people and with it a great loss of solitude, especially with increasing technology. I get disgruntled lectures because I never answer my cell phone because I dislike being so easily reachable and interrupted, yet I carry that cell phone around with me everywhere and check it regularly. I am also prone to such privacy breeches as having myself signed on AIM all day long, posting my private reflections onto a public blog, letting friends see what movies I'm watching on Netflix, and having a MySpace page, so I can't exactly say I'm shunning the loss of privacy either. I am however very selective about which people get to view this private public self as most of these outlets are masked in anonymity. (Yes, I deleted my Facebook account so I'm officially not searchable via the web!)
Amid all this extra communication though, are people gaining any deeper of a connection with one another? Mostly I feel like all the available gadgets are more a waste of time than anything else and I do my best to avoid getting caught up in them. I have friends that can't sit in a car without being on their cell phones, can't be in their houses without the television on in the background, can't travel anywhere without their iPods glued to their ears, and then there's me, addicted to consuming information on the internet instead of going out and gaining knowledge from experience itself. I feel how much technology and fast-paced living increases people's fear of being left alone with their own thoughts. This fear keeps people from thinking for themselves, which makes it easier for the few remaining thinkers to make the decisions for everyone else. We trade in our thoughts for gadgets, privacy for security, individualism for categorization. Will later generations just be empty open books?
Okay, I repeatedly digressed from my original argument (and sub-argument), but I think I made my point, if not a few others.
"Humans are social beings." This is the retort I got to my stubborn, dour outburst. I shy away from interaction whenever I'm in a rut, mainly out of embarrassment but also in self-defense. In such weakened conditions I blurt out all my inner travails, starved for understanding but only receiving pity and skewed pressure. I despise pity and all the wallowing vulnerability it permits; all pity is self-pity. I become defenseless in such instances, unable to resist the obsequious yearning to justify my behavior. But inundated with doubt, the distinction between known faults and perceived abnormalities blurs into a culminating indecision, which yields either paralysis or diversion. The good-intentioned advice I receive only increases my chagrin and leads me further astray. I sequester myself, dealing with my problems privately until I can regain enough composure to be who I am without guilt.
A side note that this leads me to ponder is the absurd perceived abnormality of solitude. In her advice, my friend worries about my "unhealthy" penchant for solitude and the fickleness which I exert when it comes to befriending people. Perhaps I am as overly judgmental as she claims but at the same time, I find nothing wrong with being selective, as I regard my time as precious and my privacy necessary. Again, my defense is weakened by the obviousness of my current misery, but then again, perhaps it is not without warrant as I think my previous plea makes apparent. How so? I tire so easily of constantly trying to justify who I am. Part of this is secrecy mixed with a weariness to perform and part of it is intimidation. I don't find it necessary to reiterate the mundanities of daily life to just anyone: I listen to people tell the same anecdotes over and over to whoever they come across; I listen to the same robotic cliché responses given without thought; I listen to enumerations of the day's completed tasks as if that in itself constitutes conversation; and I listen to know-it-all opinion after opinion on issues that will never be directly acted upon by the interlocutors themselves, as if collocation alone offers any solution but egocentric self-satisfaction. Yes, I'm not unaware of the irony: I hear myself participating in such talk too often, as this type of conversation is passive, unnecessary, and insecure. To this, I prefer silence and solitude.
But my silence in some cases is not spurred by abstinence but rather by intimidation. In these instances I should vocalize; however, such utterances are not desired to be explicit. I merely wish to say enough to be honest and in no way feel it necessary to explain myself beyond the minimum. I was having this discussion with another friend, as he considered it a breech of privacy when a vexing co-worker made the simple inquiry of what he did on that given day. We've discussed further on how promiscuously information is expected to be shared and how we both find it unnecessary to be so forth giving. Somewhat correlated, we also discussed how not already having plans to socialize, doesn't necessarily imply that we're free. Last Friday I was talking to my father on the phone and I found it easier to lie to him and say I had plans to go out with friends than I did to explain that I was choosing to spend the evening alone reading. I remember a few months back when his wife was out of town for a weekend and I had made plans with him to spend a night over at his place. He called me a week in advance to pencil me in so he could book up the rest of his time with lunches and dinners to keep himself occupied with company the entirety of the weekend. When my car ended up breaking down a couple days before and I told him I wouldn't be able to drive up to see him, it became this made rush for him to fill in the time that he had previously reserved for me. I remember talking to him a couple days later and listening to how much he felt he lucked out that one of his friends was free that night to do something, as if a Saturday night to one's self was such a dreadful thing to have.
I don't understand this constant need to fill up time doing things with other people, but yet I can't say that I'm fully exempt from succumbing to it myself. Of course I enjoy companionship and conversation as much as anyone, but I'm not going to spend time with people just for the sake of filling up my time. Even when I do socialize with some friends and family, there's an awkward expectation to be always doing something, as if communicating is only a way to pass the time between actions. Whenever I go home and try to spend the day with my sister she constantly complains about how bored she is and I either end up following her around from one store to the next, shopping, or watching the dreaded E! Channel, when I'd really prefer to just talk upfront with her. Even when I try to go off to my room to do my own thing (and yes, embarrassingly enough I can only tolerate so much E!), she'll barge in at some point and roll around on my bed complaining. I try to talk to her but she just tunes out and whines about how bored she is. I tell her to read a book or something and she says she doesn't have the attention span. I know too many people who bustle around shopping, running errands, organizing, and doing other such busywork all to avoid both serious thought and time alone. I find it is these same people that question the legitimacy of my lifestyle, and although I don't find it necessary to justify or elaborate to them on my choices, I would like to defend those choices enough to not be intimidated into silence and doubt by their expressed judgments.
On a side, side note, I feel a general loss of privacy among people and with it a great loss of solitude, especially with increasing technology. I get disgruntled lectures because I never answer my cell phone because I dislike being so easily reachable and interrupted, yet I carry that cell phone around with me everywhere and check it regularly. I am also prone to such privacy breeches as having myself signed on AIM all day long, posting my private reflections onto a public blog, letting friends see what movies I'm watching on Netflix, and having a MySpace page, so I can't exactly say I'm shunning the loss of privacy either. I am however very selective about which people get to view this private public self as most of these outlets are masked in anonymity. (Yes, I deleted my Facebook account so I'm officially not searchable via the web!)
Amid all this extra communication though, are people gaining any deeper of a connection with one another? Mostly I feel like all the available gadgets are more a waste of time than anything else and I do my best to avoid getting caught up in them. I have friends that can't sit in a car without being on their cell phones, can't be in their houses without the television on in the background, can't travel anywhere without their iPods glued to their ears, and then there's me, addicted to consuming information on the internet instead of going out and gaining knowledge from experience itself. I feel how much technology and fast-paced living increases people's fear of being left alone with their own thoughts. This fear keeps people from thinking for themselves, which makes it easier for the few remaining thinkers to make the decisions for everyone else. We trade in our thoughts for gadgets, privacy for security, individualism for categorization. Will later generations just be empty open books?
Okay, I repeatedly digressed from my original argument (and sub-argument), but I think I made my point, if not a few others.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
gingerly...
I'm reopening this space because I don't know what else to do. I need it I guess. Although the entries will not change as I so alluded during its absence, my attitudes have and those shall be reflected in these new texts. I don't expect my readers to see this as I don't think they saw the reasons I shut it down originally. But then, I'm not writing this to be read.
There were numerous entries posted under cloak but then chosen to be removed before its reappearance. Perhaps those shall be posted one at a time as I see fit, or perhaps not.
I don't know what to expect but I'll give it a whirl.
There were numerous entries posted under cloak but then chosen to be removed before its reappearance. Perhaps those shall be posted one at a time as I see fit, or perhaps not.
I don't know what to expect but I'll give it a whirl.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
the beginning.
I appear to have gotten nowhere. Plagued with hidden demons, my progress has been dilatory. In what brief moments I do spend conscious of the outside world, I awake to a reality that seems to have created itself around me while I sleepwalked through life. “This can’t be real; this is not the life I would have pursued.” But I can’t seem to stay conscious long enough to change it. My anxiety attacks with debilitating force and I withdraw to the inner realm of my own mind. But even in this internalized world, I find little comfort. In fact I can’t make any progress in reality until I can manage a level of prolonged mental stability, but how? I have been stuck in this stage too long, quiescent, but I am finally weary of wallowing. I don’t expect anyone to believe me in this statement, as I have been suspect to it before, but I know it finally to be truth. An obscene devotion to introspection has enabled me to develop a profound level of self-awareness, which I cherish, but it has also been accompanied by a paralyzing level of realization (and anticipatory acceptance) of my own limitations. Too well I can predict my own shortcomings and this secured doubt has continuously inhibited any potential growth. I drag my feet on every important decision struggling to convince myself that I am capable of whatever change I am hoping to achieve, but when I do make these decisions, I make them for keeps: my stubbornness delays but once I achieve the necessary activation energy, as rare as that may be, it motivates me without regret.
Too long I have allowed my stubbornness and shame to impede me. Beneath layer upon layer of doubt, guilt, and depression, I do know my own right from wrong; however, that conscience rarely ever seeps passed those barriers to the surface of my decisions. Being this weak willed, I start at a tremendous disadvantage, but I need to concentrate less on comparisons and more on optimizing my own continuous progress regardless of its relativity. I realize increasingly more that my expectations for immediacy are inherently counterproductive. I cannot achieve this new beginning overnight; this is something I have to work for with both diligence and ease and not withdraw from so readily in frustration.
And what will my first step be? I am learning to ask for help, not passively though but rather through interaction. I need to start utilizing the resources that are available to me as it has become devastatingly clear that I can’t do this on my own. I am not talking about dependency, which has been my general way of wallowing stagnant, but growth. I am asking myself and those around me for communication, criticism, and challenges. I am finally willing to put forth a level of openness of which I have never done before, but I need to be careful that it does not become as exploitative as it was sinking to so recently. I will try to make the best of the relationships I do have, and learn to take up the initiative to seek out new ones that can be mutually beneficial.
I want failure; I want it because I know it’s inevitable and I need to learn how to take it without scarring my esteem and relapsing at its mere possibility - is my vulnerability inherent or can it be unlearned? If it can’t be unlearned then I embrace my own demise; better that than not trying. I have wasted too much time protecting a life that I have never found worth living; I can’t live like this anymore.
What a difference a day makes.
Too long I have allowed my stubbornness and shame to impede me. Beneath layer upon layer of doubt, guilt, and depression, I do know my own right from wrong; however, that conscience rarely ever seeps passed those barriers to the surface of my decisions. Being this weak willed, I start at a tremendous disadvantage, but I need to concentrate less on comparisons and more on optimizing my own continuous progress regardless of its relativity. I realize increasingly more that my expectations for immediacy are inherently counterproductive. I cannot achieve this new beginning overnight; this is something I have to work for with both diligence and ease and not withdraw from so readily in frustration.
And what will my first step be? I am learning to ask for help, not passively though but rather through interaction. I need to start utilizing the resources that are available to me as it has become devastatingly clear that I can’t do this on my own. I am not talking about dependency, which has been my general way of wallowing stagnant, but growth. I am asking myself and those around me for communication, criticism, and challenges. I am finally willing to put forth a level of openness of which I have never done before, but I need to be careful that it does not become as exploitative as it was sinking to so recently. I will try to make the best of the relationships I do have, and learn to take up the initiative to seek out new ones that can be mutually beneficial.
I want failure; I want it because I know it’s inevitable and I need to learn how to take it without scarring my esteem and relapsing at its mere possibility - is my vulnerability inherent or can it be unlearned? If it can’t be unlearned then I embrace my own demise; better that than not trying. I have wasted too much time protecting a life that I have never found worth living; I can’t live like this anymore.
What a difference a day makes.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
the imagination and art
"It is a violence from within that protects us from a violence without. It is the imagination pressing back against the pressure of reality. It seems, in the last analysis, to have something to do with our self-preservation; and that, no doubt, is why the expression of it, the sound of its words, helps us to live our lives." W. Stevens
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