And it works and it doesn't...

There's probably some theory, perhaps a psychoanalytic one, which posits that everything we do is purely narcissistic and driven by our desire for _________ (blank[ets]?).

So I'm hanging out with this insecurely attached cat. He wants to play, which he demonstrates by walking over to me and meowing, or occasionally batting random objects (myself included). However, when I start playing with him he is interested for a very short period of time - a couple of minutes at most. It appears that he's not so much interested in my actively attending to him, so much as he doesn't want me to attend to anything else. When I was trying to sleep he would come and sit next to me, sometimes nibbling at my fingertips. He would walk on top of me with an occasional meow to make sure I was registering his presence. He would let me pet him for a few strokes of his shiny coat (shout out to "Lovage" and their clever lyrics), and then either bite me or move away just out of my reach.

I am entirely willing to admit that I'm projecting, but it seems like he wants attention/affection but does not know how to deal with it. He does not seem to be a cat at peace, and as such I relate to him immensely. I don't entirely know why I'm not at peace, though. Of course, I have my novel hypotheses, emerging theories, and established laws (notably Murphy's law).

When I have my sane/functional face on, I am a busy productive member of society. Why? I guess because I care about stuff. That statement is more true than not. I desperately want life to have meaning and the world to be a good place (as good as possible, however terrible that may be). I've learned that I can tell people about my research, my "activism", my this and that and it can sound pretty impressive. But anything can sound impressive, especially to someone who is not familiar with the context. My undergrads thought they were impressive for finishing a paper on time. And relative to some of their classmates, I suppose they are. Okay, this is getting a bit rambly, but I guess my point is there is a way to paint me (and virtually anyone) as an earnest decent human being who has a set of interests and is just trying to do his best with his lot in life. And to a large extent that's true. But extend that further and it's painfully obvious that I am dangerously over-extended.

There's a poem by Igor Talkov called something like "And now we've quieted down":


А теперь мы с тобой притихли,
Истощили нервный запас,
К неудачам давно привыкли,
А удачи пугают нас.


Pardon my half-assed translation. I've only had experience translating official documents (formal language, not poetry):

And now we've quieted down
Used up our mental/emotional (the root in russian is actually "nerve") reserves
We got used to misfortunes long ago
But good fortune frightens us

The poem is about metamorphosis, and I don't imagine he intended it in the way I choose to apply it, but I often think of these words when I meet some goal.  There's that immediate slightly euphoric feeling (dopamine influx or God's love for not being a total fuck-up or whatever), but then I just feel exhausted.  It's very much a "now what?" feeling.  I put so much energy into this thing that is now done (often successfully enough), and now what? It's over. Pat on the back. You're gonna go far, kid. Next?

I feel hollow afterwards, so yes, next (next task, next project, next person, next whatever).  No, this isn't a metaphor for sex.  Although this does make me think of an unnecessary analogy of post-partum depression.  Women (and other people with sensibilities) everywhere please pardon this comparison (yes, I know my work is not comparable in scope to childbirth) - but in some ways it does feel like spending all this time with an idea/person/organization/community kind of fills you up, it gives you purpose, you're eating and living for two (or three, or five thousand) and you go through the exciting and excruciating labor to see the product of your loving efforts.  The baby comes out, you feel amazing at first, but then you realize it's not like it used to be.  You knew the baby had to come out, and that was the whole point of conceiving (the baby, idea, project, relationship, etc) in the first place, but now your uterus is empty and that doesn't feel right anymore. (Now I really need to stop with this analogy lest I reveal my ignorance of female anatomy. Hell, I don't even know that much about male anatomy, aside from what I've seen in the mirror).

SO YES.  NEXT.  I pick up the next project. I get embarazado-ed with another pregunta.  Then after a bit one metaphorical fetus isn't enough, I take on more tasks.  All of a sudden I'm responsible for this, and that, and him, and her, and them, and it, and the surrounding world.  Because how can my idea-babies prosper in a shitty world?  And I try to be the change I want to see in the world (though I'm not a sure what kind of positive change a world of angsty emo bloggers with narcissistic tendencies will bring).

As my freshman year RA noted upon finishing her problem set: "I think I understand why people become math major.  It's like a high each time you finish a problem.  And then you're just done, and you can move on to the next"  (I'm paraphrasing of course).

What of it? I think that may be what I do - what many of us do.  We solve problems, and then we find more problems to solve.  And more. And then some more after that. And if we can't find them, we're creative enough to make up our own.

And it works and it doesn't.  It keeps me busy, and often it keeps me feeling like I'm doing something I'm supposed to be doing.  As Quinn Norton mentioned in her "Eulogy for #Occupy", we just desperately want something to matter, so when I'm in the midst of something it feels like it really matters. I stop sleeping, eating, brushing my hair, because that task is the most important one right now. At that moment it matters. And then, of course, comes the end.  It's almost not important whether the goal was achieved or not. It's over.  And what was defining my life at the moment is in the past and I need to have a new goal.  And sometimes I can do that, and other times, as per Talkov's poem, I completely exhaust my mental, emotional, spiritual, give-any-kind-of-fuck reserves. That's when I write something like this, I suppose (by the way, this was not at all what I was planning to write when I opened up the computer an hour ago at 6am when I couldn't sleep).  Before writing this I tried to do a lovingkindness meditation, to wish peace and happiness to myself, my loved ones, my not-so-loved ones, and to the world at large.  I couldn't.  The meditation starts with imagining something that evokes unconditional feelings of kindness and nothing I could think of stirred that in me.  I was tapped out.  I felt like a horrible person about it, but that didn't help.  And it's not about a lack of love. I love most of my friends and family more than anything (certainly more than myself), but at the moment I don't feel that I have any kindness left in me.  Sometimes I wonder how renewable of a resource it is, because it seems every year I get more and more jaded (often a consequence of getting more and more screwed), and I think one of these days my kindness might never be replenished.  And in some way that sounds sad, but I also see the "about fucking time! why did it take so long to learn the lesson that the world is a terrible place and it's time to give up and die?" aspect of it.

Which reminds me what I was going to write about... love. I saw a sappy thing about a rockstar teacher who not only has a great relationship with his students but also has a developmentally disabled son and it's so beautiful that he loves him so much.  I don't want to be a cynical jerk about this teacher, he does seem like a great guy. But the way it was written and the comments did make me cynical because it was just another superficial tear-jerker piece (but at least it wasn't as offensive as daytime TV - see "Kathie Lee Gifford Makes Autistic Kid Cry on TV" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1MwuJy07lQY ).  Which brings me to my question - is there such a thing as love? (And if so, why has no one ever loved me?)

The way everyone talks about love, it seems very self-centered almost to the point of excluding the love interest.  Love has often been described as an addiction (obsessive thoughts, similar brain activation in people who are infatuated with someone and people who are "in love" with cocaine). The people who love me most, I presume, are my parents.  But who I am is beside the point to them.  They love me as their offspring.  They love what I remind them of.  They love that I have some of their features.  They love that I've done things they've failed to do themselves.  They love that they can feel prideful in respect to me. So do they love me? When I hear people talking about romantic love, and the one or two times I may (or may not?) have been in one, it's almost literally insane. It's not about compassion and understanding and connection and authenticity and support and whatever. It's about control, it's obsessive, it's highly emotional, it's often unstable, it's like a poorly maintained roller-coaster loaded with alcohol, tobacco and firearms (and maybe drugs, sex and rock'n'roll... y tu mama tambien).

In other words, it's actually not such a respectable thing.  I don't entirely disagree that love makes the world go round, but I'm not convinced that's any better than lust, pride, greed or whatever the other deadly sins may be appropriate.

...And the cat with attachment issues continues to beg for attention and then run away from it (his claws and teeth say no, but his eyes say "love me, need me, attend to me at all times")

Time after time

Sigh?

Maybe.

It's Christmas Eve and I'm sitting alone in a lovely apartment (I'm not just sitting actually, I'm catsitting, and I suppose in that sense I'm not alone). The Christmas tree is lit, the cat is fed, the booze is on the table. I'm ready for another Christmas eve of eating avocados and cereal for dinner (sequentially, not together). But then my parents call on Skype and ask me about my plans and offer to eat dinner together over skype so I don't feel lonely. That makes me feel lonely for the first time today. I walk around this ornately put together apartment (in a thoughtful, not gaudy, way) and that question comes up again "what am I doing with my life?"

Then Cyndi Lauper with her "Time after Time" comes on right after "Pain" by Jimmy Eat World, which felt very much like a blog-moment. So here we are. Also, I'd like to note, it was followed by Offpspring's "You're gonna go far, kid" (as I started writing this).

Ugh, life.

"Watching through windows and wondering if I'm okay" is much more poetic-seeming in Brooklyn than in Stony Brook, so I'll get back to it.

P.S. I'm still trying to decide on a vice/addiction. Jimmy Eat World recommends pills. Offpspring seems to suggest lying/sociopathy. I need something quick, because I've already built up a tolerance to watching through windows with melancholy.

Famished for shit

"Run your note by a friend first. Read it to them over the phone, get feedback. Give them a chance to suggest revisions. The best suicide notes I've read were created by inviting all of the friends over and reading it to them as a group.

If you don't have friends or at least any with writing talent, you can call a Suicide Hotline at 1-800-784-2433 and read it to them. They deal with dozens of suicides every day and they know a good note when they hear one. They'll shoot you straight."
http://www.cracked.com/article_15658_the-ten-minute-suicide-guide.html

The following was a draft saved from a couple of years ago (it had relevant images then). Funny how things change and then change back:

I don't think I am myself any more. Well, that's a logically faulty statement, huh? Self-contradicting or something. I suppose I mean that I do not think I am who I used to think I was. I feel that I am changing. I suppose any amateur scientist could tell you that no one is the same person at any point (can't walk into the same river twice, says Pocahontas) but I believe I am undergoing some sort of a rapid transformation. Perhaps I may refer to it as a metamorphosis. Perhaps I already did... twice.
[Image]
Coincidentally, I am not becoming a bug. I am remaining human. In fact, if my imaginary calculations are correct, I am becoming more human than ever. This tremendous accomplishment is brought to you by no longer giving a shit about people's feelings. At least not as much. I am no longer trying to be a really good person. Being a good person not only sucks, it rarely benefits anyone. All the time I spend trying to be selfless I am only making things worse. Enough. People are meant to be selfish. It is nature and I must embrace it, like monkeys embrace poo flinging (remember Gunther and how he was much happier as a monkey of moderate intelligence?). These may be the characteristics of my metamorphosis. To be clear, I am not claiming to have been selfless - only that I tried (and indeed aspired) to be a decent person with other people's needs in mind. I think what Kellie suggested was right - it's much more effective if everyone worries about their own needs and happiness. Don't be an asshole, but don't try to be a martyr either -it's fatalistic.
So, revealing the new me. And just to show that I am not completely self-absorbed, I will offer you an apple.[Image]
Eat it![Image]
Ahahahahahahahahah[Image]
All your Base are Belong to US!

To you

I hoped that we could be friends forever
What a silly, naive and unme thing to think
I usually would avoid such an endeavor
But something about you tickled me pink

These things happen and life goes on
I wish it wouldn't, I wish it was done
But it does and it will, there's nowhere to run
Sleep now so you can start anew with the rising sun.

I'm reinventing myself... again

Yes I cared for you in the beginning
But it's simply not the case anymore
Now that you've hurt my last feeling
I see through your shit like never before

Sure I can't quite say that I'm over it
What with this poem being here and all
But don't think that I'm throwing a fit
To get attention or get you to call

I'm merely trying to put thoughts to words
Something each of us should learn to do
If Blobby was here, we'd put them to chords
Nothing like a song to say we're through

End of life planning

End of life planning makes sense when you're old and/or sick, right?  And I think most of you (out of 1.5 or so people reading this) are supporters of palliative care and potentially assisted suicide.   What if we just tire of living? Isn't that as valid a reason as any?

And if so, how do we approach it? Futurama envisioned suicide booths on every corner, but perhaps we can be more tasteful than that.  Maybe our mental health care system would benefit if patients were allowed to discuss these options.  David Foster Wallace may have had a less tragic end.

http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/be-kind-people-will-remember/

Not journalism, just rambling

I found a new blog I like (it was actually presented to me, yay).

 http://realworlddialogue.blogspot.com/

 Excerpt from the latest post:

 "What is Activism?

 (Not journalism, just rambling)

 We have the potential to heal others and heal ourselves. Most healing happens in the simple act of listening. Allowing the other to their right to a hearing and keeping the door open long enough for there to be a happening. The happening I refer to is the healing, the moment in which two people make a commitment to aid each other in the journey of life."

I also still love Thuy's tumblr http://cafephin.tumblr.com/  (...should I have asked for permission to share it? I mean, i t is on the internets, right?

It's so simple sometimes

I'm on RA doody all weekend, which means I'm on call 24 hours a day. This morning someone called because she wanted to return the keys to her room (she moved out) and I explained that she just needed to fill out a form and drop the keys into a box by the door. She retorted that she did not have a pen, so she wanted me to bring her a pen. Yes, I had to get out of bed and go meet this person at the office because she did not have a pen. You might say "it's your job", but I think that's the point where we get too techno/bureau-cratic. It's like the other time someone called me at 3am because he needed to get into the building and left his ID card in his room - by the time I got out of bed, dressed and to his building, he was already inside because people go in and out all the time. Wouldn't it be great if people were more considerate? My sleep wouldn't be so interrupted all the time.

But the point of this post wasn't to complain so much as to reassert that happiness can be pretty simple. After that little thing in the morning I came back and slept and slept and slept. It's almost 6PM now and I'm still in my bed and it's great. Eating in bed, drinking in bed, watching TV and listening to music in bed. Nothing else really matters right now. After having very little bed time for the past month, this is like the best thing ever. And it seems consistent with what we know about the brain - it's responsive to changes. You just have to change shit up and then you can feel good. A day in bed every month or so = bliss. Stock up on chocolate, nutella, raisin bread, tea/coffee and half&half (with condensed milk?).

Maybe tomorrow I will clean my room, and that will be something to feel good about. There are some objects that haven't been moved since I moved in 4 months ago (and I keep tripping over them on a regular basis).

To summarize: Arete - yes, that's the goal in life, right? But aside from that lofty abstractness, we should try to vary our behavior. As Howie mentioned, a good life can be characterized by discriminative stimuli (he said it more eloquently, I'm sure). And as I say now - "be the discriminative stimulus you want to see in the world".

...And don't call for someone to bring you a pen.

The Faymuss Goat

I got some excellent mail recently, one with a long awaited goat. I wanted to share it to inspire you all to send me mail of similar caliber. The idea is sending things inside of things across the country. When I opened the envelope and saw James Joyce I was "hmmurr"-ed at first.

But once I dared to touch the Joycean capsule, it all made sense. It's layered, like an onion cake. When I asked the sender about sharing the letter, she said "yes, make my goat faymuss" and I thought "no, he's my goat now". I present to you the faymuss goat.

I did indeed tape the words of wisdom to my wall. Then again, I tape a lot of things to a lot of other things. Still, please send me more stuff like this. MOAR MAILS! MOAR GOATS! NEVER ENUFF MAIL GOATS! This reminds of Трое из Простоквашино for some reason. Maybe you should all call me Uncle Fyodor. Well, it's almost 7am. Toodles. Send goats.




On a related note, I learned that I rather enjoy being called a splendid creature:

Today was like whoa

It was like a self-contained life thing. I think I went through all the stages. All stages or grieving and all stages of not grieving. In a good way, I think. I also have been trying to give food to people for the past 3 hours and it's been oddly enjoyable, even while challenging. (enjoyable only when I actually get someone to take it and enjoy it).

New Name, New Design, Same Bitter Bullshit

FUCK! SHIT! FUCKSHIT, SHITFUCK. Also, may I point out that the ads on my page are about depression diagnosis and treatment? Good job, google. Too bad the ads themselves are extremely stupid. Anywhom...


Once upon a time, at Reed, I talked to the timeless Dell Rhodes about academia. She's been at it for decades, and as a master of the brain and all things academic (and one of the toughest professors I've ever had the pleasure of being destroyed and rebuilt by) Dell seemed like the right person to ask for advice. And she was, and is, for anything. Jiminy crickets, she's wonderful. Anyways, the story goes like this...

I described that I felt like I had an insecure attachment to academia (google it if you're not a psych person and care), and she laughed and said that was a good way to describe it, because she often felt the same way. This is irrelevant, but making Dell laugh was always the highlight of my day - and I still cherish every compliment she bestowed (this is why it's good to use compliments sparingly - they have more potency then... kind of like sperm?). I wondered how someone so accomplished, so committed and so generally fantastic was having the same issues that I was. But now, 6 years later I'm having the same issue. I missed academia when I was out of it, and now that I'm back in it I want to push it away and go back to work/unemployment/whatever. And I have a sweet gig. It doesn't get much better than running Howie's lab. I don't see how it possibly could as I have nearly complete control over everything, and Howie's undivided experimental attention to boot. But I guess that's what scares me? It's too much pressure? But there is no pressure, so what's the deal? Avoidant-ambivalent behavior, I guess? I wonder how many other people exhibit the insecure-attachment type behavior towards important and ever-present things in their life - like work and people.

____________________________________________
Maybe all I want is to live in a commune in Brooklyn.

The thing is, I don't just have an insecure attachment to academia. It's to everything. Today I saw over 200 undergrad RAs chant at the top of their lungs about being the best, about being a seawolf, about putting the "h" in "hot". And it irked me. It irked me so bad. A couple of other grad students and myself exchanged a few jokes and glances of the "ugh, school spirit, yeah.." variety. And to be fair I do think that whole thing is stupid. But still, I'm the asshole. It's pretty incredible (if real) that these kids can get excited about a fucking guy in a wolf costume ("Wolfie" is our mascot). If I'm really such a nihilist, then getting excited over nothing is the only kind of getting exicted that there is... (i.e., if nothing is important, then everything is equally worthwhile). No, I don't think what they did matters, but it's great that they enjoyed it, right? I don't know why I have to be a bitter hateful jerk about everything (I didn't behave in such a way, of course, everyone is way too fucking nice and friendly for me to be anything but at least mildly pleasant in return). They are the healthy ones. They can enjoy (unless they're faking, which is sort of what I'm constantly asking myself) what they do even when they do the most inane shit. I rarely enjoy anything I do as I do it. Later I look back longingly and think "that would have been fun". I push it away when it's available, and I miss it when it's gone. WHAT. THE. FUCK. It's like I designed a foolproof method to misery.
I mean.. I'm working on it. Mindfulness meditation helped for a bit. I was a different person in May. I was happy and I was happy to see other people happy. Now I see these ridiculously attractive, outgoing, capable, and fucking friendly (makes me feel like an asshole for hatin' on them) undergrads and I'm just like "this is wrong." It's not that I feel inadequate, either. At least I don't think so. I mean, in some way they remind me of high school because of how normal and well groomed they are (I haven't been around that since I started Reed), but they're really nice to me, so it's a pretty clear distinction between them and the assholes from back in the day when the last pieces of a positive self-image were meticulously annihilated.
And I don't really think it's jealousy here either. I don't want to be back in their place, because as they tell me all these things they're gonna do with their life I'm like "right, yeah, I'm glad I'm not at that naive stage anymore". That, and some of them are still visibly insecure/anxious (visible to me, not sure if other people pick up on it) and that just hurts to see (I kind of just want to hug them and say "you're beautiful, now get the fuck over it - low self-esteem is a turn off"). So I guess a part of it might be the standard insecure attachment thing - I'm forced to be around them, and I "rebel" by making myself miserable hating every minute of it. Soon enough I will miss their ridiculously sunny disposition. Ugh, it's so unreasonable how they're straight out of a GAP ad. Maybe I just can't take people being nice to me. It's suspicious.

My view on the following has completely changed with a lot of new information/interactions (actually this update was just interrupted by him for almost 2 hours while he was writing about someone lending a key to a guest (which you're not supposed to do) and being rude about:

Which reminds me of a SUPER nice 19 year old kid from ..Nigeria? Not a fake nice. He actually does all the super nice things you'd expect (and he's super nice about it). It's ridiculous. I like to be the nice one, but he makes me look like the filthiest douchebag you've had the displeasure of douching with. Maybe it's because he's still young and I get more jaded and cynical every year, but it's kind of unbelievable. And today when I asked him how he's always so happy and peaceful (and he thanked me repeatedly for noting that, because that's his goal in life and he just wants to always be appreciative, and happy and nice and whatever), he said it was all about God. I could see that answer coming, and in some way, I even appreciated that he said he would pray for me, because while I'm the cool nihilist who thinks that's all bullshit, he really meant it. He is so fucking thoughtful. And while I expect a lot of people to shed their religious shackles as they become adults, I no longer have any interest in hastening the process. He believes in God, he is happy, he is doing positive things - let's leave it at that. We don't need more people in nihilist limbo.


I don't really know what this was about either. I think I just needed to process. I don't want to feel bitter, but why do I hate all this stuff so much? Is it me? Is it them? Is it me in relation to them? And why does the word inane come to mind so often? Isn't everything inane?

I guess it had to happen sooner or later...

There's a first time for eveything(ish), and for this thing there will probably seconds and thirds. It makes sense that it happened soon after I started drinking alone. And you know, I liked it. Grocery shopping at 7-eleven isn't quite as classy as my preferred Trader Joe's, but at least I can get there on my own - without having to beg for a ride. It's also surprisingly fun. I think that as a result of so few healthy choices, you feel free to go wild - why not? You're fucking grocery shopping at a fucking 7-11, what possible standards could you have? It's quite liberating, really. I don't remember the last time I bought half&half. YUM. I also used their atm and now I have cash. I feel like a free man. The world is my stupid oyster.

Who do you think I am?!

So a long time ago, back when I wasn't a social butterfly/whore/whoretterfly/buttore (don't worry, I can make these jokes about myself because myself and I are really close, we're like family, it's cool, no hurt feelings), I was sitting in my college dorm trying to figure out why no one liked me. Well, not no one, as I felt that I had made some progress over the past semester. Now that I had a car, people would actually invite me places when they needed a ride. It was almost like I had friends. Or at least I was in close proximity to other friendships, and I hoped that it would rub off. Also, facebook had just come out recently, and some people added me as a friend and that was so fucking gratifying, it's ridiculous. I felt like maybe it meant that we were friends, or at least could be(I didn't add anyone because I didn't feel like I had friends - this was back in the day when you would browse within your network, and it was closed to a few select, and oh so elite, colleges). I know, sad. But funny, too.

AAANYYWHOOOOM, I was planning a survey to give to people to get feedback for the purposes of adjusting my behavior to be more likable (well, to be a better person, but the two were sort of equivalent in my mind as I thought people liked virtuosity or some shit like that). I don't really remember what happened with that. I'm pretty sure I never finished writing it up, because people dropped hints that it was really weird. Or maybe something else happened that distracted me from the eternal question "WTF IS WRONG WITH ME?!". So last night while I was pondering wtf was/is wrong with me, and trying to find something to soothe my insomnia, I ran across an old episode of This American Life where some guy actually decided to interview his friends on tape to find out what they thought of him (http://www.thisamericanlife.org/radio-archives/episode/330/my-reputation). It wasn't flattering. Apparently even his Mom isn't fond of him. I liked this quote, because it basically sums up my worst case scenario in terms of friendship:

-"So why are you friends with me?"
-"I don't know, inertia?"

That's how I felt for a while. That no one actually spent time with me because they enjoyed doing so (which I'm sure happened on occasion - and sometimes I spend time with people in an obligatory way myself).

Ok, I'm tired and hungry so I'll get straight to the point. This guy found out everyone thought he was an asshole, but he suggested he doesn't really want to change. In some stupid way I almost admire that. I think it's stupid and selfish, but in an oddly admirable way. It's like "I'm an asshole and I'm okay with that", as if it's a valid identity. I, on the other hand, would be eager to change according to feedback. I think that's how the world should work, sort of.

So lay it on me. 1) Who do you think I am? (what do you think of me?) 2) What should I change? 3) What should I keep?
Be as honest as you can allow yourself, and feel free to be anonymous. That would probably work best.



P.S. Does anyone remember my "newsletter" called Vasiliy's Vacillations? And by anyone, I just mean 1 of you. And I know the answer is yes. =p

I'ma do it

I'ma be happy today. Even if I haven't slept all night. Even if it means sleeping all day.

Self-indulgent birthday post

(As opposed to self-indulgent every other day post)

I'm laughing because I think my uncle just told me I need to study less and sleep around more (or date or something, we spoke in euphemisms and it was slightly uncomfortable). It was kind of whoa. I like it, because it's different from the usual "oh, you're so responsible" or "you're such a hard worker" stuff I hear. I like hearing critique, and though this one was a bit unexpected, it's kind of nice to see it from a different point of view. Maybe he's right. It kind of reminds me of several years ago when my Mom told me I was boring. That should have been an urgent call to action, but instead I just reacted in an extraordinarily dull way ("Mom, why are you being mean?" or something of the sort).

If close elder relatives are telling you to get a life, maybe you need to get a life?

My theory of why

So admitting you have an account on okcupid, let alone that you've met someone on okcupid, is uncomfortable for many people. Some profiles, even, have a very "oh, I don't even know how I have this profile.. it just sort of happened, I'm totally not that type of person. Oh, my friend made me do it, yes, that's it. Not like I want love or sex or company or anything of the sort. Fuck that shit. I'm a robot and don't need anything ever".

I guess it goes back to that pretense thing... it's like we all know we want love, affection, attention (of various kinds), but we don't like to admit it.

The example described here, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3-son3EJTrU , was of the whole "do you want to come up for coffee?" thing. Both know (supposedly) that it's more than just about coffee, but it's safer to use the euphimism. Then if the answer is "no", it's less painful (and easier to reframe as something else).

It's as if when you meet people at bars you're not there to socialize "oh, no, I just really really like drinking, talking to people is just an occasional bonus - but you seem interesting, let's explore this totally effortless agency-less dynamic further." Similarly when you meet people in other aspects of your life, it feels a lot less desperate - you were just going about your life and someone piqued your interest - it's like magic, you didn't have to make it happen. Except, of course, everything you've been doing up to that point is essentially an effort to be desirable and attract a mate (or mates). But you can pretend that isn't so. You've got your friends, you've got your job, you don't need anything else. Going on okcupid is pretty much saying "no, I also want something romantic, or physical, that I don't already have." It's exposing a certain vulnerability, and it can be difficult.

Of course, there are lot of sketchy characters there (but there are also a lot of sketchy characters at bars, at parties, on public transit...).

Oh crap, not sad-drunk-ness! Disconnected by a smile.

I just recently teased someone for being a sad drunk and how that totally defeats the point of drinking! Poo! Poo on a stick that already had poo on it from before!

I guess it's like this stupid balance and I got it wrong this time. A little bit of booze is good (it doesn't really do much except create a relaxed atmosphere), a moderate amount makes me pensive (which may be good under the right circumstances), and then lots and lots if fun and funner. I should have stuck with a little bit. Ugh, life, why you gotta be so hard?

I recently read through this blog again and found it to be somewhat entertaining, a bit enlightening (on my own "progress"), a bit rewarding and a good bit depressing in the "oh, shit, things haven't really changed".

WTF?! That Gotye song just came up on Pandora. It's like the world is conspiring against me. Or like I'm totally narcissistic and think everything is about me =p

"You can be addicted to a certain kind of sadness" - no, Gotye, I hate you and your lyrics, even if they are stupidly catchy. Why not "cut me out"? It's all just tentative bullshit connections, right? Everyone is just somebody that you used to know, unless you never knew them or do currently know them.

I guess that's sort of what I'm still struggling with accepting. The past can inform the present, but not in some perfectly consistent way. It's still past. I don't want to negate the meaningful interactions I've had with other people before (hell, even with myself, occasionally) - but the trap that we (I) often fall into is that we (I) think it will always be this meaningful, right? And it can't be. It doesn't mean it wasn't real before, but the context/contingencies change. "This too shall pass". Right? In which case we have to just be able to let go, and I think I can - not easily - but I can. I get that all experiences are transient, but how do you emphasize some as special? Shouldn't you cling to something? Maybe I'm still way too much of a romantic - depressive cynical misanthropic romantic, but still...

Where was I going with this? To sleep, I think. But I guess I'll say one more thing - I have a post-it note on my door that says "I feel connected now. If I feel different later, that doesn't nullify this moment. Enjoy the moment." Yes, not the most eloquent I've been, but it's on a post-it note and I wrote it in the spur of the moment I was trying to enjoy, so you know, it conveys my point (at least to me). I actually don't have much to say about it, other than that it's actually been a pretty good reminder to myself - but I suppose it's not so relevant right now as I don't feel connected now. I feel completely disconnected, alien, foreign, unamerican and so on and so forth (and it's THE fourth, the fourth of July, damn my apatriotism!). Still, I suppose that post it reminds me that I shouldn't shit on every positive thing, particularly real feelings of connection, that I've experienced before just because it's hard to relate to them now. Stop being bitter. Good goal. I'll start tomorrow.

Something interesting just happened... maybe

I posted a cheeky comment on someone's facebook status that quickly led to some very blunt critique of myself, namely:

"Vas, honestly, I think you're a smart kid and all, but it doesn't make up for your shitty personality."

to

"I know you must be socially retarded in some aspects, but seriously, your comments, they're unnecessary."

to

"Just don't be such a cock to people. You're intelligent, but that doesn't make up for you being a cocky know-it-all with a shit personality."


Which I suppose is true (i.e., intelligence does not make up for a "shit personality"). I've always worried that I was always making some huge faux pax, but generally, for whatever reason, I got good feedback. I'm not quite sure how to react to this. It certainly sounds like a very honest, unfiltered opinion. It also sounds like the person is rather angry, so perhaps not entirely in touch with reality. A mutual friend suggested it might be a joke, but we really don't know each other well enough to joke quite like this... also, it sounds pretty real (and the other things I didn't quote sounded sincere too).

In some perverse way, I'm glad this happened, because it fuels my neurotic but strangely gratifying self-reflection. I'm not glad that this person was so upset or, you know, to be disliked so strongly, but these are interesting things to consider. How many people thought the same and just never said it? And do they have a point? Is there a lesson in here? Maybe it's just my ego, but I feel that this person has an apparent character flaw as well... but does that nullify his observations? My position is that I was joking, and not in a condescending way, definitely not in a way intended to insult (but tease, sure) - clearly I failed at that, but does this mean I really need to be careful with my jokes or is this a weird anomaly type thing that shouldn't affect my behavior?

I guess I'm trying to figure out if this experience should be humbling or haughty-ing...

It's true, when I'm happy, I don't write.

I think about writing, but I'd always rather be doing something else. Like enjoying life. Writing is just not that enjoyable. If the motivation for writing is to connect to others, share your emotions, work that pathos magic, then perhaps it only feels worthwhile when those emotions are lonesome and grave (can you guess that my favorite books tend not to be the happiest?). When you feel good, you don't need to go into detail about how good you feel - you just feel it, right? (Tolstoy said something about this). As annoying as it can be to hear someone complain about all their issues, it might be worse (or at least dull-ish) to hear someone talk about all their positive thoughts and feelings ("it feels like, so good. Life's rad. Do you know that feeling like when you feel like you can do anything? This is better"). Come to think of it, it sounds like many a-drunk conversations I've heard/had.

On second thought, there is a person I know who does a great job conveying happy thoughts and feelings. Her words take you on a journey.. and I wish I could do that.

For what it's worth, here's some good and not so good and great feelings I once wanted to share:

http://sbpress.com/2011/10/democracy-is-not-a-spectator-sport-lessons-and-victories-from-the-occupy-wall-street-protests/