I wanted to send some emails to people this afternoon, but it doesn't look like there's going to be time, since I leave for my conference in 20 minutes or so, and there are some last minute things I need to do. I feel like this is a major trip for some reason, although I'll be back in 48 hours. Maybe because it's coming at such a...crucial?...time for me.
Do you think we overdramatize certain life events in order to make our lives seem a little more important? I think we might. Of course, a life narrative without some ups and downs might not make a very interesting story, or a very interesting life. I always say I don't want to be mundane and my wish has been granted. But maybe it's so important for me not to be mundane that I (unconsciously, consciously?) steer my life in dramatic directions from time to time.
I felt, today, as I was walking near the Spurlock Museum, back home from the ER where I spent the afternoon writing, that I was waking up. That I'd had a sort of veil of illusion over my eyes and now it's been lifted. That I am starting to come to terms with myself. It felt liberating, if a bit scary, since I think I'm going to have to make some big decisions in the next few months about the next year or two of my life and what those years are going to be about.
Probably won't be able to post in Ohio, but I'll be back in a couple of days. I hope you enjoy the break.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
disarray
Exhausted, time for bed, but feeling somewhat peaceful. I have a lot to do tomorrow before leaving for the conference--finishing up a paper, writing two one-page responses for my social philosophy class, oh and I teach, too--but I think I have time. I'm looking forward to the conference (I'm going to try to get the most out of it, and it'll be a much-needed break from life in C-U), but I think I'm looking forward even more to the conference being over, and just getting on with things again. In this past four or five days, I feel like my life stopped, was twisted around, and laid bare. That might seem over the top, and in a week I may know this, but right now, that's what it feels like.
Sometimes you can't reorder unless you fall into disarray.
Sometimes you can't reorder unless you fall into disarray.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
seriously
The review session went fine, was actually sort of fun.
I'm now on the Union patio, writing this, about to walk home. Then I think I'm going to run a few miles, eat some dinner, and then head out to finish up my conference paper. Quite. A. Night.
Have you ever had this experience: you look back on some of your past actions and see them in an entirely different light? It's as if now you see why you really did those things, though you wouldn't have thought that at the time?
Some people walk around with this vapid look--they're smiling, their eyes are even sort of bright, they've got a bounce to their step--but there's something dead about them, too. Like there's no intelligence animating their being. Like you just feel that they couldn't possibly take things that seriously, or even know what about life one would even begin to take seriously.
I'm being too hard on these people, and I'm sort of joking.
It does raise a question for me, though, of how seriously people should take life. I've always thought it's important to have a sense of humor (something I got from my dad), but I do think it's important to take the world seriously, too--to recognize that there are real problems in the world that keep people from living fulfilling lives or even from just surviving at some kind of minimal level. I sense that many (many) people don't take the world seriously in this way, at least not seriously enough to want to do anything about it.
But then again, while I want to do something about it in an abstract, academic, educational sort of way, what service have I done lately?
Right.
I'm now on the Union patio, writing this, about to walk home. Then I think I'm going to run a few miles, eat some dinner, and then head out to finish up my conference paper. Quite. A. Night.
Have you ever had this experience: you look back on some of your past actions and see them in an entirely different light? It's as if now you see why you really did those things, though you wouldn't have thought that at the time?
Some people walk around with this vapid look--they're smiling, their eyes are even sort of bright, they've got a bounce to their step--but there's something dead about them, too. Like there's no intelligence animating their being. Like you just feel that they couldn't possibly take things that seriously, or even know what about life one would even begin to take seriously.
I'm being too hard on these people, and I'm sort of joking.
It does raise a question for me, though, of how seriously people should take life. I've always thought it's important to have a sense of humor (something I got from my dad), but I do think it's important to take the world seriously, too--to recognize that there are real problems in the world that keep people from living fulfilling lives or even from just surviving at some kind of minimal level. I sense that many (many) people don't take the world seriously in this way, at least not seriously enough to want to do anything about it.
But then again, while I want to do something about it in an abstract, academic, educational sort of way, what service have I done lately?
Right.
living towards v. living through
Now at Starbucks, after a morning filled with oil changes and meetings about teacher workshops. Prof. P wants to try to do the first one-day workshop in early Fall 2007, and I wasn't able to tell her that I may not be here then. Here's another thing I have to make a decision about: if funding for this research project goes through, that would take me to Florida and elsewhere, do I really want to pursue it? I have this idea that I should never pass up opportunities, but I wonder if I've spent too much of the past couple of years (past five or more years?) just taking opportunities that fall in my lap and not making my own opportunities based on my interests. I think, with this coming Spring and my fourth year, I have the chance to make some decisions; and this time, I should probably try to figure out what I actually want to do, and then make my decisions about where to be based on that. Does this seem obvious to anyone else?
Today I've got to put together a paper for a conference presentation I give on Friday. It's part of a panel, and I'm responding to the other two papers. Because it's "just a response," I don't feel a whole lot of pressure, but I don't want it to be a joke, even though I have a hard time taking conferences seriously because of my fear that little of actual significance happens there...and by actual significance, I guess I mean that I fear that little happens that significantly alters educational (or other forms of) practice. But maybe that's not what they're for? NETWORKING. Blech.
I had to get a new student ID today. I think I lost mine. I'm sure now that I've dropped $20, I'll find it immediately. They make you take a new picture if you get a new ID, so I did--I look pretty joyful (though I'm not happy with how my hair looks, to be entirely honest with you). I think I'm most vain about my hair--it never looks quite right to me. Talk about something that's of little actual significance.
Did I tell you I almost saw an old man get hit by a car yesterday? I did. I was running down Illinois St., across from the performing arts center, and there was an old man tottering along the sidewalk ahead of me. To his left, maybe 40 feet away, there was a car that was clearly about to reverse. I slowed my run to wait for the car, because I wasn't entirely sure what was going to happen...then the old man paused for some reason, and the car started to reverse rather quickly towards him...I said, watch out, watch out...but I think I whispered it, maybe because I was out of breath, maybe because I was shocked? The car actually bumped the guy slightly, and he turned and looked at the car in silence, clearly frustrated but not deeply angry. The woman who was driving looked out of her window at us with what I think I was annoyance. She didn't seem sorry.
Everything turned out okay, and I kept running.
This guy just walked into Starbucks. He pulled his motorscooter onto the sidewalk, parked in front of the place, and now he's talking to the two girls sitting in front of me, who appear to be studying for some kind of health and fitness program they're in (what do they call this? exercise science? sports medicine?). He looks jovial, like he just coasts through life, you know? I'm sure he has some problems, I'm sure he's not an ignorant idiot--he's a real person after all--but I often wonder how these people do it. How do these people coast through? Now one of the girls has left with the guy and is riding with him on the scooter.
Here's the thing: I think most people who are relatively comfortable (they don't have to worry about basic needs) just live through their days most of the time. They go from one thing to the next, they talk to their friends, they study, they work, they just plow through the days. They only stop to reflect--to really reflect--when something happens that's out of the ordinary. When they get hurt (physically or emotionally), when there's a death in the family, when they've got too much work to do and they just feel overwhelmed; but these moments pass. Maybe they change, maybe they don't; but these are interruptions in the normal flow of things. I need to think more about these people, because I don't know if I entirely understand them. I wonder if it's that they're just living through something, rather than living towards something. Because I think that there are some people who are living towards something, and these are the people who stop to reflect more often, because they're consistently concerned with how well their actions are matching up with what they see themselves as living towards. If you're not living towards anything, then perhaps there's not much of a need to reflect, because it doesn't matter so much what you're doing with your time. But if you are living towards something, then it matters to you quite a bit more.
I sometimes think I'd like to be a person who just lives through. But of course I don't really want to be that kind of person. I want to be one who lives towards, even if it means I occasionally make myself distraught--because could I really be any other way? (But could the living throughers be any other way? Should they be any other way? That's an important question, I think. Should people have to be living towards something? Is everyone living towards something, whether they realize it or not? Should people be able to be explicit about what they're living towards?)
Today I've got to put together a paper for a conference presentation I give on Friday. It's part of a panel, and I'm responding to the other two papers. Because it's "just a response," I don't feel a whole lot of pressure, but I don't want it to be a joke, even though I have a hard time taking conferences seriously because of my fear that little of actual significance happens there...and by actual significance, I guess I mean that I fear that little happens that significantly alters educational (or other forms of) practice. But maybe that's not what they're for? NETWORKING. Blech.
I had to get a new student ID today. I think I lost mine. I'm sure now that I've dropped $20, I'll find it immediately. They make you take a new picture if you get a new ID, so I did--I look pretty joyful (though I'm not happy with how my hair looks, to be entirely honest with you). I think I'm most vain about my hair--it never looks quite right to me. Talk about something that's of little actual significance.
Did I tell you I almost saw an old man get hit by a car yesterday? I did. I was running down Illinois St., across from the performing arts center, and there was an old man tottering along the sidewalk ahead of me. To his left, maybe 40 feet away, there was a car that was clearly about to reverse. I slowed my run to wait for the car, because I wasn't entirely sure what was going to happen...then the old man paused for some reason, and the car started to reverse rather quickly towards him...I said, watch out, watch out...but I think I whispered it, maybe because I was out of breath, maybe because I was shocked? The car actually bumped the guy slightly, and he turned and looked at the car in silence, clearly frustrated but not deeply angry. The woman who was driving looked out of her window at us with what I think I was annoyance. She didn't seem sorry.
Everything turned out okay, and I kept running.
This guy just walked into Starbucks. He pulled his motorscooter onto the sidewalk, parked in front of the place, and now he's talking to the two girls sitting in front of me, who appear to be studying for some kind of health and fitness program they're in (what do they call this? exercise science? sports medicine?). He looks jovial, like he just coasts through life, you know? I'm sure he has some problems, I'm sure he's not an ignorant idiot--he's a real person after all--but I often wonder how these people do it. How do these people coast through? Now one of the girls has left with the guy and is riding with him on the scooter.
Here's the thing: I think most people who are relatively comfortable (they don't have to worry about basic needs) just live through their days most of the time. They go from one thing to the next, they talk to their friends, they study, they work, they just plow through the days. They only stop to reflect--to really reflect--when something happens that's out of the ordinary. When they get hurt (physically or emotionally), when there's a death in the family, when they've got too much work to do and they just feel overwhelmed; but these moments pass. Maybe they change, maybe they don't; but these are interruptions in the normal flow of things. I need to think more about these people, because I don't know if I entirely understand them. I wonder if it's that they're just living through something, rather than living towards something. Because I think that there are some people who are living towards something, and these are the people who stop to reflect more often, because they're consistently concerned with how well their actions are matching up with what they see themselves as living towards. If you're not living towards anything, then perhaps there's not much of a need to reflect, because it doesn't matter so much what you're doing with your time. But if you are living towards something, then it matters to you quite a bit more.
I sometimes think I'd like to be a person who just lives through. But of course I don't really want to be that kind of person. I want to be one who lives towards, even if it means I occasionally make myself distraught--because could I really be any other way? (But could the living throughers be any other way? Should they be any other way? That's an important question, I think. Should people have to be living towards something? Is everyone living towards something, whether they realize it or not? Should people be able to be explicit about what they're living towards?)
shift
Bedtime on Monday. It's been another long day, but much better than the last. I saw the Strangers with Candy movie tonight, which was funny in spurts--it seemed like a collection of skits (or episodic scenes) strung together with a convoluted plot. Some of the scenes worked and some did not. It wasn't very satisfying as a movie, but it wasn't necessarily unsatisfying in terms of humor. Let's face it: they should've just kept on making the show.
After that, I went to the Blind Pig, which is a bar in downtown Champaign, and worked until around 12:30. I had planned to go to a coffeeshop across the street from there, but it was full (as it often is at night), so on a whim I went into the bar. When I walked in, I saw the other world religions TA (there are two of us this semester), and he actually bought me a beer, which I thought was the nicest thing in the world. So then I sat at a table, turned on my laptop and iChat (so I could chat with some friends and check emails--this bar has wifi!), and then graded quizzes as the bar crowd waxed and waned in size, and as the smoke curled around me. The smoke is irritating me now, since it's been two weeks really since I last smoked (I had two cigs the other night but that was it!). The Pig wasn't the best study environment, but I got a lot done, and it was a nice change of pace.
Now I'm in bed and I'm feeling pretty good about everything. I still feel a bit of that stomach pit, and I know it'll come and go tomorrow, but I'm hoping it'll clear up by the weekend, after my philosophy of ed conference. I hope to come back to town Saturday night refreshed and ready to restart in certain ways. I think I know the kinds of things I need to do to feel more fulfilled, or fulfilled enough where small triggers won't send me reeling, but it's going to take some changes, I think. I need to experiment with those changes in order to find out what exactly needs to be different, but some things need to shift, and I need to have the strength to shift them.
After that, I went to the Blind Pig, which is a bar in downtown Champaign, and worked until around 12:30. I had planned to go to a coffeeshop across the street from there, but it was full (as it often is at night), so on a whim I went into the bar. When I walked in, I saw the other world religions TA (there are two of us this semester), and he actually bought me a beer, which I thought was the nicest thing in the world. So then I sat at a table, turned on my laptop and iChat (so I could chat with some friends and check emails--this bar has wifi!), and then graded quizzes as the bar crowd waxed and waned in size, and as the smoke curled around me. The smoke is irritating me now, since it's been two weeks really since I last smoked (I had two cigs the other night but that was it!). The Pig wasn't the best study environment, but I got a lot done, and it was a nice change of pace.
Now I'm in bed and I'm feeling pretty good about everything. I still feel a bit of that stomach pit, and I know it'll come and go tomorrow, but I'm hoping it'll clear up by the weekend, after my philosophy of ed conference. I hope to come back to town Saturday night refreshed and ready to restart in certain ways. I think I know the kinds of things I need to do to feel more fulfilled, or fulfilled enough where small triggers won't send me reeling, but it's going to take some changes, I think. I need to experiment with those changes in order to find out what exactly needs to be different, but some things need to shift, and I need to have the strength to shift them.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
reflective action
Feeling better, but not totally there yet. I suppose this is always a process, isn't it? At least I'm at the point where I know things are going to get better.
A friend and I were talking tonight briefly about the problem of over-reflection, over-analysis--sometimes you just have to act or believe or take a leap. I think this is true, though I think there can be a danger in action/belief without reflection, too. I imagine it's best to have some kind of balance, where there's always an interplay between reflection and action, where you're essentially always doing both. Reflective action and active reflection.
The danger of keeping a blog like this is that it might keep me in my own head a bit too much, which can sometimes lead to a disconnection from the people and things around me.
There is, right now, a sort of film of bittersweet covering my life, the kind of feeling you get when you know something is ending but something else is beginning--you're wistful for the past while being excited for the possibilities that lie ahead.
A friend and I were talking tonight briefly about the problem of over-reflection, over-analysis--sometimes you just have to act or believe or take a leap. I think this is true, though I think there can be a danger in action/belief without reflection, too. I imagine it's best to have some kind of balance, where there's always an interplay between reflection and action, where you're essentially always doing both. Reflective action and active reflection.
The danger of keeping a blog like this is that it might keep me in my own head a bit too much, which can sometimes lead to a disconnection from the people and things around me.
There is, right now, a sort of film of bittersweet covering my life, the kind of feeling you get when you know something is ending but something else is beginning--you're wistful for the past while being excited for the possibilities that lie ahead.
re-organizing
I got done with my midterm about an hour ago and I think I did just fine. I suppose you never know until you get the grade, of course, but I feel pretty happy with it. I felt like I had something interesting to say in response to each question, and I felt like I knew just what I was talking about. I am "getting" this material in a way that I haven't felt in some time, probably since I was studying cognitive psychology and neuropsychology at CMU. I think it might mean something bigger for my life, but I'll have to wait it out for a few days, weeks, maybe months, to know for sure.
It is making me reconsider my tentative decision to study at Harvard next semester. I certainly don't think it would harm me in any way to study there, but I'm wondering now if it's really the best place for me. I'm feeling that I need to be honest with myself about a lot of things, including what I really want to study.
I had a long conversation with my mom today after my midterm--40 minutes--and I was talking to her about what I'm becoming interested in now. I think I've known for a little while what kinds of things I should be pursuing, but I have not really thrown myself into those things, which I think is part of the reason why relatively minor events can trigger this sort of deep sadness (this sense of off-kilterness, of being thrown off, of having the rug pulled out from under me) that I felt these past 24 hours; and still feel now to some extent, though it's not nearly as bad: more a pit in the stomach than a loss of all meaning.
So how did I explain things to my mom? I told her that I have come to realize in these past few months (it has just sort of hit me) that my major concern throughout my studies has been the question of how people come to live lives that they find meaningful. I studied cognitive psychology because (in part) there obviously must be cognitive processes involved in how people construct their meanings; I studied religion because the religions are clearly the major ways that people have found meaning throughout history (and today, I think); and I'm studying education because of the chance it offers to work with students on developing philosophies of life (in a variety of ways). In seeing this common theme emerge from my work, I've come to believe that what I really truly want to work on is meaning-making in public education. I think world religions education can be part of this process (I think students should learn about both religious and non-religious ways of looking at the world), but I think the overall process that I'm interested in is how education can serve the human drive (and I'd say it's a universal human drive that everyone fulfills differently, based on biology, culture, environment) to be fulfilled, to feel their selves come alive, finding harmony and exuberance in performing certain actions/occupations/activities. Too often, I think that education (especially American public education) does not allow children to explore a range of possibilities of fulfillment--I think that to find the things that make us come alive we need to try a lot of different things, see what works, so to speak. I think education could greatly foster this process, giving us access to avenues of possibility that we will not be exposed to in our 'everyday' lives; but I think that too often it does not. On the contrary, it seems to foster an ignorance of fulfillment, emphasizing instead the need to learn skills so students can find jobs to make money, whether those skills/jobs are fulfilling in a deep way or not.
This is important, I think, on an individual level (I think people could generally be far more fulfilled than they are), on a social level (I think a society of more fulfilled people could be more just), and on a personal level (studying these issues makes ME feel fulfilled).
I certainly don't expect that changing the educational system would lead to all people feeling fulfilled every second of every day, and I do recognize that a concern with fulfillment is a luxury that comes only after concerns for adequate food, clothing, and shelter have been met; but I do think that many people could be more fulfilled--more deeply happy, more content, more exuberant, more authentic--than they are, and I think that people who are more fulfilled would be more likely to want to live in a society where the basic needs are met (so that more people would have the possibility of being concerned about fulfillment).
And I'm rethinking Harvard because it may not be the best place for me to study these things. I need to make more decisions based on the things that make me feel fulfilled rather than the things that I think should make me feel fulfilled, even though they can't.
It is making me reconsider my tentative decision to study at Harvard next semester. I certainly don't think it would harm me in any way to study there, but I'm wondering now if it's really the best place for me. I'm feeling that I need to be honest with myself about a lot of things, including what I really want to study.
I had a long conversation with my mom today after my midterm--40 minutes--and I was talking to her about what I'm becoming interested in now. I think I've known for a little while what kinds of things I should be pursuing, but I have not really thrown myself into those things, which I think is part of the reason why relatively minor events can trigger this sort of deep sadness (this sense of off-kilterness, of being thrown off, of having the rug pulled out from under me) that I felt these past 24 hours; and still feel now to some extent, though it's not nearly as bad: more a pit in the stomach than a loss of all meaning.
So how did I explain things to my mom? I told her that I have come to realize in these past few months (it has just sort of hit me) that my major concern throughout my studies has been the question of how people come to live lives that they find meaningful. I studied cognitive psychology because (in part) there obviously must be cognitive processes involved in how people construct their meanings; I studied religion because the religions are clearly the major ways that people have found meaning throughout history (and today, I think); and I'm studying education because of the chance it offers to work with students on developing philosophies of life (in a variety of ways). In seeing this common theme emerge from my work, I've come to believe that what I really truly want to work on is meaning-making in public education. I think world religions education can be part of this process (I think students should learn about both religious and non-religious ways of looking at the world), but I think the overall process that I'm interested in is how education can serve the human drive (and I'd say it's a universal human drive that everyone fulfills differently, based on biology, culture, environment) to be fulfilled, to feel their selves come alive, finding harmony and exuberance in performing certain actions/occupations/activities. Too often, I think that education (especially American public education) does not allow children to explore a range of possibilities of fulfillment--I think that to find the things that make us come alive we need to try a lot of different things, see what works, so to speak. I think education could greatly foster this process, giving us access to avenues of possibility that we will not be exposed to in our 'everyday' lives; but I think that too often it does not. On the contrary, it seems to foster an ignorance of fulfillment, emphasizing instead the need to learn skills so students can find jobs to make money, whether those skills/jobs are fulfilling in a deep way or not.
This is important, I think, on an individual level (I think people could generally be far more fulfilled than they are), on a social level (I think a society of more fulfilled people could be more just), and on a personal level (studying these issues makes ME feel fulfilled).
I certainly don't expect that changing the educational system would lead to all people feeling fulfilled every second of every day, and I do recognize that a concern with fulfillment is a luxury that comes only after concerns for adequate food, clothing, and shelter have been met; but I do think that many people could be more fulfilled--more deeply happy, more content, more exuberant, more authentic--than they are, and I think that people who are more fulfilled would be more likely to want to live in a society where the basic needs are met (so that more people would have the possibility of being concerned about fulfillment).
And I'm rethinking Harvard because it may not be the best place for me to study these things. I need to make more decisions based on the things that make me feel fulfilled rather than the things that I think should make me feel fulfilled, even though they can't.
romance
Today has been a long day. I have a midterm tomorrow for a class that I'm really enjoying and I think is changing my life. I'm nervous about forgetting the information I need to know or losing the ability to express myself, especially since I haven't actually sat for an exam in quite some time. I'll let you know how it goes.
Thanks to those who read and commented or read and sent emails (or just read) for the support today. I think my mood is still partly cloudy, but there should be clear skies ahead in the next day or two. I still can't be entirely sure what happened to me this past weekend into today, but today I was definitely as low as I've ever been in recent memory (the last time I remember feeling what I felt today was in April, in San Francisco).
Sometimes I think that my idealism is a double-edged sword. I really do try to find fulfillment in many aspects of life, and I think that this gives my life a richness (for me) that I wouldn't otherwise have. However, because I try to find fulfillment everywhere, this means that I try to find fulfillment in places where it's unobtainable for some reason. I have a history (and those who know me already know this, I think) of doing this in relationships more than anywhere else. I tend not to do it with my friends, perhaps because my ideals for friendship are more in line with what the people that become my friends can give; but in romantic relationships, or in potential romantic relationships, I always expect way too much. I've done this for years, and it's tended to lead to one of two outcomes: (1) I pin romance on a relationship where the romance actually isn't there and I end up deluding myself and feeling hurt, feeling like I've lost something--even if nothing was ever actually there. (2) I enter into a romantic relationship with these enormous expectations and of course the relationship cannot sustain those, partially because I idealize the person who I'm in the relationship with (and the idealization falls apart within a few months) and partially because no relationship could really match what I have in mind.
So, because I want some ideal romantic relationship so badly, I either force romance into friendship situations (which stunts their natural development until such a time as I can just get over it) OR I force romance with people who I really don't know well enough to determine whether we'd actually work in a relationship. I imagine I won't find a working romantic relationship until I'm willing to let the romance develop naturally, perhaps out of a friendship, perhaps out of a dating situation. But my tendency is to force it, to move too fast, and this really can't work, though I've been lucky enough to recover some genuine friendships out of these situations.
What will help me here, I think, is to be sure that I'm directing my energy more fully into my work and into my friendships, which I think will keep the romantic energy more controlled, allowing it to emerge naturally, incrementally, rather than in an intense burst that can't be sustained.
I feel much better now, and normally when I feel better, I don't have as much to write about. But I think this time I'm going to try to continue to write down my thoughts here, in part because I'm interested to hear what you think and in part because I'd like to gain more insight on my thoughts in more contented times as opposed to just the times when I'm upset or doubtful or confused.
Thanks to those who read and commented or read and sent emails (or just read) for the support today. I think my mood is still partly cloudy, but there should be clear skies ahead in the next day or two. I still can't be entirely sure what happened to me this past weekend into today, but today I was definitely as low as I've ever been in recent memory (the last time I remember feeling what I felt today was in April, in San Francisco).
Sometimes I think that my idealism is a double-edged sword. I really do try to find fulfillment in many aspects of life, and I think that this gives my life a richness (for me) that I wouldn't otherwise have. However, because I try to find fulfillment everywhere, this means that I try to find fulfillment in places where it's unobtainable for some reason. I have a history (and those who know me already know this, I think) of doing this in relationships more than anywhere else. I tend not to do it with my friends, perhaps because my ideals for friendship are more in line with what the people that become my friends can give; but in romantic relationships, or in potential romantic relationships, I always expect way too much. I've done this for years, and it's tended to lead to one of two outcomes: (1) I pin romance on a relationship where the romance actually isn't there and I end up deluding myself and feeling hurt, feeling like I've lost something--even if nothing was ever actually there. (2) I enter into a romantic relationship with these enormous expectations and of course the relationship cannot sustain those, partially because I idealize the person who I'm in the relationship with (and the idealization falls apart within a few months) and partially because no relationship could really match what I have in mind.
So, because I want some ideal romantic relationship so badly, I either force romance into friendship situations (which stunts their natural development until such a time as I can just get over it) OR I force romance with people who I really don't know well enough to determine whether we'd actually work in a relationship. I imagine I won't find a working romantic relationship until I'm willing to let the romance develop naturally, perhaps out of a friendship, perhaps out of a dating situation. But my tendency is to force it, to move too fast, and this really can't work, though I've been lucky enough to recover some genuine friendships out of these situations.
What will help me here, I think, is to be sure that I'm directing my energy more fully into my work and into my friendships, which I think will keep the romantic energy more controlled, allowing it to emerge naturally, incrementally, rather than in an intense burst that can't be sustained.
I feel much better now, and normally when I feel better, I don't have as much to write about. But I think this time I'm going to try to continue to write down my thoughts here, in part because I'm interested to hear what you think and in part because I'd like to gain more insight on my thoughts in more contented times as opposed to just the times when I'm upset or doubtful or confused.
Monday, September 25, 2006
Slipping out
I already feel like I'm slipping out of my funk, so hopefully I'll feel much better by tomorrow. I talked to my mom for a while tonight, which helped (who knows me better, after all?), and I decided that this mini-depression is sort of like the migraines I get sometimes. Comes on for no reason that I can discern, and all I can do is wait for them to go away, usually by trying to take my mind off of it, or sleeping. Not fun, but maybe just a fact of my life.
Sorry if I seemed overdramatic and crazy (or maybe sorry if I am overdramatic and crazy sometimes) but I figure you all will understand.
Sorry if I seemed overdramatic and crazy (or maybe sorry if I am overdramatic and crazy sometimes) but I figure you all will understand.
dis-ease
I imagine I will look back at these posts in a few days and wonder how I could have possibly felt this way. But right now, it's hard to shake this dis-ease.
watching the squirrels go round
I just wandered around campus in a haze for ten minutes, feeling like I wanted to cry, and then laid on the grassy knoll outside the education building and actually did it. Not for long, and I feel okay now, but I wish I could understand myself a little better sometimes.
I'm watching three squirrels chase each other through the branches of a tree.
I know the kind of thoughts that lead to me feeling sad, but I do wonder if those thoughts are really the 'problem,' or if there's something else going on. I will try to describe the thoughts the best I can, though I don't know if the description is going to make any sense to you unless you've felt this way before. Also, I don't want to make too big a deal out of these thoughts by describing them like this. I recognize that they are only temporarily, that they will go away--they seem more like an illness than anything else. I just have to wait them out, like one has to wait out a cold or the flu.
The thoughts are these: there are moments--they usually don't last too long, though it varies--where I feel the bottom drop out of everything. Where I cannot think of anything--literally--that is worth anything to me. Nothing seems to matter. My life feels utterly empty. None of my work seems important, and nobody else's work seems important, because I don't really see how any of it will make a difference. All of the things I do for fun seem meaningless, because they seem like frivolous distractions that I use just to keep myself busy and cover up my actual unhappiness. I don't feel like talking to anyone, because I don't think anyone will understand and because I don't know why anyone would want to deal with someone who's so depressed. I think all of these things and then make myself feel guilty and ashamed for feeling like this (because I know I'm just feeling sorry for myself and that I don't actually believe that any of it is true), so I end up just feeling worse. Everything and everyone's lives just seem meaningless, and I feel like there's no way to snap out of it--like I'm caught in this cycle, and I'll never be able to get out of it.
Of course, there are times where I feel just the opposite. Where everything seems to matter, where my life feels incredibly rich, where I'm excited about the things I'm going to be doing for fun, where I feel surrounded by wonderful friends, where life seems so full of promise. And I feel like all of that is going to stick--that I'm not going to feel deeply sad again.
So I go back and forth, is the thing. And when I'm down, I try not to think about it--not to overanalyze it and dwell on it--but I almost can't help it, because it's all I can think about, for some reason. I feel like I need some kind of trick to pull me out of these moods--because I think they're all just moods. There must be some reason I slip into them but then there must be some way that I can slip out. Honestly, it's just frustrating because I feel like I'm better than this--like my life is better than this. I have little reason to feel upset, and so I feel like I should be able to avoid it, for the most part. But perhaps the fact is that sometimes people just get in bad moods, and this happens to everyone, and they'll always end, and you just have to wait. What do you think?
I'm watching three squirrels chase each other through the branches of a tree.
I know the kind of thoughts that lead to me feeling sad, but I do wonder if those thoughts are really the 'problem,' or if there's something else going on. I will try to describe the thoughts the best I can, though I don't know if the description is going to make any sense to you unless you've felt this way before. Also, I don't want to make too big a deal out of these thoughts by describing them like this. I recognize that they are only temporarily, that they will go away--they seem more like an illness than anything else. I just have to wait them out, like one has to wait out a cold or the flu.
The thoughts are these: there are moments--they usually don't last too long, though it varies--where I feel the bottom drop out of everything. Where I cannot think of anything--literally--that is worth anything to me. Nothing seems to matter. My life feels utterly empty. None of my work seems important, and nobody else's work seems important, because I don't really see how any of it will make a difference. All of the things I do for fun seem meaningless, because they seem like frivolous distractions that I use just to keep myself busy and cover up my actual unhappiness. I don't feel like talking to anyone, because I don't think anyone will understand and because I don't know why anyone would want to deal with someone who's so depressed. I think all of these things and then make myself feel guilty and ashamed for feeling like this (because I know I'm just feeling sorry for myself and that I don't actually believe that any of it is true), so I end up just feeling worse. Everything and everyone's lives just seem meaningless, and I feel like there's no way to snap out of it--like I'm caught in this cycle, and I'll never be able to get out of it.
Of course, there are times where I feel just the opposite. Where everything seems to matter, where my life feels incredibly rich, where I'm excited about the things I'm going to be doing for fun, where I feel surrounded by wonderful friends, where life seems so full of promise. And I feel like all of that is going to stick--that I'm not going to feel deeply sad again.
So I go back and forth, is the thing. And when I'm down, I try not to think about it--not to overanalyze it and dwell on it--but I almost can't help it, because it's all I can think about, for some reason. I feel like I need some kind of trick to pull me out of these moods--because I think they're all just moods. There must be some reason I slip into them but then there must be some way that I can slip out. Honestly, it's just frustrating because I feel like I'm better than this--like my life is better than this. I have little reason to feel upset, and so I feel like I should be able to avoid it, for the most part. But perhaps the fact is that sometimes people just get in bad moods, and this happens to everyone, and they'll always end, and you just have to wait. What do you think?
fantasy v. reality
Some people have a way of abstracting their fantasies from everyday life, so that they can lose themselves in a fantasy world that is disconnected from the people and places that they know. This keeps the fantasies safe, in that the reality of life doesn't impinge on their possibilities; and it keeps everyday life safe, in that it isn't held up against the impossible standards that fantasies often set. Fantasies in this case become less of a judgment on one's life, and less of a vision of how one's life would look ideally, and more an escape, a diversion, a game, causing no harm, and with no possibility of realization.
I do not do this. I tie my fantasies to my everyday life. I want my everyday life to rise to the level of my fantasies, which of course can never happen. It is difficult for me to accept that life cannot be entirely fulfilling and moving and passionate all the time. It is difficult for me to accept that life must sometimes be mundane. I do not value the mundane.
What if one could feel fulfilled even in the mundane? In grocery shopping, in paying the bills, in sitting on hold with the phone company? This would mean, I think, being fulfilled just with the process of living. Life alone would be fulfilling, at least on some level. I imagine this would be the most consistent kind of contentment, one where life was always experienced as fulfilling (at some basic level) just because it is life, but where there were peaks of deeper fulfillment that came with the experiencing of certain actions.
This might be a pipe dream. Could I actually find somebody who feels this way? Maybe certain religious figures? But I think their contentment (if experienced in the way I just described) comes from devotion to Something Bigger. It's not contentment just from living itself, but from living towards something that they hold to be ultimate.
I do think that, fundamentally, the deepest fulfillment comes from the feeling that one's life is about something and the experience of spending one's life pursuing that which one feels his life is about. I don't think everyone gets to have this experience, especially if their basic needs are left unmet--food, clothing, shelter, etc. However, if basic needs are met, then questions of fulfillment come up, and I think that these can only be answered by giving people a chance to find something (or some things) that their lives can be about.
I do not do this. I tie my fantasies to my everyday life. I want my everyday life to rise to the level of my fantasies, which of course can never happen. It is difficult for me to accept that life cannot be entirely fulfilling and moving and passionate all the time. It is difficult for me to accept that life must sometimes be mundane. I do not value the mundane.
What if one could feel fulfilled even in the mundane? In grocery shopping, in paying the bills, in sitting on hold with the phone company? This would mean, I think, being fulfilled just with the process of living. Life alone would be fulfilling, at least on some level. I imagine this would be the most consistent kind of contentment, one where life was always experienced as fulfilling (at some basic level) just because it is life, but where there were peaks of deeper fulfillment that came with the experiencing of certain actions.
This might be a pipe dream. Could I actually find somebody who feels this way? Maybe certain religious figures? But I think their contentment (if experienced in the way I just described) comes from devotion to Something Bigger. It's not contentment just from living itself, but from living towards something that they hold to be ultimate.
I do think that, fundamentally, the deepest fulfillment comes from the feeling that one's life is about something and the experience of spending one's life pursuing that which one feels his life is about. I don't think everyone gets to have this experience, especially if their basic needs are left unmet--food, clothing, shelter, etc. However, if basic needs are met, then questions of fulfillment come up, and I think that these can only be answered by giving people a chance to find something (or some things) that their lives can be about.
More to consider.
I should also try to identify the actions that bring an experience of dissociation, that make me feel like I'm not myself, or distant, or isolated from life. These are the sorts of actions I should attempt to avoid, if at all possible. I think sometimes the Internet does this to me--mindlessly checking websites, whether myspace or facebook or blogs, reading them, but not actually retaining anything. There are certain actions that seem pointless, empty, worthless. I should avoid these.
Of course, it's important to remember that not all actions are going to be entirely fulfilling, and that I sometimes might have to take actions that are going to be somewhat deadening. But I would like to be able to identify actions that fall into these two types and organize my life so
that I can tend more towards fulfillment and less towards pointlessness, as difficult as this might be, since it will likely involve cultivating some habits while interrupting others.
First Step
This is the kind of day that makes me miss Florida, that makes me miss contentment. I have so much work to do, but I want to sit here, near the OAR fountain at the corner of Lincoln and Illinois, and self-express. I feel a sort of deep sadness. A sadness where I want to weep from such a depth of being that the sobs feel like they're tearing me apart. Like they're breaking something apart inside of me.
This is a bit much--I recognize that. I think the sadness is more of a mourning, a feeling of loss. Some possibilities have disappeared lately, which is hard for me to deal with; but of course the closing of some possibilities means that others open. It's not as if all good possibilities are ever entirely stifled. There are simply too many options out there--too much unpredictability.
So I can catch myself and put my feelings into perspective and realize that I am being dramatic, maudlin--that things are fine. Because the truth is that nothing is wrong, especially on a day like today--even the weather is nice! But it's almost as if I constantly need to be surrounded by people to feel loved and content, and if I don't have that or if I don't feel that I'm extra-special to somebody, then I start to feel empty.
This is a feeling that rears its head every so often. And it'll go away. What frustrates me is that I don't seem to have any control over it. It comes and goes as it pleases, and I can't figure out what triggers it, or what cures it. Of course, a lot of people feel like this sometimes, but I don't want to accept it. I want to fight it.
Time has passed. I'm in the Espresso Royale in Urbana right now, listening to Dylan's New Morning, chatting online with S., and preparing to study for my midterm tomorrow. My mood is definitely clearing up--it's like the clouds parting. Maybe my mood really does vary with the weather, which seems a bit ridiculous. I should be slightly stronger than that.
I think a big part of the problem is that I get lonely from time to time--I don't feel
passionately enough about anything in particular to feel independently fulfilled, so I look to my friends to provide fulfillment, which they can't all the time in the way that I need. I think I do feel self-enacted (i.e., most alive, fulfilled, most authentically myself) in relationships that are characterized by a certain ease, but this has to be a supplemental source, since I can't have it all the time. It also keeps me looking for people as potential relationship partners, which keeps me from engaging them fully as people, because there's something ulterior going on.
But I know--I know--that when I do find a romantic relationship that could be self-enacting, it will just work, without there having to be any talk or dropped hints. If I have to agonize about it, then it's no good, not as a relationship, anyway. Something is good for what it is, not what it might be (because you never know what it might be, really, since unpredictable human emotions are involved). This is plainly obvious to me, most of the time, but if I stop feeling independently fulfilled for even a little bit, then I start to lean heavily on my relationships, which is ultimately going to be disappointing. It's fine to lean on friends, of course, but not as a sole source of fulfillment. As I said, relationships are supplemental, ideally, for me.
So here's the thing: what is it exactly that I can do that brings an experience of self-enactment? Of fulfillment? What are my centers of self-enactment? I must know at this point in my life; but can I commit myself to them even if there are obstacles in the way? Even if they're not easy?
So how do you find these centers? Well, you look for the actions that have brought a feeling of authenticity, of coming aliveness, in the past.
So where have I felt self-enacted? When? When have I lost myself?
In certain conversations with my dearest friends.
In intimate moments with loved ones.
In a group of people about whom I care about deeply, regardless of what we're doing.
In completing a paper that I feel is well-written and meaningful.
In listening to certain songs, going to certain concerts.
In watching certain movies.
In looking at certain pieces of art.
In moments with nature--sitting at the amphitheatre at the performing arts center, leaning back, feeling the sun and breeze on skin.
In working out my own meaning, in thinking about how to help others work out theirs.
In exploring, traveling, seeing the New.
This is a list I need to add to and revisit from time to time. And I should think about actions that might bring self-enactment, actions that I've yet to engage in.
And maybe I need to ask those who know me. When have they seen me feel most alive? Advice welcome.
This is a bit much--I recognize that. I think the sadness is more of a mourning, a feeling of loss. Some possibilities have disappeared lately, which is hard for me to deal with; but of course the closing of some possibilities means that others open. It's not as if all good possibilities are ever entirely stifled. There are simply too many options out there--too much unpredictability.
So I can catch myself and put my feelings into perspective and realize that I am being dramatic, maudlin--that things are fine. Because the truth is that nothing is wrong, especially on a day like today--even the weather is nice! But it's almost as if I constantly need to be surrounded by people to feel loved and content, and if I don't have that or if I don't feel that I'm extra-special to somebody, then I start to feel empty.
This is a feeling that rears its head every so often. And it'll go away. What frustrates me is that I don't seem to have any control over it. It comes and goes as it pleases, and I can't figure out what triggers it, or what cures it. Of course, a lot of people feel like this sometimes, but I don't want to accept it. I want to fight it.
Time has passed. I'm in the Espresso Royale in Urbana right now, listening to Dylan's New Morning, chatting online with S., and preparing to study for my midterm tomorrow. My mood is definitely clearing up--it's like the clouds parting. Maybe my mood really does vary with the weather, which seems a bit ridiculous. I should be slightly stronger than that.
I think a big part of the problem is that I get lonely from time to time--I don't feel
passionately enough about anything in particular to feel independently fulfilled, so I look to my friends to provide fulfillment, which they can't all the time in the way that I need. I think I do feel self-enacted (i.e., most alive, fulfilled, most authentically myself) in relationships that are characterized by a certain ease, but this has to be a supplemental source, since I can't have it all the time. It also keeps me looking for people as potential relationship partners, which keeps me from engaging them fully as people, because there's something ulterior going on.
But I know--I know--that when I do find a romantic relationship that could be self-enacting, it will just work, without there having to be any talk or dropped hints. If I have to agonize about it, then it's no good, not as a relationship, anyway. Something is good for what it is, not what it might be (because you never know what it might be, really, since unpredictable human emotions are involved). This is plainly obvious to me, most of the time, but if I stop feeling independently fulfilled for even a little bit, then I start to lean heavily on my relationships, which is ultimately going to be disappointing. It's fine to lean on friends, of course, but not as a sole source of fulfillment. As I said, relationships are supplemental, ideally, for me.
So here's the thing: what is it exactly that I can do that brings an experience of self-enactment? Of fulfillment? What are my centers of self-enactment? I must know at this point in my life; but can I commit myself to them even if there are obstacles in the way? Even if they're not easy?
So how do you find these centers? Well, you look for the actions that have brought a feeling of authenticity, of coming aliveness, in the past.
So where have I felt self-enacted? When? When have I lost myself?
In certain conversations with my dearest friends.
In intimate moments with loved ones.
In a group of people about whom I care about deeply, regardless of what we're doing.
In completing a paper that I feel is well-written and meaningful.
In listening to certain songs, going to certain concerts.
In watching certain movies.
In looking at certain pieces of art.
In moments with nature--sitting at the amphitheatre at the performing arts center, leaning back, feeling the sun and breeze on skin.
In working out my own meaning, in thinking about how to help others work out theirs.
In exploring, traveling, seeing the New.
This is a list I need to add to and revisit from time to time. And I should think about actions that might bring self-enactment, actions that I've yet to engage in.
And maybe I need to ask those who know me. When have they seen me feel most alive? Advice welcome.
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