Another huge change in my life: I stopped drinking. Not entirely, but it isn't something I do habitually every week, compared to before when I would get drunk a few times every week. Getting a little drunk (or moderately drunk, or black-out drunk) still seems something beneficial in the right situation. By that I mean not only social context, but whatever place my mind is at in it's regular cycling of ups and downs. That said, I don't foresee going back to getting drunk on a regular day, at a regular time.
It came as such a surprise that I wouldn't want to drink anymore because I never saw it as something unattractive, or something that I was compelled to do by an urge but didn't deep down want to do. Rightly so, for if I never tried out and got into drinking I am pretty sure that I would have had a weaker mind today, or at least a mind that I understood less.
Unlike most people I only started drinking after I turned 21, certainly wasn't a thrill of life to be able to legally drink or go to bars. The first times I get drunk it is because of how interesting it is to be able to feel what it's like to be drunk. First year or so I get drunk a few times a month, don't remember it as being particularly pleasant or unpleasant, and I liked the best when I had only one or two drinks when I felt more loquacious and more open and after more than a few drinks I felt mainly just stupid.
After getting drunk maybe 10-15 times (something like that) I have a great day the next day, I am awake for a long time, mind feels calm and collected and fluid like it otherwise wouldn't. Very unexpected that no, I was not hungover after drinking, but that my mind actually seemed to work better. Reverse hang-overs was the name I invented for them. Why had I never heard about this in any of the psychology or neuroscience I read (I was a psychology major at the time, or around that time.) Years later I came across a quote that captured the sentiment, the quote, by Robert Schumann, goes something like this "When I am drunk I can't do anything useful but the following day my imagination soars."
My attempt to explain my reverse hangover to people usually met with dismal failure, and still does actually. I've met numerous artists and creative people that like to drink, but I still think I've never met someone who drank to get "reverse hangovers" like I did. ...
22-24 I read lots of neuroscience and psychology. I finally got a sense of how heavy drinking had this beneficial effect, attributing it to alterations in brain Serotonin levels ... an explanation that more or less was correct, I still think. And not only was heavy drinking beneficial, my happiest, most creative, best days came from the heaviest drinking. By drinking I would wipe my memory clean, loose consciousness in a calm but eager mood, go through the next few days with a clear head.
Unlike later on in my life, after I got back from living in Europe, I don't think I usually got much from the social environment I was in, usually I would drink in bars and feel unhappy, out of place, and unable to connect with anyone there. But I really was drinking to get drunk, and over time I worked it into a system that worked pretty well. The day after getting really drunk was the best day of my week, I'd often be awake for 25-30 hours straight and compared to the other days of the week, my mind was together and focused when I read, when I wrote and when I communicated with other people.
The advantages were obvious and the disadvantages felt small in comparison. A general sense that it wasn't healthy, that other people wouldn't understand why I liked to drink or sympathize with it, that I was in a vulnerable state once I reached a certain amount of intoxication. These were all pretty minor side-effects, and more or less remained so until a few months ago when habitual drinking took its leave from my life.
[This is been sitting on my browser for 2 days, plan at the moment is to go back and finish writing it next week so ...]
To be Continued
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Return Of The Introvert
Huge changes in my life since I was writing on here every week, or putting what I wrote on here every week.
I'm finding it difficult to find anything to write about, and to be honest this hardly bothers me. No need to stroke my ego writing something that isn't going to reach anyone, or clarify anything for myself.
I think the poems I wrote were pretty good, in Prague and in Pittsburgh. They articulated how I felt, and used language in an original and often funny way. Problem is that when I go over them now I feel like I am reading something someone else wrote. Sixth Gallery Press should get around to publishing them, more than likely they'll get to print a few years from now, if at all.
*
Most of the extroverted more bombastic parts of my personality have faded away. Before dancing at bars and shows was a weekly ritual, now I really have no urge to do this whatsoever. Same with having a knack for talking with people I just met or don't know well, ability to witticize and impress people with use of language. Again and again I've found acquaintances, even good friends, completely failing to understand what motivates me, how I see things etc. Since I can't expect acquaintances to understand me, why should I even attempt to get myself across to strangers?
Not that I think of myself as particularly hard to understand. I read and listen to books a-lot, spend a great amount of time studying chess and learning languages. Listen to lots of classical music, think that getting SSI was one of the best things that happened to me ... have all the time in the world to grow as a person, to really dive deep into the areas I want to learn about.
My reasonable speculation is that more than 90% of people with a personality type like this go into academia. In certain social environments like that I'd be entirely typical and easily understood - not where life has taken me though! And thankful that it hasn't!
Seems pretty universal to me that people are attracted to people who are similar, huge amount of research into this in social psychology by the way. Clear as day to me now that I am very unlikely to meet people who share my interests at a bar, at a show, at some party. So why make the effort? Not all the time, but most of the time, when I went out and meet my friends, I look back on the time afterward and realize it would have been spent better alone, working at the various things I am trying to learn about. When I went out to try to hang out with people I was trying to fulfill a vague emotional desire, rather than meeting up with people who I had rewarding connections with.
For a long time I was the extrovert, getting an emotional reward and calm from other people. This wore thin though and when it no longer worked it lead to a long mild depression, one which fully lifted only when I realized that I was looking for something I wasn't going to find. The idea was that if you like people, they usually like back, leading to a mutually rewarding relationship, whether they be friends, acquaintances, or just strangers you are having a one-time conversation with.
Having to choose between being well-liked and being well-understood I will always choose the latter, and this was what was missing during my extroverted phase. (phase? more like huge chapter of my life!) Not that I think it's anyone's fault, I return to the common sentiment of an introvert, you need a one-on-one conversation to really communicate with someone, preferably many one-on-one conversations. The limits of how much of yourself you can get across conversing at a table with a group of people is limited indeed. If someone's never played chess you aren't going to get across much about what attracts you to the game. If someone hasn't listened to much classical music they aren't going to get what draws you to it, and with neuroscience, languages, etc etc. People seem predestined to understand and connect with eachother, or not, before they ever meet. Do I feel any unhappiness or regret that I am unlikely to make this sort of connection with 95% of the people I come across? Definitely not!
Mistakes someone makes are only apparent to them after they stop making them. Weaknesses in someones personality are only apparent to them after they have overcome them (when someone is depressed in some sense they have a more realistic sense of themselves, but in another they prove themselves completely incapable of thinking clearly of the problems that confront them, and how to overcome them.) How clearly now these days, feeling quite a different person than I was during my extroverted phase, can I remember how I was and see what lacked in my character.
I had a conception of myself at being great at conversation and communication. Unlike most people I wasn't intimidated by talking to people I didn't know, aggressively trying to strike up a conversation, not caring what people thought of me, by a powerful intuition finding a suitable topic of conversation for the moment, an attitude to adopt for the moment. ... But as I look back now I see how egocentric my effort was, so much of an effort to impress, not nearly enough empathy and connection. It doesn't feel like such an accomplishment to be able to say the right things and speak fast, feels more important if I am able to talk with someone and have the conversation mean something to them, to mean something to each other even if as acquaintances. Talking to someone a single time likely isn't going to mean a thing in the long run, if I meet someone repeatedly and we have talked five, ten, fifteen times, then maybe, as I look at it now, some type of mutual rewarding communicative interaction may come about.
Am I a happier, more fulfilled person than I was a year ago? Definitely. The weeks go by and I'm focused on what I want to learn, what I want to do with my mind. It's harrowing even that I could see five years of life go by with me staying in the same basic pattern each week, content that almost all of this time be spent alone, with almost no one getting what I am trying to do with my precious time.
I'm finding it difficult to find anything to write about, and to be honest this hardly bothers me. No need to stroke my ego writing something that isn't going to reach anyone, or clarify anything for myself.
I think the poems I wrote were pretty good, in Prague and in Pittsburgh. They articulated how I felt, and used language in an original and often funny way. Problem is that when I go over them now I feel like I am reading something someone else wrote. Sixth Gallery Press should get around to publishing them, more than likely they'll get to print a few years from now, if at all.
*
Most of the extroverted more bombastic parts of my personality have faded away. Before dancing at bars and shows was a weekly ritual, now I really have no urge to do this whatsoever. Same with having a knack for talking with people I just met or don't know well, ability to witticize and impress people with use of language. Again and again I've found acquaintances, even good friends, completely failing to understand what motivates me, how I see things etc. Since I can't expect acquaintances to understand me, why should I even attempt to get myself across to strangers?
Not that I think of myself as particularly hard to understand. I read and listen to books a-lot, spend a great amount of time studying chess and learning languages. Listen to lots of classical music, think that getting SSI was one of the best things that happened to me ... have all the time in the world to grow as a person, to really dive deep into the areas I want to learn about.
My reasonable speculation is that more than 90% of people with a personality type like this go into academia. In certain social environments like that I'd be entirely typical and easily understood - not where life has taken me though! And thankful that it hasn't!
Seems pretty universal to me that people are attracted to people who are similar, huge amount of research into this in social psychology by the way. Clear as day to me now that I am very unlikely to meet people who share my interests at a bar, at a show, at some party. So why make the effort? Not all the time, but most of the time, when I went out and meet my friends, I look back on the time afterward and realize it would have been spent better alone, working at the various things I am trying to learn about. When I went out to try to hang out with people I was trying to fulfill a vague emotional desire, rather than meeting up with people who I had rewarding connections with.
For a long time I was the extrovert, getting an emotional reward and calm from other people. This wore thin though and when it no longer worked it lead to a long mild depression, one which fully lifted only when I realized that I was looking for something I wasn't going to find. The idea was that if you like people, they usually like back, leading to a mutually rewarding relationship, whether they be friends, acquaintances, or just strangers you are having a one-time conversation with.
Having to choose between being well-liked and being well-understood I will always choose the latter, and this was what was missing during my extroverted phase. (phase? more like huge chapter of my life!) Not that I think it's anyone's fault, I return to the common sentiment of an introvert, you need a one-on-one conversation to really communicate with someone, preferably many one-on-one conversations. The limits of how much of yourself you can get across conversing at a table with a group of people is limited indeed. If someone's never played chess you aren't going to get across much about what attracts you to the game. If someone hasn't listened to much classical music they aren't going to get what draws you to it, and with neuroscience, languages, etc etc. People seem predestined to understand and connect with eachother, or not, before they ever meet. Do I feel any unhappiness or regret that I am unlikely to make this sort of connection with 95% of the people I come across? Definitely not!
Mistakes someone makes are only apparent to them after they stop making them. Weaknesses in someones personality are only apparent to them after they have overcome them (when someone is depressed in some sense they have a more realistic sense of themselves, but in another they prove themselves completely incapable of thinking clearly of the problems that confront them, and how to overcome them.) How clearly now these days, feeling quite a different person than I was during my extroverted phase, can I remember how I was and see what lacked in my character.
I had a conception of myself at being great at conversation and communication. Unlike most people I wasn't intimidated by talking to people I didn't know, aggressively trying to strike up a conversation, not caring what people thought of me, by a powerful intuition finding a suitable topic of conversation for the moment, an attitude to adopt for the moment. ... But as I look back now I see how egocentric my effort was, so much of an effort to impress, not nearly enough empathy and connection. It doesn't feel like such an accomplishment to be able to say the right things and speak fast, feels more important if I am able to talk with someone and have the conversation mean something to them, to mean something to each other even if as acquaintances. Talking to someone a single time likely isn't going to mean a thing in the long run, if I meet someone repeatedly and we have talked five, ten, fifteen times, then maybe, as I look at it now, some type of mutual rewarding communicative interaction may come about.
Am I a happier, more fulfilled person than I was a year ago? Definitely. The weeks go by and I'm focused on what I want to learn, what I want to do with my mind. It's harrowing even that I could see five years of life go by with me staying in the same basic pattern each week, content that almost all of this time be spent alone, with almost no one getting what I am trying to do with my precious time.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Too much self-reflection
Too much self-reflection
Too many loops
It all gets pretty tame
I'm drunk high and stupid and must of all enthused!
Diabelli variations playing, Indeed Beethoven is a king
Just a little modesty, chess games after chess games
These thoughts are so loose, so loose indeed
No food, no lead, no keen
No mean, no loops, the loops suck, that inner lame
Dunno, drunk skunk with dear Beethoven, life is long, my heart feels strong
Too many loops
It all gets pretty tame
I'm drunk high and stupid and must of all enthused!
Diabelli variations playing, Indeed Beethoven is a king
Just a little modesty, chess games after chess games
These thoughts are so loose, so loose indeed
No food, no lead, no keen
No mean, no loops, the loops suck, that inner lame
Dunno, drunk skunk with dear Beethoven, life is long, my heart feels strong
Recession and Enthuiasm
Back to writing here! Same as usual, not really writing on here, just posting whatever I write in addition to storing it on a file on my computer.
So I see myself as a writer, primary self identity thing, and hardly write anything for half a year or so. Deep down that's fine, and a strange relief wherein I know I am not writing anything bad, I at least am not being a bad writer, by not writing. Pretty much like staying alone in your room feeling depressed instead of going out to a party and being lame and unexeciting. Pretty much.
Half a year of writers block coupled with a horde of other psychological problems. What do you do when you understand to a T the cause of your psychological problems but feel unable to change anything? That happens again and again in the course of my adult life - where I feel like I have a perfect grasp of happiness in theory, what any person should do and be to be happy (and so creative, impressive, etc) but feel unable to do anything with that and quagmire in psychological problems. How many dozens and dozens of times does the same thought run through a depressed mind until the repetition of the thought pattern becomes boring?
So, I spend half a year missing the feeling of complete and utter happiness, fearing and angsting that the golden creative part of my life is gone and done. Stuck deep down in a stupid psychological process, an inner lameness. Pretty stunning that I can go from witty conversationalist saying "hello, how are you" to everyone I could to someone who could only conversate by thinking aloud in aloof autistic manner. My friend is definitely write when claiming creativity is like libido. A year of hypersexuality and then an almost utter flatline and lack.
There are advantageous aspects to month long mild depressions though, with an objectivity and clarity that cannot be in a person when he/she is enthuiastic and creative you get to reflect, think about, realize all of your flaws and shortcomings. When enthused I danced and drunk and felt like a champion. I think about how I was then when depressed and see an almost bizarre obliviousness and excessive childish show-offness. ... And I'd list list list all the other analagous examples if my mindset, or this post was fitting. People, most people, end up bending to other peoples perception of them, people at large see you as strong then you become strong, they see you as learned you become learned, internalizing it, and so on, well studied phenomenon. I felt like champion inside and was determined to impress and make other people see me as I saw myself - is there really any other legitimate way to live than this, that isn't lame? ... Long story short I get sick of people at large, stop concerning myself to appear as a champion or anything to them. Something good there, and a-lot that isn't so good. The inner complete self confidence slips away and then I'm left alienated and alone, disconnected, not bitter, but with a constant feeling of lack, which becomes based in actual objective self awareness. How does one express thoughts that you have thought to yourself hundreds of times to the point of being utterly bored with them? How does one escape a wretched psychological pit that has been fallen into?
The thoughts run on in my head, but this humble little post ends here - as I go back to drinking and smoking and a beautiful intoxication of joy that should continue on for a few days! And I'll lay in bed alone a Crusoe in my world, smiling up at nothing and feeling full of bliss.
So I see myself as a writer, primary self identity thing, and hardly write anything for half a year or so. Deep down that's fine, and a strange relief wherein I know I am not writing anything bad, I at least am not being a bad writer, by not writing. Pretty much like staying alone in your room feeling depressed instead of going out to a party and being lame and unexeciting. Pretty much.
Half a year of writers block coupled with a horde of other psychological problems. What do you do when you understand to a T the cause of your psychological problems but feel unable to change anything? That happens again and again in the course of my adult life - where I feel like I have a perfect grasp of happiness in theory, what any person should do and be to be happy (and so creative, impressive, etc) but feel unable to do anything with that and quagmire in psychological problems. How many dozens and dozens of times does the same thought run through a depressed mind until the repetition of the thought pattern becomes boring?
So, I spend half a year missing the feeling of complete and utter happiness, fearing and angsting that the golden creative part of my life is gone and done. Stuck deep down in a stupid psychological process, an inner lameness. Pretty stunning that I can go from witty conversationalist saying "hello, how are you" to everyone I could to someone who could only conversate by thinking aloud in aloof autistic manner. My friend is definitely write when claiming creativity is like libido. A year of hypersexuality and then an almost utter flatline and lack.
There are advantageous aspects to month long mild depressions though, with an objectivity and clarity that cannot be in a person when he/she is enthuiastic and creative you get to reflect, think about, realize all of your flaws and shortcomings. When enthused I danced and drunk and felt like a champion. I think about how I was then when depressed and see an almost bizarre obliviousness and excessive childish show-offness. ... And I'd list list list all the other analagous examples if my mindset, or this post was fitting. People, most people, end up bending to other peoples perception of them, people at large see you as strong then you become strong, they see you as learned you become learned, internalizing it, and so on, well studied phenomenon. I felt like champion inside and was determined to impress and make other people see me as I saw myself - is there really any other legitimate way to live than this, that isn't lame? ... Long story short I get sick of people at large, stop concerning myself to appear as a champion or anything to them. Something good there, and a-lot that isn't so good. The inner complete self confidence slips away and then I'm left alienated and alone, disconnected, not bitter, but with a constant feeling of lack, which becomes based in actual objective self awareness. How does one express thoughts that you have thought to yourself hundreds of times to the point of being utterly bored with them? How does one escape a wretched psychological pit that has been fallen into?
The thoughts run on in my head, but this humble little post ends here - as I go back to drinking and smoking and a beautiful intoxication of joy that should continue on for a few days! And I'll lay in bed alone a Crusoe in my world, smiling up at nothing and feeling full of bliss.
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Self-Fulfilling Prophecy
Self-Fulfilling Prophecy
People don't realize how true it is
You think it, you believe it, usually that comes true
At least there is no room for fantasy
Some person floats into life and changes it, for example
Some men think: "I am a failure"
So more or less, they can't be more
Some men think "I am not happy here"
So whatever might be in front of them
They won't be happy there, wherever it is
It is, I suppose, the dread and joy of a full self-concept
Different parts come and go but mine remains
I am great, and I am alone
Would I be great if I wasn't alone?
It gets so internalized, man
The best moments at a party
I leave fine, a happy man alone
I fit the world to the notion
Full of success then
And full of unhappiness then
No solution apparent to that
Not in this chapter of life
Well, this is honest and set
I grunted and opposed authority by instinct today
The good and the bad of it
I spent the day alone with art music and art film
I was sick but felt stronger than most men
What will change and make me cheery and glowing again?
I'll do it all myself, sorry I'm not very lucky there
I go off and burn this life for a long time
And again make it so no one means anything
Which is the best advice of everyone pretty much
People don't realize how true it is
You think it, you believe it, usually that comes true
At least there is no room for fantasy
Some person floats into life and changes it, for example
Some men think: "I am a failure"
So more or less, they can't be more
Some men think "I am not happy here"
So whatever might be in front of them
They won't be happy there, wherever it is
It is, I suppose, the dread and joy of a full self-concept
Different parts come and go but mine remains
I am great, and I am alone
Would I be great if I wasn't alone?
It gets so internalized, man
The best moments at a party
I leave fine, a happy man alone
I fit the world to the notion
Full of success then
And full of unhappiness then
No solution apparent to that
Not in this chapter of life
Well, this is honest and set
I grunted and opposed authority by instinct today
The good and the bad of it
I spent the day alone with art music and art film
I was sick but felt stronger than most men
What will change and make me cheery and glowing again?
I'll do it all myself, sorry I'm not very lucky there
I go off and burn this life for a long time
And again make it so no one means anything
Which is the best advice of everyone pretty much
Friday, September 3, 2010
ups and downs, do's and don'ts
I haven't been writing at all and I hope that I am not letting anyone down. My mind stopped being creative in the way it was - something honestly that feels horrible. Well, I'm not happy about that at all but at least I know I have not become a bad writer, isn't it better to not say anything than to say nothing worthwhile?
What can I say? I'll be happy when I'm able to the verbal-creative part of my mind working again.
What can I say? I'll be happy when I'm able to the verbal-creative part of my mind working again.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Where oh Where
Where oh Where
Where do I go?
When do I go?
Whatever
Once I'm somewhere Fresh
It just need be fresh
Well, that excites me
Hibernating, forced to hibernate in summer
Bah bah bah
At least I'm no sheep
At least I'm no square
Stupid idea is to think like this:
I was great, Stupendously great
So I'll be content with that, I'm done
That fails
That sucks
One worthy life
One lucky boy, here
Focus life on chess – bad idea
Focus life on Pittsburgh – bad idea
And here the beautiful mind pauses stupidly
Question of potential
The actual great in me has become comatose
I get shimmers of the greatness now and then these days
But I lived like a god and I'll go back to that
Living like a god means
Being happy all the time and hyper-talkative
Driven by love, of course, and you know your the stronger person
You laugh, you don't care how people think
You laugh a-lot and sing a-lot and the world warps around you
Brilliancies and happiness and understanding
You don't care that nobody cares about you
You dance around and dance well
You are beautiful because you don't need them
No neediness so you can give and light up all the while
Mind is faster and quicker and that's a reason not to care about them
Again and again, awesomely, and it could continue on and on
The solitude is beautiful
You appear so connected
And you start meeting them
They have lives, you can't insert yourself in them
It's not against them
Their relative strength
You suspect that love is quite a lie
And behind it is the weakness of people
Cause when I'm strong alone is fine
That stratifies, struggles, stagnation, that results
That is basic, too much content alone
Or really too much anything
Too okay alone
Don't really know what to say
Some people care about me
Some people understand me
Really no reason, theory goes, to feel unhappy
I know, but
Forgive the philosophy here
Mind comes from brain
And the part that made calm and social
Is now making reserve and inhibition
Where do I go?
When do I go?
Whatever
Once I'm somewhere Fresh
It just need be fresh
Well, that excites me
Hibernating, forced to hibernate in summer
Bah bah bah
At least I'm no sheep
At least I'm no square
Stupid idea is to think like this:
I was great, Stupendously great
So I'll be content with that, I'm done
That fails
That sucks
One worthy life
One lucky boy, here
Focus life on chess – bad idea
Focus life on Pittsburgh – bad idea
And here the beautiful mind pauses stupidly
Question of potential
The actual great in me has become comatose
I get shimmers of the greatness now and then these days
But I lived like a god and I'll go back to that
Living like a god means
Being happy all the time and hyper-talkative
Driven by love, of course, and you know your the stronger person
You laugh, you don't care how people think
You laugh a-lot and sing a-lot and the world warps around you
Brilliancies and happiness and understanding
You don't care that nobody cares about you
You dance around and dance well
You are beautiful because you don't need them
No neediness so you can give and light up all the while
Mind is faster and quicker and that's a reason not to care about them
Again and again, awesomely, and it could continue on and on
The solitude is beautiful
You appear so connected
And you start meeting them
They have lives, you can't insert yourself in them
It's not against them
Their relative strength
You suspect that love is quite a lie
And behind it is the weakness of people
Cause when I'm strong alone is fine
That stratifies, struggles, stagnation, that results
That is basic, too much content alone
Or really too much anything
Too okay alone
Don't really know what to say
Some people care about me
Some people understand me
Really no reason, theory goes, to feel unhappy
I know, but
Forgive the philosophy here
Mind comes from brain
And the part that made calm and social
Is now making reserve and inhibition
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