I have been taking antidepressants for about 1.5 years now. "Citalopram", specifically. It does nothing to remove my depression, but it seems to help with anxiety. That's all I really want. Anyway. I spaced taking a pill yesterday. After roughly 30 hours I begin to get withdrawal symptoms while my brain chemistry decides that being stable is no longer fun.
Withdrawal symptoms may include: hazy mind, headache, feeling faint, and feeling like you are dreaming. While in this state I refer to myself as "not existing" simply because everything feels like a fever dream. I move my head too quickly and I drop to 0% brainpower for half a second. Once I stop moving, I am nearly back to normal. The sensation is unpleasant, to say the least.
There is some confusion, though, on the origin of this feeling. The reason I began taking the medication was for precisely the same symptoms that I get during withdrawals. I felt floaty, disconnected, and felt as if I could pass out at any moment. Doctors figured it was an anxiety attack. Honestly, I have no idea what it was. I just wanted it gone. Maybe these meds are holding those problems at bay, and the feelings are not withdrawals.
In either case I have to take my antidepressants every night to exist. If I miss one night, I turn into an astronaut the next day. Luckily the pills are essentially free. My existence costs 15 cents a day. How about yours?
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
A Piece of Me
I could describe myself in detail, or even show a picture. However, I do not feel that accurately portrays who I am. No little post can achieve that. I am no cliche, nor meme, nor simple man. The best I can do to convey who I am is to share with you a memory. One that is dear to me. Maybe then you can see just a small corner of the person behind the text.
This is a piece of me.
As a boy growing up in Montana I naturally enjoyed sledding in the winter months. My friends shared this sentiment. We often got together and marched high into the wooded hills of our backyards in search of the perfect slope. Perfect, in our eyes, simply meant no rocks or trees, and maybe if we were lucky some type of jump near the bottom. During one specific winter we almost succeeded in our hunt. Almost.
Two friends and I were about a mile from one of our houses and decided that the hill we found was perfect for a long, fast, sled ride. We hiked up to the peak of the slope, sleds towed behind, and prepared ourselves for the ride. My friends went first, both having a great time descending. My turn.
I jumped on my sled and began to accelerate. Soon I was going faster than I was comfortable with and the sled began to lose control. Thinking quickly I attempted to steer the sled into a slower incline. I failed. The sled tipped over, throwing me out. My body hit the snow, penetrating the small layer of fresh precipitation. My knee struck a stone hidden below and ripped a giant hole in my pants. Luckily by then I was frozen from the long trek to the hill and only felt the impact. I rolled for a time, and then finally stopped.
My friends were laughing playfully as they walked towards me. It was then that I noticed my torn pants and a growing discoloration around the area. I inspected the damage and found a massive gash covering most of my kneecap and blood was flowing steadily from the wound. My friends stopped laughing and decided the best plan of action was to use the sled as a makeshift stretcher for the mile journey to my friend's house. The hill quickly became too bumpy for this to work. So, not yet feeling any pain because of the cold, I grabbed a glove full of snow, jammed it on my destroyed knee, and began walking. I was struck by the humor of being a human strawberry snowcone machine.
About half way to safety the pain began. Even the snow was unable to stop it. Since I had no choice, I kept walking. The bleeding steadily got worse and worse until finally we reached the house. My friend's mother took our her tiny first aid kid and attempted to dress the wound. We tore the leg of my pants off and I could see how drenched my pants, shoes, and socks were. Red everywhere. My family was called, and I was taken to the ER.
This was the first time getting stitches, and it was an odd experience. After only 9 stitches I was released from the hospital with a huge bandage over my leg. I was told that I could not bend my knee for 3 weeks or else I would reopen the wound. I can tell you from experience: knees are important. Walking up stairs with 1 peg leg is rough!
Through all of this, even as a boy, I didn't cry or complain. I just did what I had to do because there was no other option.
This is a piece of me.
As a boy growing up in Montana I naturally enjoyed sledding in the winter months. My friends shared this sentiment. We often got together and marched high into the wooded hills of our backyards in search of the perfect slope. Perfect, in our eyes, simply meant no rocks or trees, and maybe if we were lucky some type of jump near the bottom. During one specific winter we almost succeeded in our hunt. Almost.
Two friends and I were about a mile from one of our houses and decided that the hill we found was perfect for a long, fast, sled ride. We hiked up to the peak of the slope, sleds towed behind, and prepared ourselves for the ride. My friends went first, both having a great time descending. My turn.
I jumped on my sled and began to accelerate. Soon I was going faster than I was comfortable with and the sled began to lose control. Thinking quickly I attempted to steer the sled into a slower incline. I failed. The sled tipped over, throwing me out. My body hit the snow, penetrating the small layer of fresh precipitation. My knee struck a stone hidden below and ripped a giant hole in my pants. Luckily by then I was frozen from the long trek to the hill and only felt the impact. I rolled for a time, and then finally stopped.
My friends were laughing playfully as they walked towards me. It was then that I noticed my torn pants and a growing discoloration around the area. I inspected the damage and found a massive gash covering most of my kneecap and blood was flowing steadily from the wound. My friends stopped laughing and decided the best plan of action was to use the sled as a makeshift stretcher for the mile journey to my friend's house. The hill quickly became too bumpy for this to work. So, not yet feeling any pain because of the cold, I grabbed a glove full of snow, jammed it on my destroyed knee, and began walking. I was struck by the humor of being a human strawberry snowcone machine.
About half way to safety the pain began. Even the snow was unable to stop it. Since I had no choice, I kept walking. The bleeding steadily got worse and worse until finally we reached the house. My friend's mother took our her tiny first aid kid and attempted to dress the wound. We tore the leg of my pants off and I could see how drenched my pants, shoes, and socks were. Red everywhere. My family was called, and I was taken to the ER.
This was the first time getting stitches, and it was an odd experience. After only 9 stitches I was released from the hospital with a huge bandage over my leg. I was told that I could not bend my knee for 3 weeks or else I would reopen the wound. I can tell you from experience: knees are important. Walking up stairs with 1 peg leg is rough!
Through all of this, even as a boy, I didn't cry or complain. I just did what I had to do because there was no other option.
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
An Alien's Point of View: The Gym
There is a writing exercise I often ran into growing up. Describe something like you were talking to an alien from outer space. What follows is a slight modification of that practice: a normal situation as described by an outer space alien. Today the alien goes to the gym.
I enter the rudimentary airlocks at the front of the structure. Inside lies a console with bipedal beings at the ready. To enter, you must present some type of identification device. If you have the proper credentials you are allowed passage into a long, tiled hallway. After ascending some steps, you reach a very peculiar room filled with pulleys, shaped metal tubes, and iron plates.
From what I can tell, the bipeds on the mechanisms are being tortured. All of the beings have a strange look on their faces, as if in pain. They also appear to be trying to escape the machines, but failing repeatedly. I fail to see how they possibly manage that considering they have full control over the resistance applied to their awkward bodies. After numerous tries, they do eventually escape their prisons and move on only to be trapped by others. Maybe the structure houses experiments that modify behavior. That would explain the airlocks and security. Their behavior simply cannot be normal.
One behavior I find especially striking. Several bipeds seem to voluntarily place themselves on circular tracks and flee from some unknown force. Even stranger, next to the fleeing bipeds are a type of step simulator. Maybe they are attempting to reach the top of the structure? Hm. They could be generating power. That would explain the repetitive behavior. Yes...
My final hypothesis is that this area is not a torture chamber or an experimental lab, but a generator. A subset of bipeds are chosen to come to this place every day and move around to generate energy. For what reason, I cannot say. Someone should tell them that the energy generated is not enough to make up for the food they must eat to complete the work.
All they are achieving is to waste time, energy, and increase the universes entropy. Silly bipeds.
I enter the rudimentary airlocks at the front of the structure. Inside lies a console with bipedal beings at the ready. To enter, you must present some type of identification device. If you have the proper credentials you are allowed passage into a long, tiled hallway. After ascending some steps, you reach a very peculiar room filled with pulleys, shaped metal tubes, and iron plates.
From what I can tell, the bipeds on the mechanisms are being tortured. All of the beings have a strange look on their faces, as if in pain. They also appear to be trying to escape the machines, but failing repeatedly. I fail to see how they possibly manage that considering they have full control over the resistance applied to their awkward bodies. After numerous tries, they do eventually escape their prisons and move on only to be trapped by others. Maybe the structure houses experiments that modify behavior. That would explain the airlocks and security. Their behavior simply cannot be normal.
One behavior I find especially striking. Several bipeds seem to voluntarily place themselves on circular tracks and flee from some unknown force. Even stranger, next to the fleeing bipeds are a type of step simulator. Maybe they are attempting to reach the top of the structure? Hm. They could be generating power. That would explain the repetitive behavior. Yes...
My final hypothesis is that this area is not a torture chamber or an experimental lab, but a generator. A subset of bipeds are chosen to come to this place every day and move around to generate energy. For what reason, I cannot say. Someone should tell them that the energy generated is not enough to make up for the food they must eat to complete the work.
All they are achieving is to waste time, energy, and increase the universes entropy. Silly bipeds.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Oh, Death.
Let me begin by stating an obvious fact: we all die. We all know this. We learn it at a very young age, and it is profound. For many of us, this knowledge is intensely destructive. I can understand why such understanding can be paralyzing, but I never shared in the terror.
The fear of death is something that is terribly difficult to escape. Imagine. One day you will breath your last breath and fade from this universe. You will be gone. Forever. Nobody will ever see you, hear you, smell you, taste you. This description is horrifying for most. Again, I can understand why. You never have enough time to do all you want to do. On top of that, your death may cause severe harm for your family or friends. So many negative outcomes can be realized upon death. But. We know it is coming. We may not know the day or time, but we know it is inevitable.
Why fear the inevitable? I suffer from this trap. I often fear of the future. What will tomorrow bring? The unknown is what gives me pause. Maybe that is why we fear death. It is not that we will cease to exist, but that we have no information beyond that moment. The unknown of death is beyond all measure and description.
I do not fear death. I had to face death for about a year growing up. I was sick, you see, and the doctors kept asking me questions on whether I had a growth in my brain. The sickness turned out to be non-life threatening, but spending a year thinking you are dying when you are 16 can cause some changes. For a long while I had dreams of dying. Some people say that if you die in your dreams you die in real life. Don't listen to those people. I hit the pavement during many a dream fall. The point is: if you process death and come to terms with it, the fear of death has little hold. I was unfortunate enough to find this out first hand.
I think, though, people do not have to go through such an experience to be free of the destructive nature of the fear. Simply embracing the fact that we die, like so many cultures in the past, helps free us from the paralysis. We cannot lie to ourselves, or hide the truth. We must absolutely understand that one day you will die. No anti-aging cream or plastic surgery will stop it. You will die. If you are lucky, you will get old before hand. That's just another part of life.
Death and Taxes. Of the two, I say fear taxes.
The fear of death is something that is terribly difficult to escape. Imagine. One day you will breath your last breath and fade from this universe. You will be gone. Forever. Nobody will ever see you, hear you, smell you, taste you. This description is horrifying for most. Again, I can understand why. You never have enough time to do all you want to do. On top of that, your death may cause severe harm for your family or friends. So many negative outcomes can be realized upon death. But. We know it is coming. We may not know the day or time, but we know it is inevitable.
Why fear the inevitable? I suffer from this trap. I often fear of the future. What will tomorrow bring? The unknown is what gives me pause. Maybe that is why we fear death. It is not that we will cease to exist, but that we have no information beyond that moment. The unknown of death is beyond all measure and description.
I do not fear death. I had to face death for about a year growing up. I was sick, you see, and the doctors kept asking me questions on whether I had a growth in my brain. The sickness turned out to be non-life threatening, but spending a year thinking you are dying when you are 16 can cause some changes. For a long while I had dreams of dying. Some people say that if you die in your dreams you die in real life. Don't listen to those people. I hit the pavement during many a dream fall. The point is: if you process death and come to terms with it, the fear of death has little hold. I was unfortunate enough to find this out first hand.
I think, though, people do not have to go through such an experience to be free of the destructive nature of the fear. Simply embracing the fact that we die, like so many cultures in the past, helps free us from the paralysis. We cannot lie to ourselves, or hide the truth. We must absolutely understand that one day you will die. No anti-aging cream or plastic surgery will stop it. You will die. If you are lucky, you will get old before hand. That's just another part of life.
Death and Taxes. Of the two, I say fear taxes.
Saturday, July 24, 2010
The Need
I am done living alone. I am done being the quiet man who puts his head down and simply exists. I need a relationship. Need it like food or water or air. The Need is great, and I can no longer stand for it.
Being lonely starts off as a cold, empty feeling. You feel as if you are missing something, but you can't exactly understand what. Through time this feeling grows until you are choking on it. Every night burns the feeling deeper into your mind. You lie awake at night and stare at your ceiling wishing you did not have to suffer being alone for one more second. After a while the loneliness stops growing. For a while this is a great thing. But eventually you realize that you are simply becoming more used the feeling. You grow so used to being alone that you forget about it for a time. Then something happens that brings it all back in force.
The event that awakens the loneliness could be anything. It can be as benign as walking along a street or as profound as falling in love. Make no mistake. If you spend enough time feeling alone this moment will come. There is no way to prepare. You will be crushed. You will suffer.
From there loneliness continues growing, but now it is far worse. The feeling won't stop expanding until nothing is left of you. You thought you were choking before but you realize now... you are drowning. Every attractive person you see adds another gallon to the lake of singularity.
Finally, you explicitly realize that loneliness is no longer an option. You either start looking for someone or you give up and drown in the pain.
I have made my choice. The Need wins. I will find someone. I will fight, tooth and nail, against loneliness and I will be victorious.
Being lonely starts off as a cold, empty feeling. You feel as if you are missing something, but you can't exactly understand what. Through time this feeling grows until you are choking on it. Every night burns the feeling deeper into your mind. You lie awake at night and stare at your ceiling wishing you did not have to suffer being alone for one more second. After a while the loneliness stops growing. For a while this is a great thing. But eventually you realize that you are simply becoming more used the feeling. You grow so used to being alone that you forget about it for a time. Then something happens that brings it all back in force.
The event that awakens the loneliness could be anything. It can be as benign as walking along a street or as profound as falling in love. Make no mistake. If you spend enough time feeling alone this moment will come. There is no way to prepare. You will be crushed. You will suffer.
From there loneliness continues growing, but now it is far worse. The feeling won't stop expanding until nothing is left of you. You thought you were choking before but you realize now... you are drowning. Every attractive person you see adds another gallon to the lake of singularity.
Finally, you explicitly realize that loneliness is no longer an option. You either start looking for someone or you give up and drown in the pain.
I have made my choice. The Need wins. I will find someone. I will fight, tooth and nail, against loneliness and I will be victorious.
Fury
"Rage. Rage against the dying of the light."
Over the physically and emotionally painful years I have lost much of my emotional capacity. Happiness has been mutilated, sadness has been numbed into oblivion, and fear has been ripped to shreds. Anger. Anger has not been reduced in any capacity. In fact, it is more intense now.
The similarity between fury and fire is obvious. They both burn and consume and expand when given any fuel. Both can keep you warm in the cold times or burn you if you let it get out of control. Out of the two, fury is the worst. Anger is terribly difficult to stamp out. The more you try, the more it fights back. Through time the madness seems to spontaneously ignite itself. It becomes uncontrollable and dangerous to anyone around you, including yourself. The emotion can consume you whole. I struggle daily against my final, furious emotion. But instead of trying to extinguish the flames I try to force it into a fuel source.
I use the rage to keep me going. When depression hits me like an avalanche I push back with the full force of my fury. So far the technique has served me well. Every day is treated like a combat scenario and the rage keeps me powering through it all. As you can imagine, this technique is not without its drawbacks.
Like a boiler used to keep a building war, fury requires a constant fuel source. The more you feed it, the harder it becomes to let it subside. Soon you realize that the power you rely upon is eating you alive and leaving nothing but ash. You are a man on fire. A man of fire.
I was this man of flame for a long time. Maybe that has not changed. Lately, though, either the forces around me have become too strong or my furious fuel has been dwindling. And... I think I'm alright with that. Enough of me has been exhausted from the internal blaze.
The light died long ago. Time to stop raging against it and find a new fuel source.
Over the physically and emotionally painful years I have lost much of my emotional capacity. Happiness has been mutilated, sadness has been numbed into oblivion, and fear has been ripped to shreds. Anger. Anger has not been reduced in any capacity. In fact, it is more intense now.
The similarity between fury and fire is obvious. They both burn and consume and expand when given any fuel. Both can keep you warm in the cold times or burn you if you let it get out of control. Out of the two, fury is the worst. Anger is terribly difficult to stamp out. The more you try, the more it fights back. Through time the madness seems to spontaneously ignite itself. It becomes uncontrollable and dangerous to anyone around you, including yourself. The emotion can consume you whole. I struggle daily against my final, furious emotion. But instead of trying to extinguish the flames I try to force it into a fuel source.
I use the rage to keep me going. When depression hits me like an avalanche I push back with the full force of my fury. So far the technique has served me well. Every day is treated like a combat scenario and the rage keeps me powering through it all. As you can imagine, this technique is not without its drawbacks.
Like a boiler used to keep a building war, fury requires a constant fuel source. The more you feed it, the harder it becomes to let it subside. Soon you realize that the power you rely upon is eating you alive and leaving nothing but ash. You are a man on fire. A man of fire.
I was this man of flame for a long time. Maybe that has not changed. Lately, though, either the forces around me have become too strong or my furious fuel has been dwindling. And... I think I'm alright with that. Enough of me has been exhausted from the internal blaze.
The light died long ago. Time to stop raging against it and find a new fuel source.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Statistics
This all occurred during my last semester in college.
In my statistics class I sat behind a woman that I was entirely infatuated with. She was beautiful and smart and nice and sweet. Enough so that all of my defenses started to collapse, and I decided to attempt to ask her out. This may not seem like a difficult thing, but to me it is beyond monumental. I do not know why such a simple and common action can be so exceptionally difficult for me, but it is. I can talk, joke, and even make women laugh without issue, but past that things become rough.
I spent the entire semester sitting one seat behind and one seat to the right of this woman. I studied how she moved, thought, interacted, and learned. She was amazing. Near the end of the semester I overheard she was holding a presentation for her other major, dance, during some national conference held at the campus. I decided to go and try to understand something she loves and then ask her out afterward. After waiting a couple weeks for the day to come I followed through with the first half of my plan. I saw her nervously, but confidently, give her presentation and then give us a several minute long example of the dance type. Even with all of my apathy and callous emotions I still think it to be one of the most beautiful sights I have beheld.
After the presentation I waited outside of the room for her. During this time a few people were talking next to me about random things. Slowly their conversation began to shift to the woman of my affection. They began to talk about how they were friends, and how she was gorgeous. Finally one of them mentioned that she had a boyfriend and then pointed down the hallway as he finally arrived. For a moment I simply stood there and thought. I knew this to be a likely possibility. I figure any woman I am attracted to in that magnitude must be engaged in some relationship. Even with this understanding it came as a shock. I slowly stood up straight, replaced my non-shaded lenses with my shades, straightened them, and walked calmly down the hallway and out of the building. I recall it being a bright, sunny, and hot day. I recall feeling nothing for many days afterward.
These type of situations stick in my mind for months. They dig into me like needles and infect any associated memory with greater darkness. Personal failures never fade easily, if ever. In certain situations, this being one of them, it hurts enough for me to blow an emotional "fuse", and I am incapable of feeling emotions until it mends. After the hole heals there is a little less of me left and a little more scar tissue.
Yet I am still here and still trying to find someone. Scar tissue and all. Often I still feel like I am still standing in the hallway and waiting for that amazing woman to emerge, but I still try. I still fail. All I need is for one attempt to succeed. Just once.
In my statistics class I sat behind a woman that I was entirely infatuated with. She was beautiful and smart and nice and sweet. Enough so that all of my defenses started to collapse, and I decided to attempt to ask her out. This may not seem like a difficult thing, but to me it is beyond monumental. I do not know why such a simple and common action can be so exceptionally difficult for me, but it is. I can talk, joke, and even make women laugh without issue, but past that things become rough.
I spent the entire semester sitting one seat behind and one seat to the right of this woman. I studied how she moved, thought, interacted, and learned. She was amazing. Near the end of the semester I overheard she was holding a presentation for her other major, dance, during some national conference held at the campus. I decided to go and try to understand something she loves and then ask her out afterward. After waiting a couple weeks for the day to come I followed through with the first half of my plan. I saw her nervously, but confidently, give her presentation and then give us a several minute long example of the dance type. Even with all of my apathy and callous emotions I still think it to be one of the most beautiful sights I have beheld.
After the presentation I waited outside of the room for her. During this time a few people were talking next to me about random things. Slowly their conversation began to shift to the woman of my affection. They began to talk about how they were friends, and how she was gorgeous. Finally one of them mentioned that she had a boyfriend and then pointed down the hallway as he finally arrived. For a moment I simply stood there and thought. I knew this to be a likely possibility. I figure any woman I am attracted to in that magnitude must be engaged in some relationship. Even with this understanding it came as a shock. I slowly stood up straight, replaced my non-shaded lenses with my shades, straightened them, and walked calmly down the hallway and out of the building. I recall it being a bright, sunny, and hot day. I recall feeling nothing for many days afterward.
These type of situations stick in my mind for months. They dig into me like needles and infect any associated memory with greater darkness. Personal failures never fade easily, if ever. In certain situations, this being one of them, it hurts enough for me to blow an emotional "fuse", and I am incapable of feeling emotions until it mends. After the hole heals there is a little less of me left and a little more scar tissue.
Yet I am still here and still trying to find someone. Scar tissue and all. Often I still feel like I am still standing in the hallway and waiting for that amazing woman to emerge, but I still try. I still fail. All I need is for one attempt to succeed. Just once.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Casualties of "The Pursuit"
Depression is seen as something to be annihilated. Society teaches us that if we are not happy, then something is terribly wrong. I believe, though, that happiness is not a likely state. In fact, it is an unstable equilibrium. Imagine happiness is being on top of a very tall, very steep mountain. A wrong step and you go tumbling down. Depression, on the other hand is the bottom of a deep valley. It is hard to climb out, but the equilibrium is rock steady.
There is no denying that depression can be a very bad thing. It is painful, lonely, and can be highly physically dangerous. I do wonder, though, if depressions more dangerous side effects are amplified by societies need for happiness. I have long called the need for happiness "The Pursuit" (if it is not obvious this is from the quote "Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" in the US Declaration). Not only do depressed people have to deal with the madness that haunts them, but they are forced to feel more like an outsider. Society does not want them. Depression is like being emotionally homeless. People just pass you by.
Another funny trait about being depressed: most of us feel utterly alone in our depression. We feel like nobody else can understand. Obviously this is a ludicrous assumption. Still it remains firmly embedded. My family consists of 4 people. Of those 4 at least 3 of us have depression. Yet, none of us talk about it. We prefer to burn individually. For me, I justify the individuality by saying I am protecting them. They do not need any more burden, and I prefer to keep it from them. Maybe that is how most depressed people feel.
I suppose the whole point of this post is simply to ponder the nature of The Pursuit and its effects on depressed individuals. I have first hand experience in this situation, so the topic interests me. All around me I see people around my age desperately seeking happiness in any of its forms. To me, it seems like an extreme waste of energy. So much time is wasted drinking, playing, and chasing an ephemeral idea that will inevitably flee from your grasp.
The casualties of The Pursuit are two fold: people like me, and the ones still in the race. Nobody wins.
There is no denying that depression can be a very bad thing. It is painful, lonely, and can be highly physically dangerous. I do wonder, though, if depressions more dangerous side effects are amplified by societies need for happiness. I have long called the need for happiness "The Pursuit" (if it is not obvious this is from the quote "Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness" in the US Declaration). Not only do depressed people have to deal with the madness that haunts them, but they are forced to feel more like an outsider. Society does not want them. Depression is like being emotionally homeless. People just pass you by.
Another funny trait about being depressed: most of us feel utterly alone in our depression. We feel like nobody else can understand. Obviously this is a ludicrous assumption. Still it remains firmly embedded. My family consists of 4 people. Of those 4 at least 3 of us have depression. Yet, none of us talk about it. We prefer to burn individually. For me, I justify the individuality by saying I am protecting them. They do not need any more burden, and I prefer to keep it from them. Maybe that is how most depressed people feel.
I suppose the whole point of this post is simply to ponder the nature of The Pursuit and its effects on depressed individuals. I have first hand experience in this situation, so the topic interests me. All around me I see people around my age desperately seeking happiness in any of its forms. To me, it seems like an extreme waste of energy. So much time is wasted drinking, playing, and chasing an ephemeral idea that will inevitably flee from your grasp.
The casualties of The Pursuit are two fold: people like me, and the ones still in the race. Nobody wins.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
The Tattoo
I have been debating on getting my first tattoo. Being a gamer there is only one tattoo I want. The wrist chains from Bioshock.
Image of the actual tattoo (undecided on A or B):
The consensus is that it matches my personality well. It is nerdy, easy to conceal, and it's a chain. Wait... I can't exactly remember why it matches me. But I like it. I think it's cool. Damn anyone else who cares. Still, I have some apprehension on getting a tattoo, let alone my first in such a visible area. When I go to job interviews I will have to cover them up. Long sleeves will suffice. Maybe a set of watches.
While talking with my brother about getting the tat (I probably just invented that slang) our conversation spiraled into silliness, as it usually does. I decided that getting my first tattoo is only 1 of a 2 stage plan. Stage 2: get a bullet bandoleer tattooed on my leg or around my torso. This would allow me many options in the adult film industry later. Gotta keep my options open.
A man chooses. A slave obeys. A nerd possibly gets a nerd tattoo.
The consensus is that it matches my personality well. It is nerdy, easy to conceal, and it's a chain. Wait... I can't exactly remember why it matches me. But I like it. I think it's cool. Damn anyone else who cares. Still, I have some apprehension on getting a tattoo, let alone my first in such a visible area. When I go to job interviews I will have to cover them up. Long sleeves will suffice. Maybe a set of watches.
While talking with my brother about getting the tat (I probably just invented that slang) our conversation spiraled into silliness, as it usually does. I decided that getting my first tattoo is only 1 of a 2 stage plan. Stage 2: get a bullet bandoleer tattooed on my leg or around my torso. This would allow me many options in the adult film industry later. Gotta keep my options open.
A man chooses. A slave obeys. A nerd possibly gets a nerd tattoo.
Monday, July 19, 2010
The Force Of Attraction
I have been contemplating a great number of things recently. Among them has been the nature of attraction between two people. My scientific mind first conjures up memories of gravitational movement equations. I suppose the word "attraction" triggers that thought. What force draws two people together? What force allows the bond to remain? The amount of lurking variables in these queries are infinite and thus impossible to fully understand. Still, I try to make sense of the chaos. Let us try to tackle these two questions independently and view a few specific sections of the impossible questions.
What force draws two people together? To me, the best place to start looking at this question is at the first moment of attraction. Just like in physics, two objects will remain traveling as-is until acted on by an outside force. For humans, this most often by sight. We see someone and are either attracted or repelled from them. Note that this force is frequently not strong enough to cause any actual usable attraction. We see plenty of people every day we find beautiful, but we take no action. No, I believe that sight may be the first step in generation enough momentum, but it is not strong enough by itself.
The force of attraction must be compounded with other elements. After sight we often notice how the person sounds, acts, and smells. While they may not all be pleasant at first, the force required only has to be enough to propel both bodies towards each other. This is, unfortunately, harder to achieve than it should be. For the sake of simplification, let us call this required force the "Event Horizon" of attraction. This event horizon cannot be defined the same way as a black hole. In our case the "EH" of two people simply means that after the first meeting they want more of each other. Every meeting after that will then have its own EH. Using this definition we see that to be attracted over the long term requires a certain momentum that propels the parties through to the next EH. To me this feels like a linear magnetic accelerator.
The ball is the attraction between the two people and the magnets signify the EH between each meeting. With a magnetic accelerator we see that each ball moves faster when hitting each magnet. Again, this is not the case with romance. In romance the ball(attraction) randomly changes speeds and even reverses course for no reason. We can only hope that, in the end, the force was enough to make a bond.
At some point the event horizon / magnetic accelerator metaphor breaks down. We must then move on into a more stable and less chaotic model. When I think of a working long term relationship I think of two binary orbiting bodies.
The relationship is the velocity vector between the two bodies. As you can see the force between them is not equal. In real life, this makes sense. One person often has a little more pull, or power, in a relationship. The metaphor goes deeper. Just like the video, relationships have their fast and slow times. They ebb and flow. None of this really addresses the posed question. Let's get back to that.
What force allows the relationship bond to remain? In the same way that attraction was additive, so is the bond force. To hold a couple together requires a massive multitude of little things all adding up to enough strength to keep each person orbiting the other. With all the tiny interactions and forces flying about, chaos is rampant. To hold the two bodies together requires a reduction of chaos over time, and thus increasing stability over time. I think that is key. For two people to stay together their orbits must relax to a point where neither of the masses have to work at cycling each other.
Sometimes a much more massive body flies by and rips one or both of the masses apart. Newton, the bastard, loves to point out that sometimes things are outside our own control. Sometimes there is an external force greater than ourselves. No matter how hard we try someone can be ripped from us as easily as scissors through paper.
All we can do is try. Try to find the attraction force. Try to find the bonding force. Try to find that other body to orbit.
What force draws two people together? To me, the best place to start looking at this question is at the first moment of attraction. Just like in physics, two objects will remain traveling as-is until acted on by an outside force. For humans, this most often by sight. We see someone and are either attracted or repelled from them. Note that this force is frequently not strong enough to cause any actual usable attraction. We see plenty of people every day we find beautiful, but we take no action. No, I believe that sight may be the first step in generation enough momentum, but it is not strong enough by itself.
The force of attraction must be compounded with other elements. After sight we often notice how the person sounds, acts, and smells. While they may not all be pleasant at first, the force required only has to be enough to propel both bodies towards each other. This is, unfortunately, harder to achieve than it should be. For the sake of simplification, let us call this required force the "Event Horizon" of attraction. This event horizon cannot be defined the same way as a black hole. In our case the "EH" of two people simply means that after the first meeting they want more of each other. Every meeting after that will then have its own EH. Using this definition we see that to be attracted over the long term requires a certain momentum that propels the parties through to the next EH. To me this feels like a linear magnetic accelerator.
The ball is the attraction between the two people and the magnets signify the EH between each meeting. With a magnetic accelerator we see that each ball moves faster when hitting each magnet. Again, this is not the case with romance. In romance the ball(attraction) randomly changes speeds and even reverses course for no reason. We can only hope that, in the end, the force was enough to make a bond.
At some point the event horizon / magnetic accelerator metaphor breaks down. We must then move on into a more stable and less chaotic model. When I think of a working long term relationship I think of two binary orbiting bodies.
The relationship is the velocity vector between the two bodies. As you can see the force between them is not equal. In real life, this makes sense. One person often has a little more pull, or power, in a relationship. The metaphor goes deeper. Just like the video, relationships have their fast and slow times. They ebb and flow. None of this really addresses the posed question. Let's get back to that.
What force allows the relationship bond to remain? In the same way that attraction was additive, so is the bond force. To hold a couple together requires a massive multitude of little things all adding up to enough strength to keep each person orbiting the other. With all the tiny interactions and forces flying about, chaos is rampant. To hold the two bodies together requires a reduction of chaos over time, and thus increasing stability over time. I think that is key. For two people to stay together their orbits must relax to a point where neither of the masses have to work at cycling each other.
Sometimes a much more massive body flies by and rips one or both of the masses apart. Newton, the bastard, loves to point out that sometimes things are outside our own control. Sometimes there is an external force greater than ourselves. No matter how hard we try someone can be ripped from us as easily as scissors through paper.
All we can do is try. Try to find the attraction force. Try to find the bonding force. Try to find that other body to orbit.
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