In class of late we have been discussing life events and the impact they have on our life. A life event such as a promotion or bereavement can have a significant effect on us. In this post, I'd like to examine a life event which did not change me.
Several years ago, when I was still a Boy Scout, I had arranged to go on a hiking trip with my troop to Philmont, New Mexico. The trip would be over the course of two weeks and we would be hiking around a hundred miles. I had never been one for camping trips, and I certainly wasn't one for it then. Yet feeling as though I couldn't say no, I went on it.
The work was grueling. We carried 50+ pound bags on our backs hiking up and down steep terrain, from hard rocks to rain-slick slopes. The days were exhausting, and sleep was a welcome reprieve. Along with the blazing insect-filled sun, one day heavy rains came in, turning the trail to a torrent. And we had to set up camp in that weather. Needless to say, sleep was a VERY welcome reprieve that night. We ate mostly freeze-dried foods and campfire cookings. For the majority of the trip I was with only the members of my troop, and no one else.
It seemed to produce a change in me. It's hard to describe now, but at the time I felt stronger, more independent. At home I would slack off a lot. As I went through the grueling hikes I became inspired to work harder, as hard as I worked on the trail. I made plans for when I got home, to spend hours in the library, start searching for jobs, write way more than I was. I had it all planned out. It felt like when I got home, things would be really different.
And then, two days after I came back, things were as they were beforehand. I was back to the same habits and the same slacking as before I had left. And I felt no compunction to go on another hike (and still don't).
I was gone for two weeks. The environment was a radical shift from what I was familiar with. Yet that was not enough. The time was too short, and it was too easy for me to slip back into my old routines. Perhaps if I were in such an environment longer, quite a bit longer, things might have changed. I might have formed habits that would have stayed with me longer than two days. Yet in the end, that hiking trip was only an adaptation to an unfamiliar circumstance. Once the circumstances normalized, I no longer had a need to adapt, and so I didn't change.
Saturday, February 22, 2014
Saturday, February 15, 2014
2/15/14 Social Media Made Me Who I Am
In our last class, there was much discussion about the impact of social media and instant-gratification communication. Concerns were raised that it cheapens relationships, encourages narcissism, and leads to further social stratification as groups isolate themselves more and more from others. While my opinion is that there is truth to both the positive and negative of these statements, in class I found myself reacting very negatively and angrily to these statements, likely because of my own personal stake in the matter.
I have Asperger's Syndrome. Among the many symptoms of Asperger's syndrome, the most dominant is a difficulty acting with other people. Of that difficulty is because of atypical behavior, inability or difficulty in reading social cues, or simply a fear or reluctance to socialize. I had components of all of these things, but the point where they affected me most deeply was in High School. I attended a strongly conservative catholic high school. The students were inexperienced with opinions beside their own, and so they held their own opinions strongly, stubbornly, for in their view anyone who did not hold their views was blatantly wrong.
I was that person who did not hold their opinions. I was branded "The Liberal", and any time I spoke up, as I often did, I was met with heavy resistance. Consequent of that, and of the general clique-ish nature of the school, I did not get along with others, and felt isolated from my fellow students, and isolated in general. I often struggled to find people to eat lunch with, often eating with teachers as much as anyone else. I cannot summarize the extent of the isolation I felt in a concise blog post, but rest assured it was intense, and tremendously demoralizing. I had few friends, little to look forward to, and indeed much to look at with trepidation. I was a pariah.
Around the same time that I came into High School, I became part of a forum, and alongside that forum a group on Facebook. These were people I could relate with, far better than I could at my school. And they were not only of my own age, but of many ages, many ethnicities, many nationalities and backgrounds. My friends were from Canada to New Zealand, teenagers to people in their 20s, 30s, even forties. I knew parents and college students and athiests and pagans and gay and transgender people alike. We were vastly different, but we were all united by this same forum, this same localized space on the internet. Many of us were also experienced with being social outcasts.
These people helped me more than any friend I knew in school ever did. I bonded with them over shared interests, I was given a lens into their lives and them into mine. When I struggled, I could turn to them for help. When I suffered from depressive episodes, I went to them for advice, and their advice was useful, empathetic--these were people who suffered as I had suffered, who dealt with problems like I had, and came out the stronger and capable of sharing what they learned with me.
To be honest, I think they saved my life. With my isolation in High School came severe depression. In my senior year I had three instances of self-harm, all three of which I remember distinctly. I missed more and more days of school, and became increasingly overwhelmed with school work. It was through their advice that I was able to bear the problems in my life. It was through their advice that I would call the suicide hotline and get help with my issues before they became more serious. It was through their advice that I knew that they valued and cared for me. Had I not had those online connections, I would have been well and truly alone. I would have had few people to seek advice from, and fewer people I could consider friends. There are times where I wonder if I would have killed myself had I not had the support of my online friends.
Christ. I can still remember those messages I got, how, when I doubted my own abilities, they told me I was sweet and intelligent and funny. Many times I receive compliments and dismiss them out of hand, believing the persons simply trying to make me feel better. But these people, they didn't have any reason to lie to me. More than that, many of them were adults, experienced and mature people, and they considered me valuable. It's emotional to think about it. I was a valued member of that community. I had a place of my own. These friends I continue to hold today, even as I speak more and more rarely with students from my High School.
It is perhaps because of the sufferings and struggles I dealt with as a teenager, and to some extent still struggle with as a young adult, that I sometimes feel angry at my peers. Their ignorance, their behavior, their petty concerns sometimes come to me as an insult, as though they choose to be ignorant of suffering like my own, and of suffering much worse. When I hear some of the complaints about social media, I hear complaints about people who are in that comfortable position where they can yearn for the good old days, the days that were so much misery to me.
Many of the people in my class likely will not know of such isolation and self-devaluation as I felt. They lead privileged lives, not merely in wealth and social status, but in their own abilities. They went through high school with friends that made school bearable, I did not. Many of them did not struggle with depression or other mental illnesses, I did. They do not understand what it feels to be so alone, so isolated, so impotent. I felt as though I were a freak, deficient and broken. It was that online community that made me feel like a whole person.
So yes, maybe social media has its problems, maybe it has its concerns. But I'd much rather have it than be without it.
I have Asperger's Syndrome. Among the many symptoms of Asperger's syndrome, the most dominant is a difficulty acting with other people. Of that difficulty is because of atypical behavior, inability or difficulty in reading social cues, or simply a fear or reluctance to socialize. I had components of all of these things, but the point where they affected me most deeply was in High School. I attended a strongly conservative catholic high school. The students were inexperienced with opinions beside their own, and so they held their own opinions strongly, stubbornly, for in their view anyone who did not hold their views was blatantly wrong.
I was that person who did not hold their opinions. I was branded "The Liberal", and any time I spoke up, as I often did, I was met with heavy resistance. Consequent of that, and of the general clique-ish nature of the school, I did not get along with others, and felt isolated from my fellow students, and isolated in general. I often struggled to find people to eat lunch with, often eating with teachers as much as anyone else. I cannot summarize the extent of the isolation I felt in a concise blog post, but rest assured it was intense, and tremendously demoralizing. I had few friends, little to look forward to, and indeed much to look at with trepidation. I was a pariah.
Around the same time that I came into High School, I became part of a forum, and alongside that forum a group on Facebook. These were people I could relate with, far better than I could at my school. And they were not only of my own age, but of many ages, many ethnicities, many nationalities and backgrounds. My friends were from Canada to New Zealand, teenagers to people in their 20s, 30s, even forties. I knew parents and college students and athiests and pagans and gay and transgender people alike. We were vastly different, but we were all united by this same forum, this same localized space on the internet. Many of us were also experienced with being social outcasts.
These people helped me more than any friend I knew in school ever did. I bonded with them over shared interests, I was given a lens into their lives and them into mine. When I struggled, I could turn to them for help. When I suffered from depressive episodes, I went to them for advice, and their advice was useful, empathetic--these were people who suffered as I had suffered, who dealt with problems like I had, and came out the stronger and capable of sharing what they learned with me.
To be honest, I think they saved my life. With my isolation in High School came severe depression. In my senior year I had three instances of self-harm, all three of which I remember distinctly. I missed more and more days of school, and became increasingly overwhelmed with school work. It was through their advice that I was able to bear the problems in my life. It was through their advice that I would call the suicide hotline and get help with my issues before they became more serious. It was through their advice that I knew that they valued and cared for me. Had I not had those online connections, I would have been well and truly alone. I would have had few people to seek advice from, and fewer people I could consider friends. There are times where I wonder if I would have killed myself had I not had the support of my online friends.
Christ. I can still remember those messages I got, how, when I doubted my own abilities, they told me I was sweet and intelligent and funny. Many times I receive compliments and dismiss them out of hand, believing the persons simply trying to make me feel better. But these people, they didn't have any reason to lie to me. More than that, many of them were adults, experienced and mature people, and they considered me valuable. It's emotional to think about it. I was a valued member of that community. I had a place of my own. These friends I continue to hold today, even as I speak more and more rarely with students from my High School.
It is perhaps because of the sufferings and struggles I dealt with as a teenager, and to some extent still struggle with as a young adult, that I sometimes feel angry at my peers. Their ignorance, their behavior, their petty concerns sometimes come to me as an insult, as though they choose to be ignorant of suffering like my own, and of suffering much worse. When I hear some of the complaints about social media, I hear complaints about people who are in that comfortable position where they can yearn for the good old days, the days that were so much misery to me.
Many of the people in my class likely will not know of such isolation and self-devaluation as I felt. They lead privileged lives, not merely in wealth and social status, but in their own abilities. They went through high school with friends that made school bearable, I did not. Many of them did not struggle with depression or other mental illnesses, I did. They do not understand what it feels to be so alone, so isolated, so impotent. I felt as though I were a freak, deficient and broken. It was that online community that made me feel like a whole person.
So yes, maybe social media has its problems, maybe it has its concerns. But I'd much rather have it than be without it.
Saturday, February 8, 2014
2/8/13: The Fear Of Being Normal
 |
| From "The Apartment", Billy Wilder 1960 |
Consider the above film, "The Apartment", directed by Billy Wilder. In it, the main character is a dulled everyman in an endless office full of dulled everymen. He works nine to five and even works extra hours some days. The only thing that separates him from the countless other office drones is that he's renting out his apartment to horny office executives, but that's another story.
 |
| From "The Matrix", Andy and Lana Wachowski 1999 |
Or maybe you're more of a Matrix person. In the first film, we're introduced to Neo as yet another dulled everymen in an endless office full of dulled everymen. The only thing that separates him from the countless other office drones is that he is the cyber-messiah destined to save humanity, but that's another story.
The point being, Hollywood doesn't hold the office job in very high esteem. And why would they? They've only ever worked as screenwriters and actors and directors. Them imagining what it's like to be office workers is the same as the rest of us trying to imagine what it's like to be garbagemen, filled with terror at the endless piles of repetitive shit (literal or metaphorical) that has to be sifted through day in and day out.
So consider this 2007 Job Satisfaction survey that says that shows 60.8% of Office Supervisors are "very satisfied" with their jobs, and that the same is true for 65.4% of Security and Financial Services salespersons.
Huh. Guess Hollywood lied to us.
-----
There's a pervasive fear of normality in our culture, and especially among twentysomethings. I don't know if Hollywood influenced the culture or if the culture influenced Hollywood or if it's a combination of both. Simply put, the old 50's ideal of living a routine lifestyle in a modest suburban home is considered practically nightmarish for some. Everyone wants to be unique, everyone wants to find their dream job, everyone wants to be a genius in their field, and being normal is the worst punishment one can imagine.
No one ever defines what exactly "normal" is, it's just the bogeyman in these stories. The cloud of half-formed images that seems so real and powerful in the framework of our minds. We may define it with various markers like "holding down an office job", but it's not like everyone who has an office job is the same person. Each of the people working those jobs has their own individual personality that brings joy to their friends and family. Sure, it may not come through in their jobs, but then neither has that been the case throughout human history. There's only so many ways you can shear corn before "expressing yourself" becomes "increasing the risk that we will die of starvation in the winter". Expressing ourselves creatively through our jobs is a luxury.
It's not like these jobs were invented out of thin air to antagonize us. They need to get done. Office jobs especially are extremely necessary. We need someone to wade through the mounds of paperwork and bureaucracy that keeps this global village of ours working, yet we routinely disparage them as living dreary, soul-sucking lives. Imagine how that must make office people feel, being the butt of an entire's societies fear of their jobs.
I think part of the reason we so often antagonize those jobs is because it makes us feel better about our own decisions in contrast. Take the numerous would-be actors, dancers, and directors in our school. The performing arts are notoriously flaky and unstable, and it's hard to dismiss the fears that our dream job is untenable, that we might be wasting money for a pipe dream. To protect ourselves from that, we convince ourselves that this job, even the pursuit of it, is better than the "soul-crushing" office job, the job that so often is much more stable than the ones we pursue.
More than that, though, I think Hollywood, again, has influenced us. We live in an era of celebrities, and where seemingly anyone can become one. Viral is a household term. Celebrities are routinely celebrated and live a life the rest of us wish we could have. One of beautiful people, beautiful homes, and happiness. It's the last thing that seems the stickler. We see actors and directors on the read carpet smiling towards the camera, always smiling, and we think that we can be like that.
Never mind that celebrities are often just as unhappy as we are. The sheer amount of drug-related deaths and suicides is testament to that. What matters is that they present themselves as happy, and the camera devours that. Celebrities exist to present an ideal which the rest of us strive to achieve. They can't achieve it, and neither can we, but that doesn't stop us from wanting it.
I think part of the reason we so often antagonize those jobs is because it makes us feel better about our own decisions in contrast. Take the numerous would-be actors, dancers, and directors in our school. The performing arts are notoriously flaky and unstable, and it's hard to dismiss the fears that our dream job is untenable, that we might be wasting money for a pipe dream. To protect ourselves from that, we convince ourselves that this job, even the pursuit of it, is better than the "soul-crushing" office job, the job that so often is much more stable than the ones we pursue.
More than that, though, I think Hollywood, again, has influenced us. We live in an era of celebrities, and where seemingly anyone can become one. Viral is a household term. Celebrities are routinely celebrated and live a life the rest of us wish we could have. One of beautiful people, beautiful homes, and happiness. It's the last thing that seems the stickler. We see actors and directors on the read carpet smiling towards the camera, always smiling, and we think that we can be like that.
Never mind that celebrities are often just as unhappy as we are. The sheer amount of drug-related deaths and suicides is testament to that. What matters is that they present themselves as happy, and the camera devours that. Celebrities exist to present an ideal which the rest of us strive to achieve. They can't achieve it, and neither can we, but that doesn't stop us from wanting it.
I'll use myself as an example. For the longest time I had dreams of myself being a famous writer. I envisioned myself having interviews with news people and talking about whatever I was writing. I dreamed of writing novels that get adapted to movies. Hell, sometimes I still dream of that stuff.
Yet thinking about it, what was I looking to get from being a famous writer? Contentment? Writing isn't exactly a low-stress job, especially the more you invest yourself in it. It doesn't guarantee financial stability, God knows it doesn't. But I wasn't thinking realistically, was I? I was thinking in terms of those beautiful ideals which the celebrity industry propagates, that we can all be fabulously successful and, through that success, find happiness.
Yet thinking about it, what was I looking to get from being a famous writer? Contentment? Writing isn't exactly a low-stress job, especially the more you invest yourself in it. It doesn't guarantee financial stability, God knows it doesn't. But I wasn't thinking realistically, was I? I was thinking in terms of those beautiful ideals which the celebrity industry propagates, that we can all be fabulously successful and, through that success, find happiness.
Well here I am, two years into Film School and wondering if I really want to keep doing this. Am I really not that special? Am I really not that unique?
I certainly am unique. We are all. The problem comes when I then use this uniqueness to assume that it makes me better than other people. Which I did. A lot. I think that's what brought me to Film School. For the longest time I was told of how talented I was, how I was destined for being a successful director or whatever. Yet so was everyone else here. They were told by friends and loved ones how awesome they were, how they were one-of-a-kind. So we all go to a University where we all believe themselves to be so much better than the rest of us, that we have something others don't.
What I have is a unique perspective, a unique background, a unique person. I can share and express those, maybe not through my work, but through living. Which I do every moment, no matter what job I have, no matter what house I have. I have value by being. And maybe that's enough.
What I have is a unique perspective, a unique background, a unique person. I can share and express those, maybe not through my work, but through living. Which I do every moment, no matter what job I have, no matter what house I have. I have value by being. And maybe that's enough.
Saturday, February 1, 2014
1/30/2014: What Makes An Adult?
What exactly makes one an adult? I ask myself if I'm an adult, and the first response that comes out of my head is no, I'm not an adult, I'm simply Max. Certainly by some standards I'm an adult, by other standards I might not be. Biologically speaking I'm considered more or less at adult development, and psychologically speaking I'd like to think I've matured, but other so-called indicators of adulthood I do not have. I am not self-sufficient, I do not have a full-time job, and I have never had sex. I am certainly working towards those things, but as yet I have not reached them.
For me, adulthood is an irrelevant concept. Certainly I feel more mature now than I have in prior years, but at what point do I cross the threshhold into becoming an adult? Can we quantify exactly what I need to do in order to be an adult? Asking whether or not I'm finally an adult seems to me the wrong way to approach things, as the concept of adulthood to me implies an end of growth. Youth is associated with growth and learning, while adulthood is associated more with applying what one has learned to the world, and for some, stagnation.
I think that is the wrong way to go about things. I think it makes more sense to view oneself as, in a sense both. Constantly growing and learning, and constantly applying that. When I look at my peers and my elders, it helps me to remind myself that though they may present themselves as mature and well-composed, the truth is they are most likely the same as I am. They have their anxieties, their vulnerabilities, their hopes and fears. In a sense they are still children, as I am.
Adulthood to me implies a certain sense of control. Over oneself, and over our immediate environment. If I go by that definition, then in truth I don't think we ever stop being children. We are always in a world far larger than us, more complex than we are aware, and full of unknowns we do not and may never know. We are always full of anxieties and uncertainties and a certain sense of smallness and a dependence on others around us. The only difference is that as children, there are people larger than us, more put together than us, authority figures to keep us safe. Yet adults do not have something like that, because death tends to end that maturation quite squarely. So certainly compared to children we are stronger, but who are we compared to forty- and fifty-year olds having their mid-life crises? And who are they compared to seventy- and eighty- year olds in the twilight of their years? If we become adults at 20, well what is the rest of that time?
If adulthood is anything, it's not a single threshold we pass and are done with. Rather, it is a constant bettering, towards more self-control, towards becoming more reasoned, more thoughtful, more empathetic people. It is a path towards acknowledging and accepting our limitations, and the limitations of others, and being able to make better choices with those limitations in mind. It'll never be perfect, though. The facade breaks, we make poor choices, we lose composure and control, and sometimes we throw what is essentially the same sort of tantrums we had as children, it only looks different. And of course, in time we will get older and die, and all of us are beggars there.
For me, adulthood is an irrelevant concept. Certainly I feel more mature now than I have in prior years, but at what point do I cross the threshhold into becoming an adult? Can we quantify exactly what I need to do in order to be an adult? Asking whether or not I'm finally an adult seems to me the wrong way to approach things, as the concept of adulthood to me implies an end of growth. Youth is associated with growth and learning, while adulthood is associated more with applying what one has learned to the world, and for some, stagnation.
I think that is the wrong way to go about things. I think it makes more sense to view oneself as, in a sense both. Constantly growing and learning, and constantly applying that. When I look at my peers and my elders, it helps me to remind myself that though they may present themselves as mature and well-composed, the truth is they are most likely the same as I am. They have their anxieties, their vulnerabilities, their hopes and fears. In a sense they are still children, as I am.
Adulthood to me implies a certain sense of control. Over oneself, and over our immediate environment. If I go by that definition, then in truth I don't think we ever stop being children. We are always in a world far larger than us, more complex than we are aware, and full of unknowns we do not and may never know. We are always full of anxieties and uncertainties and a certain sense of smallness and a dependence on others around us. The only difference is that as children, there are people larger than us, more put together than us, authority figures to keep us safe. Yet adults do not have something like that, because death tends to end that maturation quite squarely. So certainly compared to children we are stronger, but who are we compared to forty- and fifty-year olds having their mid-life crises? And who are they compared to seventy- and eighty- year olds in the twilight of their years? If we become adults at 20, well what is the rest of that time?
If adulthood is anything, it's not a single threshold we pass and are done with. Rather, it is a constant bettering, towards more self-control, towards becoming more reasoned, more thoughtful, more empathetic people. It is a path towards acknowledging and accepting our limitations, and the limitations of others, and being able to make better choices with those limitations in mind. It'll never be perfect, though. The facade breaks, we make poor choices, we lose composure and control, and sometimes we throw what is essentially the same sort of tantrums we had as children, it only looks different. And of course, in time we will get older and die, and all of us are beggars there.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)