Learning | Experience (#6)

It has been a rough week.

It has also been an interesting one. It seems as if I’ve spent the last many days doing one of three things: Writing, gaming, or talking with Susan. Undoubtedly, each of these is pleasurable, the recipient of hours of attention and interest. Sometimes, it’s the spaces in between that I struggle with the most. Other times, it’s the borders, the intersections between one world and the next, that I can’t reconcile.

(For most of January, you’ll be able to add "working" to the list, as I’m about to start another marathon stretch interspersed with a minimum of off days.)

Writing is both a fascinating and frustrating pastime.

The fascination comes from expression, from the liberty of exploration.  While I often reflect on the paint splatters within the harshly drawn lines of my life, I don’t enjoy the reminiscence as much as the establishing of where I am at the moment. My life as a series of declaratives and contrasts: I am here, I was there, I feel this, I felt that, I want this, I no longer want that. Perhaps that’s where the greatest struggle always will be, for me. I am always very conscious of what I desire, and what could be, and it took me many years to step outside of the immediate and say, "This is what I want ten years from now." I’ve mentioned this in the last couple of reflections, as it’s really become quite a pervasive attitude. Perhaps it’s simply due to growing older, but post-Barrett I realized life is too short to squander, whether in an unfulfilling relationship or an unmotivated career path.

While this is good news for my aspirations as a librarian, I suspect it will probably make my dating life more difficult, rather than easier, because shit, if I don’t see myself with a person for a very long time, what’s the point? I don’t want flings, I don’t want "almost good enough", I don’t want to fix anyone or mold anyone to make up for some trait they lack or possess.

The peculiar thing is that I actually think I can find happiness. By sheer strength of will, I will not fucking settle. It took me a fair amount of time to recognize the value of simply having a stable long-term relationship that eventually ended. I accept that, but I’m not terribly interested in giving my next relationship a few years and then having to start over yet again. So, technically, I guess I want to settle–but to make stable; place in a permanent position or on a permanent basis, perhaps even to gather, collect, or become fixed in a particular place, direction, etc., and definitely to quiet, calm, or bring to rest (the nerves, stomach, etc.), rather than merely to be satisfied with or to become established in or to cause to sink down gradually.

Frustration comes from the inherent paradox of privacy and self-expression. By definition, when you write a diary, it is a daily record, usually private, esp. of the writer’s own experiences, observations, feelings, attitudes, etc. You’re throwing your doors open and inviting people into your inner sanctum. In reality, it’s an illusion. There are words I may not write that are coiled tightly around my medial insula, virulent and insidious. I am fettered by consideration, guarded by awareness, locked in by fear. 

Such is the virtue of strangers and anonymity, of people who are merely words on a screen. I can say what I want and leave when I wish. I can tell you what a wonderful or horrible person I am, I can glorify myself ad nauseum, I can manipulate half-truths and falsehoods–and the direction of our respective lives isn’t altered one iota. There’s great comfort in that.

A diary is not the place you say what cannot be said; it’s the place you say what you don’t mind saying.

Only in the stronghold of our emotions is it safe to be your most hopeful, broken, zealous, desperate, obsessive, indecent. Everyone reading this has thoughts in their heart they’re afraid to tell anyone, or unwilling to admit even to themselves, and sometimes it gives me pause to think of how much human relations are founded on assumption, which is not merely something taken for granted; a supposition, but also the act of taking possession of something. It might be nice that others don’t know what you really think of them, and you might congratulate yourself on that. What about the converse? What do people in your life think about you?

Good question. Throughout my life, I’ve been overly concerned with what other people thought of me. I consider myself fairly proficient wielding charm and spin (Slang. to cause to have a particular bias; influence in a certain direction), though at times I’ve been perceived as glib (readily fluent, often thoughtlessly, superficially, or insincerely so) or even devious.

Few things hurt me so much as doubting my sincerity.

In my own experiences attempting to glean the musings of others, I’ve alternated startling accuracy with drastic misestimation.  I’m certainly guilty (along with most of humanity) of getting into trouble via overanalysis.  Studies of intuition indicate it’s usually both faster and more accurate than the classic rational approach–not only in moral judgments, but also for performance in tests and games. We should all listen to our gut feelings, our immediate comprehensions.

Unless they reflect poorly on me, of course.

I work hard to avoid that, because…

6. I am an idealist and a perfectionist.

Those who don’t know me well might be surprised by this one. I’m commonly praised for being a realist, a person who tends to view or represent things as they really are. I am grounded, competent, consistent, and reliable. Idealism is often portrayed as one of two extremes; fierce zealotry, or naiveté. There is no doubt I possess elements of both, as I am quite fervent in my desires. My emotions and beliefs issue forth in a torrent, perpendicular to my usual droll wryness. I’ve said I’m something of a preacher, and that I am, amen. If you’re one of the few that’s heard me espouse my thoughts on any number of topics, I should probably apologize.

I want to inspire people. I want to empower people. I want people to listen to my words and be moved. I want them to become better than they are. I want them to stop settling in their job, their relationship, their hobbies, their dreams. I want them to reach for something glorious.

It bears mentioning that a trait I dislike is fickleness. Now that I’m finally talking about my ex, I don’t mind sharing that it was her changeable thoughts and beliefs were at times deplorable to me. In retrospect, I should have realized that after witnessing her capricious nature, it would eventually be directed toward our relationship. Here was my naïve idealism, feeling I was somehow immune.

Iam grounded in conviction and sincerity. My beliefs have changed or evolved, but I have never been one to rewrite history so that the prior belief was eradicated completely. I have no problem stating what I was. Conversely, she could wake up one day believing the sky was blue. The next day, it was green, and it was never blue, she would angrily insist it was never blue, and become confused (occasionally indignant) if I would remind or show her that she had said it was blue. It’s as if she was a gas giant of emotional need, with no solid core to land on.

One day, she woke up, and I was green.

I have always striven to be self-directed, and self-motivated. Note this is different than the proactive/reactive dynamic. I certainly reacted to my life, and then took it up myself to become better, and to define my beliefs and enact them. I’m not the same person I was at 25, but I have a number of the same attitudes and beliefs. One that’s taken root and flourished is that I sincerely desire The Best.  To be, to have, to be, to have.

Perfectionism is the desire to apply ridiculously high standards to yourself. 
Idealism is, to an extent, the desire to apply those high standards to everyone else.

I suffer from both. I obsessively attempt to better myself. Many people want to be good. I consciously strive for it daily. I analyze my behavior, I modify it, I observe myself as it’s happening. I am simultaneously the driver and a passenger. I’ll lay in bed thinking about something I did or did not do, and attempt to reconcile it. I’ll correct myself constantly, giving myself nudges towards desired behavior.

For example, I may throw something at the trash can, and miss, say "feh", and start to walk away. Then I chastise myself for being lazy, feel guilty for even starting to go the other direction, and then walk back and make sure I clean up my mess completely.

I do this a lot. I’ll catch myself being indolent and force myself not to be. I have an intellectual cruise control, not in the sense that I’m never pressing on the gas, but that there’s a part of me that’s always making sure I’m driving at exactly a certain speed. At times I accelerate, at times I slow down. But I want to be at a certain level, and dammit, I’m going to be.

This is, I must admit, what makes me good at Everquest. I won’t glorify myself more than I have in my 3/29/07 entry here, but it’s a very obvious example of how I push myself to be better, stronger, faster, like Lee Majors minus the bionics or the large medical bill.

My competitive nature fuels my perfectionism. If I get beaten at something I can reasonably improve at, then I will dedicate myself to doing so. Obviously, there are limitations in terms of talent (e.g., I will never be a better mechanic or engineer than my brother or father), but in general, watch out. I take joy in dominance, not only in being the best, but admittedly the praise that comes from being so. Still, let’s be clear–my motivation is excellence first, recognition second. I never set out to have people tell me I was the best Everquest MA they ever played with. It didn’t enter my mind at all. No, I just constantly pushed myself to excel, and the result was that they noticed–and I’m very proud that it’s acknowledged. I exhaust myself in pursuit of perfection.

Gaming is probably the most obvious exhibition of it, but it applies to other things as well. My writing, for example, which often takes me forever. I type extremely fast, but I write extremely slow. This paragraph might take me five attempts across two days. I will write it, rewrite it, ponder it some more. I’ll push it to the bottom and consider removing it. I’ll analyze how it sounds and make sure it creates the image I wish. I know I’m a good writer, and I don’t think it’s necessarily because I have some obscene amount of talent–it’s because I really work at it, because I *care* about the final product. I’m well aware of my missteps, and I’ve kept the ones that I think add uniqueness or flavor and steadily eliminated the ones that don’t fit with what I want to be.

The more attentive among you will see very clearly how this relates to my fear of criticism in #1.

I want to be the best, and moreso, I *want* the best.

I think that’s why I’ve always been so aggressive in the pursuit of love, despite the rejection, despite the slings and arrows. It’s why I have something of the martyr in me. I look around and I see so many women with men who have no drive to excel as a person, who not only don’t want to make a positive impact on the world around them, but barely make an impact at all. Idealistically, I feel that in addition to my striving to be the best, that women should want a man who does. My intensity should be attractive, when in reality I fear it may simply make people wary (and, conscious of this, I may dial things back a bit, but it’s always there, latent.)

You should want someone who strives, who is self-conscious enough to make the world stop and notice.

Someone who is a corner piece.

Thus the heartbreak when they choose someone else. Thus my struggles with comprehension. Thus my loneliness.  I definitely have a bit of egoism in me, but it’s primarily because I look at myself and see how far I’ve come. I know what I’ve gone through, and how I learned from my mistakes to become the man I am.  Throughout my 20’s and 30’s, I strove, constantly looking for affirmation: I’m cool. Right?

I would feed on the positive reinforcement about who I am. My inherent contradiction is that so many of my positive traits are other-centered, and I invested myself in other people precisely to receive the adoration I sought, the praise. They determined my self-worth, and I decided I needed to be perfect to achieve it. 

Now, it’s just:  I’m cool.

I am passionate, devoted, motivated, loyal, caring, dynamic, funny, moderately handsome, and inspired. I believe in the right things rather than the popular things, and would rather be a killjoy than a lemming. I’m forthright, honest, and bold. I take responsibility for my actions, I give people the benefit of the doubt. I’m a caretaker who nurtures and empowers whenever I can. I encourage and I plan. I challenge people to get better but I help them take the steps to get there. I advocate morality over self-interest even when it works against me. I tell interesting stories, I take chances emotionally, I’m not afraid of commitment, and I can cook Vodka Chicken Florentine like nobody’s business. I clean. I dress according to the situation and look nice the vast majority of the time. I take care of my body and my mind. I am generous, kind, charming, and creative. I never ask people to do things I can’t do myself. I strive for fairness, I always seek to give more than I take, and I am consummately there for people when they need me.

And I’m single.

Because I only want the best–and the best is invariably taken–it seems sometimes like I’ll be that way for a very long time.  On the outside lookingin.

I don’t know why everyone else isn’t as motivated towards The Best. Few things frustrate me like willful ignorance, or willful mediocrity. I don’t understand why people don’t exert oneself vigorously  or contend in opposition, battle, or any conflict; compete. I try to empower people, but more, I expect them to empower themselves. My greatest frustrations come from people who are unable to grasp certain concepts or things explained to them. It’s not because I think I’m brilliant–it’s because I hold everyone to the same standards, and I fully believe that if I can work at something and comprehend it, that they can as well. It just takes effort.

This is also idealism, and a perversion of #1, because while it’s easy for me to say, "I’m not talented enough to succeed at this", and to blame it on my own inadequacies, I superordinate others and say, "But YOU should be able to do so." The very fact that I grew up expecting everyone to either be equal to or surpass my skills really says a lot.  I didn’t realize how strong this was until this year, when I finally began to see what really separated me from the crowd, what I did and could do that others simply can not.

I’ll keep trying to be better. Previously, I always thought I wasn’t good enough.

Now, I’ve realized that I am.