An illustration of Michael, in five parts.
I know that my intellect was inspired at Intrigo, while my soul was crushed soon after. I know that I then fought back with great strength, and that I’ve become something enriched with power, seldom understood. But with this power, I lack the emotional stability to cope properly. Of course that offsetting could in fact derive from the power’s very nature. But I doubt if so, completely. If I in-fact have a larger purpose, I often wonder if i’m even capable of delivery. I become so locked down by my internal dilemmas that I wonder how the friction I often impose isn’t more effectual.
Perhaps a cancelation of my effect occurs at my point of enlightenment. I become less of a variable in the system and instead a equalizer. A shared variable, providing a dependency to others. Or perhaps an empathy that allows the system to almost introspect, and perhaps recycle the stress; churning cortisol into a more compassionate response mechanism. If this is the case, are there others, that feel as much as I do? Are there others who struggle not, with a mental instability, but with an overwhelming perception.
In the past five years, I have interacted with a new breed, most commonly characterized as extreme personalities. And of this group, most have significant IQ. While I’ve felt more at home amongst a group that tends to understand my failures with their own insight, I often become significantly more lost amongst the varying intellects. Not lost in the information deficit shadowing each interaction, but instead more-so as to my purpose. I was given intellect but also a highly tuned emotional investigation engine. These two abilities seemingly don’t belong side by side. With such complex systems, the very nature of a person having heightened intellect and emotional insight, seems recursive. I derive meaning from feeling but then feel what that means and repeat. And suddenly, I am overwhelmed.
My vision; the things I see, greatly diverge from the norm. Systems are how my brain interprets what I see. The variables at play in a scene, the actors and props, they all function together. And while I immediately see a system, at first I lack enough information to provoke investigation. Identifying a scene’s emotional nature, the value of the relationships, and underlying motivations captivate my mind (to an overwhelming factor). And it’s when I engage with that system that really determines my emotional response. Too early, and I falter in the most grand way, while doing so too late leaves me less interested. I’m not sure how I’ve shifted so strongly into analysis or why, but in a relatively short time, my need has become incessant. Overriding in fact to what I thought were my baseline goals.
Generating insight by empirically emulating another’s perspective.
It’s about other peoples problems, without a fear for your own action. By attacking them, you loose the ability to truly see what is actually occurring.
In other words, empathy is something that helps us, as individuals understand the motivations behind others actions. It brings sense to the world. Recently I’ve taken notice of a flaw in a friend’s (empathetic) natures. She cares greatly for others, which stems from empathy but only on their affected feelings directly affected by her actions. I don’t think she steps into their shoes. Does this mix make her empathy a dangerous feature?
Nature is nature. We don’t question nature. We eat sugar and fat, and observe a rise in the more negative physiology. But logic is so clear. Yet when we act, out in the world, why is it so difficult for one to question themselves? So naturally we fight against our own action. Never do we be the underdog, more cautiously approaching the affect we inflict on the world.
Crimes, Conflict, and Struggle (oh my)
I struggle. Constantly fighting the will of others. People rarely try to get me, but I always try, with might, to grasp people. Understanding how people approach conflict is most important. And this proves valuable when they stress. But what about when I’m at the gates. People falter. They fall in fact into the state of argument, not hearing my issue but instead combatting their crime.
for a friend, coping with divorce.
Hows does it feel to fall?
The feeling is all you can feel.
You dwell on the way it steals,
leaving your insides so raw.
You give it time so things fade,
but then on some random day,
the pain comes awake,
then the pain suffocates.
Now at sea you feel,
all lost in a mess,
hurting from stern to keel,
and still wanting less.
The wind hammers you hard.
The rain drenches your soul.
Your wounds becoming scars,
their pain becoming old.
Steering on past,
and pointing on through.
You leave the past in the past.
So you can see yourself through.
The Water Problem
Journal Entry: #6,362
It’s hard being me, but i guess that is not really a good excuse for acting out. but it is hard.
I want to be better, to be more balanced and on top of my emotions. I just want to be normal. I want to feel less, be more happy. I want to be there for taylor, but I need to be sensitive to my needs. I have needs too. But I forget that I do. Maybe not forget, but disregard their importance, and end up in these moments, where that disregard has piled up into a huge, steaming pile of garbage. And it’s stench overwhelms me, making me hate, for a brief moment, everything I considered more important. But I can’t hold onto things long, so that hate passes; it converts into something uncomfortable, but tolerable.
I don’t want to lose taylor. I don’t want my life to be less full, and she makes it so complete. But then why can’t that be enough for me to justify…justify something…justify not saying everything i’m thinking. What am i even saying? talking about?
I am talking about the stupid arguments I spawn. I don’t know why they are necessary. Why do I tell Taylor…why don’t I tell Taylor…why can’t I make enough sense of those questions to just NOT do anything. If I leave her free of my inner conflict, mostly manufactured by me out of some hypothetical circumstance, then she might be more open to sharing. But she doesn’t share…enough. And that means I have less opportunity to share, which leaves me mostly sharing on my own…which means I have more to share…I am overwhelmed then, so when my emotional center overflows, I’m left grasping for something, and then I make sense of it?
But…that is stupid, because then I’m just justifying my inadequate ability to construct taller levies. But taller levies leave us..no make us naive. I build tall, but the waters are endless, they keep filling the pool. The water can reach whatever height it needs to, the levies can’t, well they can but it takes time and well I don’t have enough time. They are so tall now. Yesterday, a leak, a very very tiny leak from a little bit of laundry started pooling on the floor. And I traipsed around, knowing it was there, feeling it dampen my socks. I took off my socks and made sure to leap…step over the pool next time, but in the time since I first step in it, It became enormous second time round. I leapt, and made it, but barely. The fear, anxiety…anger that I felt, now seeing this enormous pool of water between me and her washed over me…but it’s a pool, not an ocean, so lets not jump to metaphoric waves just yet, that comes later. Anyway, I did become afraid of how this tiny act of taylor’s less focused mind left me so…how it unseated my calm.
So I left the pool and went back to the relative safety of the dreamatorium…knowing the levies were towering above the real issues. Today I would not get wet. Minutes turned into hours, and I had forgotten all this, I was happy in my distracted activities of organization. I had succeeded at two things. The obvious, far less important task of organizing, and the important task of becoming self ignorant to the oncoming flood. Which is why, when I opened the door, I was hit, wind knocked out by a wave, leaving me nipple deep in not a pool but a flood of water. In the distance, my levies towered over me, but from my perspective I was no longer sure which side I was on. Feeling like I had changed sides, being suddenly a drift in a lake and not stepping over a pool, I paddled towards them.
So tired, but stoked by fear, I swam, and when I reached the nearest levy, I climbed, until I reach the top. Looking down I saw water, lots and lots of water on both sides. It was confusing, because I was so sure for the past few whatevers that I had somehow ended up on the wet side of the levies, and now It looked like, perhaps, I had a lot of water on both sides…so what do I do? I close my eyes…and when I open them, what do I see?
I see a desert…no a beach, feeling the tide on the back of my feet, I turn my head around and see ocean. I take a deep breath, and the ocean air smells incredible, and I feel incredible. Could this be a dream, it has to, because a paragraph ago, I was atop a towering levy looking down at water. Maybe it doesn’t matter, I mean for now I feel wonderful, in fact I don’t even remember why I cared so much about all that water below me, I mean the sea filled water…the ocean air…the whole picture is intoxicating. If I just stay in this moment, I will…
And then the moment’s over; I’m up to my knees in water. I close my eyes, then open them…no beach. Try again, and still no beach. Fuck, i’m gonna drown. How long could I have been dreaming? And how does the tiniest leak fill a space the size of a small ocean? And then I ask myself the real question, how did I not just fix the leak when I first discovered it. How did I let it get to this…
And I’m back on the beach, but it’s a different beach, I can tell from the trees I see in the distance. They are so tall, so tall that they make me conscious of how small I am. Their shadows loom, and I don’t feel the small remnants of the waves washing on my heels, and I don’t smell that intoxicating smell, only the ocean can bring. There is just sand, and these trees and no water…which should bring some relief, since a paragraph ago, my subconscious was about to drown me, but now I feel heat. And it just keeps getting hotter, and the shadows, they get shorter, and now I need water. I just need a small amount, but there is none..I am so parched and there is no water. What sick joke is this?
I close my eyes, and I see water, I open them I see desert. So where the fuck … do I go? What do I do?
I’ll walk to the first tree, it’s alone, looking lonely too, off in the distance. Perhaps there I will find a place to go, so I walk. The steps come slowly at first, but then I’m there, at the tree, looking up and up at it’s tall grandeur. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I lean up against its hulking base. My head slumps and my eyes close, and I see Taylor. I see her smile because she sees me, I think it’s me at least…so I look around and see nothing else. She walks towards me and my heart fills with hope, but then she’s too close. Another few steps and she’ll walk right into me, but her pace doesn’t slow, and then she’s gone. I turn my head and see her continuing. All that happiness: dashed.
And then I’m back home, behind the levies, with a wet sock. I feel this overwhelming desire to go change that sock. So I take a step, a little bigger step than usual to avoid the little puddle, but I don’t change my sock, I fix the leak.
Panic & Other People’s People
My friendship with my best friends; an unsaid lecture.
There are times where I get flooded with this sudden panic. Feeling defeated in so many ways at once; like some terrible responsibility has come collecting. And then I stop myself and say, “well fuck.”
Its a people thing that’s getting to me I actually think. It’s me being so jealous of everyone else’s people. It’s me fueling a despair with their distraction.
No one needs me when their happy. And I do love a good, “being needed.”
Shaun, you (Victoria), Chris…. I just keep thinking back to being sick at a convenient time when no one needed me…. So no one had a reason to ask me about my day prior to their need. For Example… When you’re sick… Shaun gives you a bell and moves mountains for you. You deserve it. No argument.
But it does provide something of a gauge to see how vastly less I really matter. I could draw parallels to other friends, just as easily, but that’s not the point. Who knows what the point is, outside of me being sad at my besties uncompromising devotion to their soul mate. Is it wrong for me to expect more out of My friends because I’ve force-fed them my devotion..
YES! I’m very wrong to think that. I shouldn’t expect anything. But then again if I stop forcing myself upon much of my circle, my circle gets wider leaving me waiting casually in the center for an invite. Maybe that’s what I need to do. Cut the thread tethering me to everyone so at least I’m realistic.
I think back a lot to when I asked you if you think about me when I’m not around. I remember asking because I had a moment, two weekends ago, where I realized how much I think about you (and shaun). And then I had this thought about how our relationship, you and me, would be affected by distance, I remember saying to myself how “it wouldn’t be affected, it just probably wouldn’t be.” I think back to that so often but manage it with the idea that it’s all theory anyway. I also think about how it’s me always labeling things. I’ve never asked you how you grade our relationship. That in itself isn’t super fair. I just love you two so very much and it’s scary to think about how when things inevitably change, how removed we’d likely become.
Fear. Jealousy. Pain…
…but remember Portland therapist Michael…“Right”…“that wonderfully insightful man”, who convinced me that we had more control of our emotions than we’re led to believe. he would go so far to say that emotional control and a “Tiger Woods” like focus (aka Flow) could be achieved with the same discipline. Don’t know if I completely agree, but over the last six years, I have gained a modicum of success (over that control). He pushed me to be more rhetorical with my self assessments to discover if I was not being completely open (but not necessarily honest) with myself. And that relates to other People’s People how…I do not know, but you’re a journal, so it doesn’t have to.
A (manipulative) derivation on seduction
Can a man seduce a women honestly?
If I like a girl, and I know exactly what turns her on through some external resource, we both have an initial win.
Continuing to apply the same tactics with learned adjustments, stimulates emotion. Emotion increases the coefficient of betrayal which is quantified through affection.
Girl meets two guys (at a bar)
She immediately likes one more. Later explains her choice was initially clear based on appearance, but shifted to the other based on conversation.
Addressing those who are unaware versus those who are aware. (Polar,
absolute). If aware, value is a judgement on love & interest.
Behavior versus motivation.
Dave wants a mac, researches mac, friends advocate to buy mac, but
What would motivate that decision?
Monetary & privilege perhaps? Motivation can not be created, so methods of influence are engineered.
We engineer influence through trust. Trust is engineered through giving slightly more than what one expects.
People tend to associate generosity and trust. (i.e. givers are never liars).
Love is assessed through continuous measurements of affection. Affection is demonstrated through spend, advocacy/love is through their friend’s spend.
Concluding, we can seduce customers, and measure that seduction.