Monday, October 25, 2010

Fromm vs Frankl

Woah...my mind is all kinds of wired right now. Last night was half and half sleepless. There are a lot of hopes and emotions going into this week. Fear of failure and hopes for connection.

My most recent intellectual endeavor has been the discovery of Fromm, the psychologist and philosopher.

Fromm discusses Freud's failure to articulate the importance of sex in a way that was encompassing of the true nature of the experience. So far, Fromm said that we all quickly realize that death is quickly encroaching and will steal everyone away from us.

The anxiety that we feel in life is not of pain, but of loneliness and separateness. Love is the act of reaching out of yourself to really know another person. Such as a child deconstructs something by breaking it into pieces, so can love be destructive. It is an act of empowering connection because we demonstrate our vitality by love.

Lovemaking is the physical joining of two people in the ultimate attempt to overcome separateness which sometimes brings forth new life.

Charity is not an act of omission, but a demonstration of love. If someone views charity as sacrifice they are not loving and are not getting the fullness of the experience of giving.

"Love is the solution to the problem of human existence" --Fromm

Those are his thoughts.

I also watched a documentary about sexual intelligence and the pitfalls of modern perceptions regarding relationships.
Met a lot of cool people this weekend too. It was really random.

In digesting Fromm I think back toward Frankl, who wrote near the same time and said that the reason for all our motivation and psyche is meaning. This is a tough pair to reconcile. Some seek solitude for extended periods of time to overcome the separateness that they feel: they commune with a perceived "higher power" in an attempt to overcome the loneliness of death.

Frankl said that Freud was wrong because (after Frankl survived the holocost) he noticed a lot of his companions were comitting suicide because they had lost their families, work, and belongings. He attributed this to the fact that the meaning in their lives had been lost. It wasn't the fact that they didn't have anyone to talk to...they made plenty of companions in their hardships. However, the fact that there was no perceived purpose to their lives after they left the death camps caused them to lose their drive to live.

I wish I could post this on an open forum to discuss.

E.M. Forster would agree with Fromm. Dr. Lascar agrees with Frankl. We don't need people to be happy, but without people...things don't seem to have much meaning. At least in my perspective.

If anyone reads this please comment.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Garlic, Onions, and Potatoes

Waiting to work with someone in the library. I have been really productive today. For some reason I have been addicted to the show Pushing Daisies. It's a really feel-good series with 1-dimensional characters and honestly...it's depressing me a lot.

Thinking about the stir fry that I cooked tonight I remember all the past times that I have made the dish in great company. Memories can be beautiful torture at times, but I wouldn't trade them for anything. It takes me back to the barn, high school, and a time where I had a lot more veggies to choose from. Most of all, I remember people. Matt Clark, Kyle, KTD, and Josh would come over for stir fry occasionally...and it never was quite perfect.

I had a great one tonight with my roommate. Everything was perfect, although I could've used a bit of lamb in it. Maybe some hot sauce would have stimulated my gustatory cells just right. Although, underneath it I remembered what my mom always used to say: "Cooking is an expression of love"

Dad always used to make me a full breakfast in the morning. Eggs, french toast, fresh bacon, and soymilk. Sometimes I think that my deviation from his faith is betrayal. I feel pulled back at times. Free otherwise.

Specifically the smell of italian spices and onions makes me think of the tactile sensation of physical contact with someone. Sometimes I feel like I muse at this thought as though it is a goldfish...foreign and contained, isolated. It has its place in a realm of chemistry that I can't endure.

The perfect amount of salt is necessary for it as well. Too much and you feel heavy and your throat is miserable. Not enough and it's tough to swallow.

This is going to be a busy week. Archan is expecting a summary of a paper that I haven't read. I have been studying Spanish all day...and it seems like I never get the time to enjoy the small things.

Dinner was amazing. I am hungry already.

Wednesday, October 6, 2010

Path 2

I was torn between buying a car and a plane ticket to France this winter break. I talked to Appalacia last night and it resolved my decision.

Grandmother has been institutionalized for wanting to stop the processes involved in keeping herself alive.

With my grandmother I have always had a deep and meaningful bantering connection. It's hard to see it come to this. She made the mistake of her life when she married my grandfather, and her love (Royce, I believe) has always stuck by her...

It is sad seeing her in so much pain and with so many problems. She is spirited and compassionate. I understand that without the anticipation of something grand or anything of merit in this world she has lost her will to continue. In winter we always try to talk about the coming summer.

She has a bad clot in her hand.

I have always been terrible about saying goodbye. If I say it too soon, then she might want to go even more, if I say it too late than I'll never get the chance. I can live with the second. When I see her, I let her know I care. When she's gone, I know that she has what she wanted. Peace.

At the same time, the issue of someone living becoming dead to you is also disconcerting. After just a brief conversation with the woman from spring I realize how incompatable I am with the people I'm seeing. The sound of her voice reminds me of the connection that someone can have when the ideas line up but there is still mystery and a certain erotic exotic nature to the interaction. Strangers make better lovers than tired couples. Maybe this is why my parents are doing ok in such hard times. They aren't always together, dad goes out of town for long bouts and comes back to beads and pain. If he never left he would go crazy.

I wanted to go home this weekend, but I don't think that I can anymore. I got a student who is willing to sign me off on the rest of her hours and spend saturday with me talking about micro.

I should get to work now.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Motivation

2 years and 3 months ago I was watching her walk away; the emotions in my chest were so mixed. There was thorough delight at meeting her and utter chaos when I was thinking about letting that night slip away...trading 3 hours of sleep for a night together.
I wasn't even tired.
My suitcase had a stuck handle, and I tried to pretend this wasn't any issue as I strutted toward the terminal.

Terminal. That's what I thought it was. However, we have been emailing. The emails oscillate in frequency, but now are more rapid than before. I am planning a trip against my better judgment to visit her in France November 20th.

This might be a rash desire for that physical sensation of touch or the emotional intercourse of stimulating conversation. After my spring adventures with the tall Appalachian woman other things just can't measure up.

I went out with several girls this week. Monday night was amazing; the conversation was witty and there was a light feeling at the end of the night. Thursday was an excuse for a conversation with one-sided explanations of her dogs for a significant amount of time. I had known this girl before, but badly needed reminding of why she and I are completely incompatible.

There was another, unmemorable.

Friday was a mistake. Monday night's company got a 4 loko and started a shouting match with me...I didn't shout back at all. After that episode I'm probably not going to talk to her anymore.

Right now it is cold. Accompanying the temperature change is a natural decline in activity. I don't know the specifics of the endocrinology behind it...but I know how it feels to go into winter depressed.

I feel for my roommate, he lost someone close. That's really all I can say. It is rough not having him around for a full week, but I hope everything that needed to happen for him has happened.

Death is a rough thing.

Some things can be worse.

I emailed my grandfather this morning. At this point lying has become a numb habit for me. The wet plaster of my masquerade has since hardened and would be too painful to remove. I'm sure that the lies will suffocate me if I don't confront them eventually. I'm sure there is a time. I will know when it arrives.

In the meantime I am confronted with a dilemma: where do I allocate my resources? The trip to France is reckless and will exhaust my resources, time, and energy.

I think it would be worse if I don't go though.

Senior year has come with its share of disappointments and disillusionment. Overall I have a confident feeling that I have done everything possible in college to succeed. The gpa could always be higher, the parties could have been wilder, and I could have made a lot more friends; however, I feel like getting a sense of self independent of stereotypes is far more valuable than a false sense of identity.

As I type I realize that my fingers are going against the plaster on my face. Today after a short nap I realized that my loneliness stems from an incessant perceived need to lie. Human behavior is intricate, and can be difficult at times, but this is what I'm trying to understand.

This introspective writing is intended to help me understand myself. How do I act? What am I doing? Why am I not studying Spanish right now?

I am going to do everything in my power to, with caution, get to France. This includes going home this weekend. I'll hunt the rideboard right now.