Archives for January 2013

Holden Caufield was right – we’re all phonies. Whether you realize it or not, you probably lie. A lot.

According to studies of self-presentation, we typically act in ways that we want ourselves to be perceived by others, and not necessarily in accordance with the reality of our being. This type of behavior helps us get what we want, and through positive reinforcement, manipulation becomes very mainstream.

For example, maybe you have an upcoming job interview, and you’ve been out of work for a while, so to improve your outward disposition you get a slick haircut, splurge on new dress clothes, practice your best behavior, and do everything else in your power to trick the interviewer into thinking you’re the man (or woman) for the job.

When I describe it this way, it seems quite underhanded. Conniving, even. But it works.

Now, your typical day-to-day manipulation is not malicious by any means. A white lie never hurt anyone, right?

But I think in the long run repeated societal-deception can have a negative effect on our psyche. There becomes a disconnect between who we are and who we present to society. I think this can cause mental distress. (“Who am I?”)

I know I often catch myself saying one thing aloud, then instantaneously thinking in my head “Why did I say that? That’s not true!”

Overall I think it’s best to be as honest as possible, both with ourselves and with others. It takes practice to break away from bad habits and expose ourselves to backlash from our peers, but I have a lot of respect for those that are truthful and able to tell it like it is.

The next time you’re put in a tight spot and feel pressured to put on a show, try not to give the standard rigmarole, and instead, spit the truth. It might just work.

I was purposely ambiguous with this tweet about a week ago, to allow my pornbots followers to interpret it as they will, but want to elaborate because I think it makes for interesting discussion.

At face value, I am generally happier the less I know about the world. I purposely avoid as much news and media as I can because I often find myself distracted and dragged down by much of what goes down on planet earth these days.

When I’m able to tune out the white noise and instead hone in on what has the most meaning to me, I feel significantly more upbeat about life.

But another and more profound way to interpet my statement is this:

The less I think about what I know, the happier I am.

So this isn’t to say I don’t enjoy knowing or learning or trying new things. I do. I’m not a complete hermit.

But what it comes down to is putting myself in favorable positions to hit the ever so sweet state of flow.

In essence, I’m looking for opportunities to be so immersed in what I’m doing, that the activity and my actions become one. There becomes a lack of conscious thought during high level tasks, and it’s quite a blissful feeling.

For example, I like to ride my bicycle. Down really steep hills. Really fast. No hands.

This isn’t exactly a simple activity… a lot could go wrong. Maybe a rogue squirrel decides to camp out in my path. Maybe a car honks and spooks me. Maybe a gnat meets its untimely demise in my eye, temporarily impeding my vision.

If anything causes me to lose balance, I could fall and suffer some serious road rash (or worse injury). So this activity does require a certain knowledge about riding 2-wheeled vehicles down a steep incline.

The thing is I can’t really be thinking about balance and coordination as gravity is pulling me down the hill. If I were to be actively gauging my speed, angle, and trajectory, I’d be more likely to crash.

It’s almost a requirement for my conscious brain to shut off in order to perform this activity. It’s an experience more than anything.

And that’s the point I’m trying to make here. When I’m able to hit that sweet spot between challenge and skill, and I’m able to stop thinking so much, that’s when I feel the best.

juanalfonsodiaz

I have a problem. I only enjoy learning on a topical level. That is to say I only find things interesting when they have some immediate relevance to my everyday life. Once the subject matter begins to unravel beyond its most fundamental threads and then reveals a whole other interworking of cogs and connections, I’m out.

I first realized this while taking inorganic chemistry with Dr. Graham. When we got to molecular orbital theory (and molecular orbital diagrams in particular, not too dissimilar from the one pictured above, but more complex) I remember intently staring at the whiteboard full of dashes and lines and arrows and greek symbols and mental anguish and then suddenly yanking my brain back out from that “Suck Kut” of higher learning to come to the momentous epiphany that…

… I was sitting in an uncomfortable desk indoors. It was nice outside. I wanted to be outside. And an understanding of molecular orbitals wasn’t going to help me in the future unless I became a chemist.

(I didn’t want to become a chemist.)

That deep knowledge of electron interactions wasn’t going to expand my reality. It was going to create a new reality. An alternate reality. One, to me, that seemed so far disjointed from how I wanted to live my life. And that’s when I realized I didn’t really care to learn anything beyond what can have a direct impact on the way I think or act.

I have appreciation for the complexity of science and other subjects, but often see a lack of application. Maybe my professors never effectively parlayed the “real world” importance of their syllabi, or perhaps I am too close-minded.

On the surface this doesn’t seem like much of an issue. I have the values of a caveman. Whatever. However it’s also important to note that most well-paying professions are highly specialized. It’s the people who spend thousands of hours studying one niche subject that usually make the most money.

This leaves me a little worried about my future. What if I never find something that sparks my interest enough that I fall head-over-heels trying to learn as much about it as I can?

It’s a scary thought.