Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Deconstruction

I've had the annoying tendency lately to deconstruct everything in my world. I pick it apart and figure out if it is really necessary, if it is real, if it is primal, if it is a worthwhile way to spend my life.

Deconstruction can be useful. We do so many things because they are mindless habits, or because society dictates that we should do them, or because our parents did them. Or because we are scared or obsessed or have nothing better to do.

I spent much of middle school and early high school reading comic books. Those are now frustrating memories for me. I'll always dig comics to some extent, and I still think Superman is a badass. But it's scary how much time I spent obsessing over comic books for reasons I was unaware of.

I wish I'd deconstructed more back then. I wish I'd said to myself, "Ben, it's one thing to dive into a particularly fun comic book. It's another thing to mindlessly buy new comics each week when you stopped liking most of them years ago. You worry about maintaining and cataloguing your collection, which is slightly obsessive-compulsive. You're also avoiding the challenges and rewards of the outside world by keeping your nose buried in comics - good strategy!"

I never once thought about why I was doing what I was doing.

It is important to like things for reasons you are concsious of, and to be aware of the impact your habits have on your life. I could have spent my early teenage years doing more interesting, social activities with tangible long-term benefits. I could have been in control of my interests, instead of the other way around.

Still, it's possible to go too far with deconstruction.

I spent last weekend at a family reunion, and I immediately began deconstructing: Family is an arbitrary concept. I don't even know most of these people. Our blood is the same - so what? Am I supposed to be loyal to people - to love them - simply because we're related? How close are we if I see them once every few years? We're all just wasting our time. Everyone here is brainwashed except me.

You can make a coherent argument in most of these directions. I used to blindly believe in loving one's mother, until my college roommate made a convincing case that his mother was heinous and not worthy of his love.

I'm a lot more comfortable now loving my mother because she is a wonderful person who raised me well. That puts me in charge of my actions and decisions - not some archaic tradition or cultural assumption.

If you want to suck the joy out of living, though, you don't have to stop at habits and family. You can deconstruct religion, work, laws, pasttimes, friendships, birthdays, funerals, small talk, and all forms of entertainment. If you delve deeply enough, you can make anything in the world seem stupid and meaningless, done for reasons that make no sense at all.

A lot of times, though, life is simple. It doesn't demand deconstruction. A family reunion can be worthwhile if everyone there believes it is worthwhile. Family members love each other because it makes them feel good. Whether they do it consciously, or because they were indoctrinated at birth, the end result can be a wonderful thing.

The weekend was a lot more fun when I shut up my brain and appreciated the happiness in front of me. Sometimes things just are, for reasons that might or might not make logical sense.

It's important to deconstruct parts of your life. Chances are that you have a bunch of habits and routines that, upon closer scrutiny, you might be doing for reasons that make no sense to you. Clear them out and find better ways to fill your time. Act consciously, for reasons that are relevant to your life.

But deconstructing can also whittle life's possibilities down to a tiny list of things that pass all of your rational, logical tests. There's a level where nothing seems worthwhile or makes sense if you are too strict.

That's a scary level. Life should be about taking advantage of opportunities and enjoying the world's gifts. Dismissing those opportunities and gifts seems like a limiting, unfulfilling way to live.

Sometimes our traditions and assumptions are stupid and limiting. Often, though, they are the source of much of the world's happiness. You have the choice to stand back and mock people for following them, or to jump in and enjoy what everybody else is already enjoying.

Sunday, June 17, 2007

I'm still alive, and I appreciate everyone who has checked here in the last week.

Right now, I'm not feeling like much of a teacher or a talker. I'm living and experiencing and figuring things out - which is always the case.

But lately, I haven't felt like I have any answers. And in that context, lecturing to anybody about anything would feel disingenuous.

This will pass, probably in a few days. Keep checking back.

Thursday, June 7, 2007

What Just Happened?

A big theme in my life is noticing the moment. This counts for double when it is a moment I've worked towards, an achievement that's taken weeks or months of hard work.

That said, I like an achievement even more when I don't notice it at first.

For instance, I ran on the treadmill tonight at a speed I rarely hit. I flew, and I sweated, and the time passed without much problem.

It seemed natural, as if I'd always done it that way.

That's a wash. For most of my life, I couldn't run. I huffed and puffed and got side-aches after about two minutes. When I exercised, I walked. Period.

That was my life until a year ago, and now it seems like a distant memory. I take for granted how far I've come.

Hell, running is nothing if I don't leave my apartment, my comfortable bed and my air conditioning and my refrigerator, to go to the gym.

How many nights have I said "fuck it" and avoided the gym, avoided the world? Tonight, though, I was acting on a habit, one I've drilled into myself day after day.

I barely noticed I'd left my apartment until I was halfway down the street.

Last example. I was at lunch with friends this afternoon, and I saw a pretty girl sit down to eat. Without thinking much, I excused myself from my friends, walked over to the girl, and asked if I could join her for a minute.

The conversation was terrible, which I'll take full credit for. I ran away after a minute. But I did it.

For as much as I plan for and stress about moments like that, I'd only done it twice in my life before today. But even that miniscule experience brought me to a point where the approach didn't seem like a big deal.

It wasn't as significant as it used to be. That's huge. That means it's become normal, even if just a little.

This is a double-edged sword. You want to give yourself credit for your victories. You want to revel in them, enjoy them, celebrate.

But it is damn cool when you don't even notice them. And when you notice that, you'll have the momentum to plan and achieve other things that, if you're good enough, will also fly by undetected.

Wednesday, June 6, 2007

Introversion

I have been an introvert my whole life. I have preferred, for the most part, to exist in my own head than to interact with the world.

I am quiet. I like reading. I tend to be much more comfortable in an empty room than out in a crowd.

Most people are either introverts or extroverts. Each has its ups and downs, for sure. But most people seem to share two beliefs concerning introversion and extroversion:

1) Both are equal. Equally good, equally bad, or equally just there, but one is not better than the other.

2) You are stuck with your particular designation for your whole life.

I will not conclude in this article that either of those are false. They certainly seem constraining, but I haven't yet been able to prove them wrong.

I disagree with them, though.

Introversion has a lot going for it. A well-meaning psychiatrist, an introvert himself, once tried to reassure me: "Introverts think more deeply. We are more intuitive. We notice the little details, and we can use that to our advantage in social situations."

Fine, great. I want more. This article is not designed to give introversion the credit it deserves, because I have my eyes on something better.

Extroverts seem to have all the fun in life. They choose their friends. They get the attention. They are the life of the party. They are brash and funny and seem more alive.

They connect with people. That's huge. If connection is as important as I've come to believe, then I want the ability to connect deeply with as many people as I can.

If I am an extrovert, that will be a lot easier. I will be able to choose the people I connect with. And once I've chosen somebody I want to talk with, I will have something to say and the energy and courage to say it. No more running into the prison bars of introversion, even if the prison I fall back into is safe and comfortable.

Plenty of people see these examples of extroversion as negative, and they certainly can be. One of my hyper-outgoing students once confessed to me that his outgoing nature wore him down. He wasn't in control of it.

For the most part, though, I see extroversion as a very free way to live. And I see introversion as a prison.

It can be a useful, comfortable prison, one that allows us the downtime and reflection necessary to succeed in our chosen fields. But I think that at the heart of it, there is a lack of choice involved.

Most people, given the choice, would at least like the ability to talk to anyone, which they would then temper and use wisely. I know I would.

So, can you jump ship and change your affiliation? I'm certainly trying. It is damn hard to change anything about seemingly fundamental and ingrained about yourself. But I do believe that almost all habits can be un-learned and replaced if you work hard enough.

I want the rewards of extroversion. An outgoing life seems more fun, more electric. But more importantly, I want the choice that most extroverts have - not just of people and situations, but of being able to say what I want to say, when I want to say it, loud enough so that people will hear me.