What are you supposed to do when perfection seems so near that you can almost see it? When you feel like you could've done it, but it's too late? It's like Plato may have been more right than he could have imagined. Perfection is in fact something which appears so close and yet isn't something that we could possibly have ever really seen, nor can it be something that we ever achieve, but why? Why is this the case?
When we paint a picture, we presume it to be the most perfect version of itself, as it does not exist in any other form. Even if a painting is done again in a precisely identical manner, even for an identical aim, time alone dictates that the same thing can never be done twice. But does time even matter? If I close the door at one instant with a certain number of people observing this act, then do the same thing again mere seconds later, with all the same people, the same door, the same "I" closing it, isn't this for all intents and purposes an identical action? There may be fewer seconds between the second occurrence of this event than the first and a person's inevitable end, but in the scheme of things, does that matter?
After all, we always tell each other not to dwell on the little things and to simply enjoy the fact that we are all alive; maybe even cherish the things we dwell on because our life is good enough to allow us time to dwell. But isn't what is little and what is big a matter of perspective, as is the relative goodness or badness of something? If that's the case, then it shouldn't matter what I or anyone else do because virtually every non-scientific characteristic or definition I ascribe to an act is a definition, at least temporarily, uniquely mine.
If we're going to go so far as to say that good and bad are seen from a place within certain bounds, then why do we further arbitrarily limit what we are allowed to call good and bad? The only thing which can almost universally be said by any rational individual to be bad is that which unquestionably worsens the conditions of human life. But even that is only if you're human, so why must we insist on looking to science, the materialism of logic, to prove what is good for humans, when so far as has been logically and scientifically proven, we may not be strictly material? I tend to believe that if there exist things which are provable in a material fashion, then all things are provable in a material fashion. I know that that statement is inductive (and therefore easily falsifiable), but why is it that, when so much of our universe is ending up holding true to the former, so many people disagree on the latter? It's like they want to have it both ways, which is in my eyes a disgusting self-deception that ought to be done away with permanently.
If we can conceive of or imagine a realm of perfection, of an area in which perfect things lie instead of at a singular point, then why can't it be that this realm exists? Why can't we agree that that which is conceivable is also imaginable and therefore possible? I'm arguing here for a point I don't believe in because it's the only way I can justify a point I do. People cannot be "perfect", but they can be perfect versions of themselves. I suppose it's when we don't feel that we're the best we can be that we feel out worst. Perhaps my persistent imagining of a timestream where I am someone else or a better version of myself is as psychologically-unhelpful as it seems. But again, the only feeling I have left over from that thought is one of frustration. After all, I could've been better in the past. Maybe it's the realization of how that would've affected my present and future that annoys and pains so constantly. After all, "have" can mean both "must" and "did possess (a particular state)". For all I know, it's the double meaning of that first word that's been messing with my head for so long.
But it's not just me. We could all have been better in some way--healthier, prettier, kinder, more intelligent, harder-working, generous, helpful. You name it, chances are you're not perfect in that aspect. But why? Why do people, myself included, so frequently fail to live up to their potential? Why do we allow people such leeway in their character or being when forbidding this freedom would make the world a better place? Of course, many will say that it's because requiring more would impinge on freedom, and therefore happiness. But I don't believe in that "freedom" nonsense. If I must eat, I am not free. If I must drink, I am not free. If I must breath, I am not free. So why do we aspire to maximize, to perfect, our freedom, if one, we think perfection of anything isn't possible, and two, freedom has exceptionally limited intrinsic value? After all, if we say, "we are free", that doesn't say much. Free to do what? Free to pursue the perfection of self that we consider valuable? Certainly, American/Anglo-Saxon/European society has long valued perfection. We try to paint it, write it, think it, be it. But at the same time we tell others and ourselves that that pursuit is meaningless, and harmful to the self. If that were true, why would we value whatever image we have of it so highly? And freedom provides no requirement for the achievement of perfection.
From my perspective, freedom is useless in 3 ways-
1. It superficially tells us that nothing other than itself is so valuable that all must be directed toward it.
2. It wants us to be the perfect version of ourselves so that it can continue without having to absolve itself of the conflicts it must naturally allow to exist.
3. It produces no drive for the perfection that it needs to be sustained, and therefore willingly allows itself to die unless we actively maintain whatever version of it we percieve to be complete.
What is a person to do in a society that purports to give him freedom to do what he wants, but only within certain bounds, and requires a high if not total degree of self-perfection to operate (or at least it operates best when this exists), yet not only doesn't provide a strict definition of perfection, but encourages people to define their own perfection? Freedom and it's correlate capitalism fail for these reasons, and intelligent totalitarianism succeeds for precisely the opposite. It tells us what is valuable, should allow our falling from the perfection of those values, and helps us up with a framework for achieving them.
I'd like to say I'll take being perfect over being free any day of the week. But my own life reflects how conflicted I feel on this topic.
I'm really anxious for them to fully understand all the mechanisms of the human brain.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Mirror, Mirror, On the Wall....
I could have easily entitled this post "Frustration" as well, but that would seem to be redundant; frustration is simply a constant recurrence for me, I suppose.
So, this semester, I'm taking an Aesthetics seminar course here at the university. I've found it incredibly interesting so far, and aside from so far confirming what I've long thought about human aesthetics (specifically that there is essentially a way to quantify beauty by registering the number of characteristics a person possesses which signal reproductive fitness), I've noticed something else. As we sit in the classroom discussing which features have traditionally served as biological cues of reproductive fitness, and arguments for and against using those characteristics to define beauty, I'm constantly thinking, "Hm...does that describe my appearance"? I've also begun to look in my dorm room mirror even more than I previously did, which is saying something.
Am I really that shallow?
Granted, I can partially ease my concern about this by saying that paying attention to appearance is a perfectly natural thing to do, as, like most humans, I have a strong biological drive (not necessarily pleasure-centric) to fornicate with others, and thus to ensure that they want to do so with me as well. But as a person who spends a bulk of his time thinking in circles and squares, I can also quite easily shoot that thin excuse down.
After all, from a logical perspective, being gay, I won't be passing on genes when I have sex with another man, and there are several genetic qualities I feel it's almost a duty for me not to pass on (primarily the acne from which I suffered as a teenager, and the depressive view that has only partly stemmed from the effects that had on my adolescence).
Additionally, I thought I knew that looks, while important on a basic level, aren't crucial to success, even if being attractive does help. But the amount of time I spent concerned about how I look and how others look at me borders on pathological (see previous post), and my narcissism certainly hasn't helped me feel any better. Who doesn't tend to focus on their lesser qualities more than their positive attributes, in hopes of reducing them? But as I began typing this post, I came upon a more surprising, disturbing, and disappointing thought. I think that my concerns over appearance have led to me valuing that which I've long considered a weakness, albeit one we're all predisposed to: short-term and superficial gain, instead of the more meaningful long-term and structural reward that comes with focusing on deeper human qualities instead of simply how you look.
I mean, I can't even count the number of times when I've stopped reading a book or an article out of "boredom" and begun to watch something online, even though I'm totally aware that the reward for these things only comes with the completion of them. How many times have I wanted to start a sociology or philosophy text from the library, read about things I genuinely care about, seen the number or pages, and put it down? I'm ashamed to say that I can't even count the number of times I didn't read something just because there was something else to do that required less active participation. And it'd be best that my employer not figure out just how many times I've not gone to work basically because I didn't feel like it.
I wrote before about my "death drive", or desire to be surrounded by or participate in things or activities that are strictly speaking inactive. I've always been puzzled by people who say they prefer the deathly silence of a countryside to the liveliness and vitality of a metropolis, and yet long have I avoided activies that bear similar qualities. I've always justified doing so by saying either I won't have fun, the people I'm with won't have fun because I'm there (a healthy thought, I know), or the thing itself won't be fun. It's a sort of internal social awkwardness which I'm exceptionally good at hiding, but affects me all the same. I don't know where it came from, but I can't remember a time when it wasn't there.
As I've mentioned before, I have chronic self-esteem issues, and I think I'm finally beginning to understand just what that's meant for me. But what can I do? I can't make myself feel better, because if I do, it won't be because I'm better than I was the day before (even if I actually am in some way), it'll just be because I want to make myself feel better. I don't trust friends to tell the truth about me, even if I'm ever bold enough to risk their discomfort in asking them what they think of me, because as soon as they consider me a friend, there's a social advantage to keeping me (or anyone else the consider a friend) friendly. And I certainly don't trust family members, who have a biological and psychological drive (they want to make themselves feel that their genes are more likely to be passed on, and making someone else in their gene pool feel that way has the same effect), to tell me what they honestly think about me.
But where did the low self-esteem come from in the first place? I was made fun of as a kid (red hair, freckles, being taller than average, etc.), but the reasons for which I was made fun of no longer bother me, with the partial exception of my height. My parents, though not always the most attentive with 3 other kids to manage, never did anything that I can remember that seriously bruised my ego (repression?). My older brother, the only one close enough in age to influence me, would pick on me, but only ever in the way most siblings pick on one another. So why do I have such self-doubt? I like to think that I'm merely taking a more realistic approach to evaluating who I am than most people do about themselves, but is it realistic or unjustifiably negative? Is it depressive realism or just depression?
Of course, a number of times when I've felt my lowest, I've imagined myself with a guy who values me and enjoys my company in every way, and having that release me from so many of my concerns, but of course for that to happen would require that I figure out, at least to some extent, what's wrong with me in the first place so I can explain my head to my patient other. I'd say it's a chicken-or-egg problem, but really, it's the egg.
Anyone have an incubator? Or a chicken?
So, this semester, I'm taking an Aesthetics seminar course here at the university. I've found it incredibly interesting so far, and aside from so far confirming what I've long thought about human aesthetics (specifically that there is essentially a way to quantify beauty by registering the number of characteristics a person possesses which signal reproductive fitness), I've noticed something else. As we sit in the classroom discussing which features have traditionally served as biological cues of reproductive fitness, and arguments for and against using those characteristics to define beauty, I'm constantly thinking, "Hm...does that describe my appearance"? I've also begun to look in my dorm room mirror even more than I previously did, which is saying something.
Am I really that shallow?
Granted, I can partially ease my concern about this by saying that paying attention to appearance is a perfectly natural thing to do, as, like most humans, I have a strong biological drive (not necessarily pleasure-centric) to fornicate with others, and thus to ensure that they want to do so with me as well. But as a person who spends a bulk of his time thinking in circles and squares, I can also quite easily shoot that thin excuse down.
After all, from a logical perspective, being gay, I won't be passing on genes when I have sex with another man, and there are several genetic qualities I feel it's almost a duty for me not to pass on (primarily the acne from which I suffered as a teenager, and the depressive view that has only partly stemmed from the effects that had on my adolescence).
Additionally, I thought I knew that looks, while important on a basic level, aren't crucial to success, even if being attractive does help. But the amount of time I spent concerned about how I look and how others look at me borders on pathological (see previous post), and my narcissism certainly hasn't helped me feel any better. Who doesn't tend to focus on their lesser qualities more than their positive attributes, in hopes of reducing them? But as I began typing this post, I came upon a more surprising, disturbing, and disappointing thought. I think that my concerns over appearance have led to me valuing that which I've long considered a weakness, albeit one we're all predisposed to: short-term and superficial gain, instead of the more meaningful long-term and structural reward that comes with focusing on deeper human qualities instead of simply how you look.
I mean, I can't even count the number of times when I've stopped reading a book or an article out of "boredom" and begun to watch something online, even though I'm totally aware that the reward for these things only comes with the completion of them. How many times have I wanted to start a sociology or philosophy text from the library, read about things I genuinely care about, seen the number or pages, and put it down? I'm ashamed to say that I can't even count the number of times I didn't read something just because there was something else to do that required less active participation. And it'd be best that my employer not figure out just how many times I've not gone to work basically because I didn't feel like it.
I wrote before about my "death drive", or desire to be surrounded by or participate in things or activities that are strictly speaking inactive. I've always been puzzled by people who say they prefer the deathly silence of a countryside to the liveliness and vitality of a metropolis, and yet long have I avoided activies that bear similar qualities. I've always justified doing so by saying either I won't have fun, the people I'm with won't have fun because I'm there (a healthy thought, I know), or the thing itself won't be fun. It's a sort of internal social awkwardness which I'm exceptionally good at hiding, but affects me all the same. I don't know where it came from, but I can't remember a time when it wasn't there.
As I've mentioned before, I have chronic self-esteem issues, and I think I'm finally beginning to understand just what that's meant for me. But what can I do? I can't make myself feel better, because if I do, it won't be because I'm better than I was the day before (even if I actually am in some way), it'll just be because I want to make myself feel better. I don't trust friends to tell the truth about me, even if I'm ever bold enough to risk their discomfort in asking them what they think of me, because as soon as they consider me a friend, there's a social advantage to keeping me (or anyone else the consider a friend) friendly. And I certainly don't trust family members, who have a biological and psychological drive (they want to make themselves feel that their genes are more likely to be passed on, and making someone else in their gene pool feel that way has the same effect), to tell me what they honestly think about me.
But where did the low self-esteem come from in the first place? I was made fun of as a kid (red hair, freckles, being taller than average, etc.), but the reasons for which I was made fun of no longer bother me, with the partial exception of my height. My parents, though not always the most attentive with 3 other kids to manage, never did anything that I can remember that seriously bruised my ego (repression?). My older brother, the only one close enough in age to influence me, would pick on me, but only ever in the way most siblings pick on one another. So why do I have such self-doubt? I like to think that I'm merely taking a more realistic approach to evaluating who I am than most people do about themselves, but is it realistic or unjustifiably negative? Is it depressive realism or just depression?
Of course, a number of times when I've felt my lowest, I've imagined myself with a guy who values me and enjoys my company in every way, and having that release me from so many of my concerns, but of course for that to happen would require that I figure out, at least to some extent, what's wrong with me in the first place so I can explain my head to my patient other. I'd say it's a chicken-or-egg problem, but really, it's the egg.
Anyone have an incubator? Or a chicken?
Friday, February 4, 2011
Confusion
In what's turning into a series of somewhat related posts, I'm going to figure out why it is that I'm so lonely, and how I got here. I'm going to try and be as frank and objective as possible, but obviously as I'm talking about myself (yet again) I won't be able to view things from a completely unbiased perspective.
When I was younger, even as recently as high school (I'm 21 right now), I had a good number of friends. Divided into percentages in a hierarchy of closeness, I'd say they were about 5% best friends, 15% good friends, 35% friends, and 45% acquaintances. Most of them were in the music department at my high school; as the lead cellist in the orchestra, I was a bit of a music nerd, but also smart enough to make it into the honors courses of the school, so I was among the "elites", even if I never totally fit in with them. I thought of myself as a social person, and often went out with friends to the movies/mall/etc. I'd always been the social one of the elder pair of my parents' kids (my older brother is 24, and the younger two are 12 and 10), and my parents would always tell me how easily I'd made friends from a young age.
As convenient as it'd be to draw the line between my social period and my much more withdrawn current self at my suicide attempt in the middle of October 2006 (or my family's discovery of it about a year later), I'm not totally sure that's accurate. I think that a large portion of my character is formed and informed by low self-esteem, and that's something I think I may have always had. At the very least, I've been a bit of a sensitive person throughout my life, good though I am at hiding that now; therefore all the bullying and criticism that I'd received from various people at different times (I don't think it was too much more or less than what everyone goes through) was internalized and validated in my mind. And as I mentioned in my previous post, although I think I might be over my perfectionist tendencies, the fact that I fell so short of my own expectations most of the time didn't help. I don't know whom I imbibed the perfectionist ideals from (it certainly wasn't my parents; if anything, the fact that our parents never seemed to expect much of us was an impetus for me to set my own standards), but they most certainly continue to play a role in how I move through the world, much as I actively try to purge them from my mind knowing the damage that they do.
At the same time, I'm not sure that perfection is as unreachable as it's often said to be. While achieving a perfect mind, perfect body, and perfect personality simultaneously may be impossible, it doesn't mean that achieving some definition of one of those three terms is unlikely. If we widen the definition of them to be simply an accomplished mind, attractive body, and open and friendly personality, I'd say at least a few people had achieved it. As they say, no one's perfect, but I think it's accurate to say that some come closer than others. It's my belief in that last point (which I don't think is really arguable) that has long made me feel so uncomfortable interacting with others.
After all, what should I think people are expecting when they interact with me? The instinctive thing to do initially is look at some one's appearance and work inwards. I'm 6' 5" (190cm), which experience has taught always makes an impression, and ~190lbs (86kg). I know that I'm not fat by most standards, but my body lacks any real muscle tone, so the appearance is more of a skeleton after holiday than anything else, although my bone structure is large enough to make it clear that I have a fair bit of underlying muscle waiting to be developed.
My face has many English characteristics, such as a not-terribly-well-defined chin, lack of cheek bones, and strong jaw, but my eye color (blue), shape, and placement, in addition to my jaw shape, nose, hair (red), and general facial proportions are alright...I think. I'm pretty sure I always notice people looking at my face (specifically) when I walk by (and I don't think I'm imagining it because I'll tend to be looking elsewhere, then look at someone looking at me when I change focus; it is typically women), and it may be because I'm actually fairly attractive, but I'm secretly somewhat terrified that it might be because I'm really unattractive. The only inarguable aesthetic detriment is that I do have quite a lot of acne scarring in my face, although I tend only to notice it in non-natural light. I never had any girls like me in high school (that I know of), but that was mostly because I came out my freshman year, so I think they knew better. I have had a few guys tell me they think I'm attractive, and considering the number as a percentage of guys who are out or gay in my area in the first place, it's a good number. I'd post a picture, but despite living in the age of Facebook, no good ones really exist. Besides, considering my British Isles and Germanic heritage, my inability to hold any sort of tan makes me always less than photogenic.
So assuming that my appearance is at bare minimum inoffensive, personality tends to come second in assessing people as it's more immediately evident than intelligence or wisdom. I've always tried to be a considerate and kind person, and rarely is a door not held open nor a friendly smile not exchanged (the fact that so few people in this part of the country smile at one another is a source of annoyance for me). I tend to fall into the listener position in any conversation as I'm good at getting people to talk about themselves and dislike talking about myself (in person, hence this blog). Having such an entertainingly bitchy best friend has certainly affected me, and I tend to make judgments on first glance to myself due to her influence that I recant to myself later. I may not be a social butterfly anymore, but years and years of practice have yet to let me become rusty at making sure people are comfortable around me.
Finally, there's the issue of intelligence. This is the one I have the most trouble with. As I mentioned earlier, I was in almost all honors classes by the end of high school, and I didn't get there through hard work. The university I'm attending, the University of New Hampshire, isn't exactly a public Ivy, but it's good enough to be ranked 110th out of all the universities in the country, if that says anything; it's not great by any means, but it's not awful either. Additionally, as I have long done, any classes which rely on discussion or paper-writing, things which require quick critical thinking, I tend to do well, and I think people tend to perceive me as one of the "smarter" people in my classes. The fact that I'm capable of doing substantial research papers ~10 pages long in a matter of hours that receive grades in the high B's-low A's is something I feel further substantiates my perception of myself as intelligent. Additionally, I rarely lose an argument, and as a person with a naturally quiet voice, I can assure you that they don't turn into shouting matches. But nonetheless, I always wonder. The only person who I'm almost 100% sure is smarter than I am, whose judgement I trust on this sort of thing nearly unconditionally, is my older brother, and even he has subconscious biological and psychological reasons for thinking that I'm much smarter than the average person.
I'm always nervous--are there things that I don't perceive in daily conversations that are so far beyond my perception I don't even realize I'm missing them? My quantitative reasoning skills feel as though they stopped progressing past middle school, and I wonder if that's led to a sympathetic decrease in my qualitative reasoning skills, too.... I know that most people have these sorts of questions about themselves, but I'm not the sort of person who's good enough at comforting himself to the point where these concerns vanish. After all, if I look at myself from as objective a perspective as I can manage, what have I got to show as a person? I'm attending a fairly average (and seriously overpriced) school, the sort that requires you make something out of your education instead of simply providing you with the sort of pedigree people don't question. I've never had a boyfriend, or even kissed a guy for goodness sake, and I spend most of my days at this point in my dorm room thinking, wasting time, or writing down things like this. I'm not saying that I need to be great, as clearly that's not a terribly achievable goal, vague as it is.
But if I'm even just average, why am I not as happy and socialized and comfortable as everyone else seems to be?
When I was younger, even as recently as high school (I'm 21 right now), I had a good number of friends. Divided into percentages in a hierarchy of closeness, I'd say they were about 5% best friends, 15% good friends, 35% friends, and 45% acquaintances. Most of them were in the music department at my high school; as the lead cellist in the orchestra, I was a bit of a music nerd, but also smart enough to make it into the honors courses of the school, so I was among the "elites", even if I never totally fit in with them. I thought of myself as a social person, and often went out with friends to the movies/mall/etc. I'd always been the social one of the elder pair of my parents' kids (my older brother is 24, and the younger two are 12 and 10), and my parents would always tell me how easily I'd made friends from a young age.
As convenient as it'd be to draw the line between my social period and my much more withdrawn current self at my suicide attempt in the middle of October 2006 (or my family's discovery of it about a year later), I'm not totally sure that's accurate. I think that a large portion of my character is formed and informed by low self-esteem, and that's something I think I may have always had. At the very least, I've been a bit of a sensitive person throughout my life, good though I am at hiding that now; therefore all the bullying and criticism that I'd received from various people at different times (I don't think it was too much more or less than what everyone goes through) was internalized and validated in my mind. And as I mentioned in my previous post, although I think I might be over my perfectionist tendencies, the fact that I fell so short of my own expectations most of the time didn't help. I don't know whom I imbibed the perfectionist ideals from (it certainly wasn't my parents; if anything, the fact that our parents never seemed to expect much of us was an impetus for me to set my own standards), but they most certainly continue to play a role in how I move through the world, much as I actively try to purge them from my mind knowing the damage that they do.
At the same time, I'm not sure that perfection is as unreachable as it's often said to be. While achieving a perfect mind, perfect body, and perfect personality simultaneously may be impossible, it doesn't mean that achieving some definition of one of those three terms is unlikely. If we widen the definition of them to be simply an accomplished mind, attractive body, and open and friendly personality, I'd say at least a few people had achieved it. As they say, no one's perfect, but I think it's accurate to say that some come closer than others. It's my belief in that last point (which I don't think is really arguable) that has long made me feel so uncomfortable interacting with others.
After all, what should I think people are expecting when they interact with me? The instinctive thing to do initially is look at some one's appearance and work inwards. I'm 6' 5" (190cm), which experience has taught always makes an impression, and ~190lbs (86kg). I know that I'm not fat by most standards, but my body lacks any real muscle tone, so the appearance is more of a skeleton after holiday than anything else, although my bone structure is large enough to make it clear that I have a fair bit of underlying muscle waiting to be developed.
My face has many English characteristics, such as a not-terribly-well-defined chin, lack of cheek bones, and strong jaw, but my eye color (blue), shape, and placement, in addition to my jaw shape, nose, hair (red), and general facial proportions are alright...I think. I'm pretty sure I always notice people looking at my face (specifically) when I walk by (and I don't think I'm imagining it because I'll tend to be looking elsewhere, then look at someone looking at me when I change focus; it is typically women), and it may be because I'm actually fairly attractive, but I'm secretly somewhat terrified that it might be because I'm really unattractive. The only inarguable aesthetic detriment is that I do have quite a lot of acne scarring in my face, although I tend only to notice it in non-natural light. I never had any girls like me in high school (that I know of), but that was mostly because I came out my freshman year, so I think they knew better. I have had a few guys tell me they think I'm attractive, and considering the number as a percentage of guys who are out or gay in my area in the first place, it's a good number. I'd post a picture, but despite living in the age of Facebook, no good ones really exist. Besides, considering my British Isles and Germanic heritage, my inability to hold any sort of tan makes me always less than photogenic.
So assuming that my appearance is at bare minimum inoffensive, personality tends to come second in assessing people as it's more immediately evident than intelligence or wisdom. I've always tried to be a considerate and kind person, and rarely is a door not held open nor a friendly smile not exchanged (the fact that so few people in this part of the country smile at one another is a source of annoyance for me). I tend to fall into the listener position in any conversation as I'm good at getting people to talk about themselves and dislike talking about myself (in person, hence this blog). Having such an entertainingly bitchy best friend has certainly affected me, and I tend to make judgments on first glance to myself due to her influence that I recant to myself later. I may not be a social butterfly anymore, but years and years of practice have yet to let me become rusty at making sure people are comfortable around me.
Finally, there's the issue of intelligence. This is the one I have the most trouble with. As I mentioned earlier, I was in almost all honors classes by the end of high school, and I didn't get there through hard work. The university I'm attending, the University of New Hampshire, isn't exactly a public Ivy, but it's good enough to be ranked 110th out of all the universities in the country, if that says anything; it's not great by any means, but it's not awful either. Additionally, as I have long done, any classes which rely on discussion or paper-writing, things which require quick critical thinking, I tend to do well, and I think people tend to perceive me as one of the "smarter" people in my classes. The fact that I'm capable of doing substantial research papers ~10 pages long in a matter of hours that receive grades in the high B's-low A's is something I feel further substantiates my perception of myself as intelligent. Additionally, I rarely lose an argument, and as a person with a naturally quiet voice, I can assure you that they don't turn into shouting matches. But nonetheless, I always wonder. The only person who I'm almost 100% sure is smarter than I am, whose judgement I trust on this sort of thing nearly unconditionally, is my older brother, and even he has subconscious biological and psychological reasons for thinking that I'm much smarter than the average person.
I'm always nervous--are there things that I don't perceive in daily conversations that are so far beyond my perception I don't even realize I'm missing them? My quantitative reasoning skills feel as though they stopped progressing past middle school, and I wonder if that's led to a sympathetic decrease in my qualitative reasoning skills, too.... I know that most people have these sorts of questions about themselves, but I'm not the sort of person who's good enough at comforting himself to the point where these concerns vanish. After all, if I look at myself from as objective a perspective as I can manage, what have I got to show as a person? I'm attending a fairly average (and seriously overpriced) school, the sort that requires you make something out of your education instead of simply providing you with the sort of pedigree people don't question. I've never had a boyfriend, or even kissed a guy for goodness sake, and I spend most of my days at this point in my dorm room thinking, wasting time, or writing down things like this. I'm not saying that I need to be great, as clearly that's not a terribly achievable goal, vague as it is.
But if I'm even just average, why am I not as happy and socialized and comfortable as everyone else seems to be?
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