Isn't it interesting how different people interact differently? How you can completely 'click' with one person, and struggle to make small talk with another? And even among the people you click with, there are even fewer who you could re-click with after a long absence- the kind of people you can 'pick up' where you 'left off' with.
I've been thinking lately about how many people we meet in our lives, and how some friendships and relationships last longer than others. I think the longevity of any given friendship between two people partially depends on circumstances, but even more substantially depends on some unseen 'click' factor.
So what determines the 'click' or absence of 'clickage'? I took a personality psychology class in college that brought up this issue and attributed it to having similar or different 'constructs.' According to personal construct theory, we all carry around our own 'constructs' of reality based on our indivdual experiences. An example would be a person's perception of the happy-sad spectrum, and where they would place other individuals they've come in contact with. That was a very quick and surface-level explanation, but I don't really care to get into detail about that whole theory, nor do I really know enough about it anymore to explain it much further.
Anyway, according to this theory, we find an easier connection with people who share similar contructs as us; basically: we click best with people we agree with- and not just people we agree with, but people we actually see things the same way as.
This immediately makes sense to me, since I've realized all of my good friends share the same sense of humor as I do. That is a little demonstration of a similar humor-construct, I suppose.
This does lead me to wonder, though, if we are attracted to members of the opposite sex who hold certain opposing constructs. Humor, of course, would not be one of them; in my experience, lack of a common sense of humor means the inevitable death of even the most fervent romantic interest.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Saturday, August 30, 2008
moving forward, looking backward, and around, and forward again
As I mentioned yesterday, I've been cleaning out my room this week, and I stumbled upon an old change purse I thought I lost. I was pretty excited, because only a week or two ago I actually had a passing thought about that change purse ("it would be nice to have that right now"....or something along those lines). Well, it was in an old bag of mine that I haven't used in over a year, so I kept the coin purse and got rid of the bag I found it in.
Inside the coin purse were some coins (big surprise), and a bottle cap. I was a little confused about that. It was one of those big bottle caps, like the size that goes on a Snapple bottle.
"Why would I have kept this?"
And then I flipped it over, and remembered why I kept it. On the inside of the lid, there was a little Chinese proverb printed that said:
"If we don't change the direction we are headed, we will end up where we are going."
At the time I saved this ice tea bottle lid, I was dating someone who was completely wrong for me. I didn't want to admit it at the time, but deep down I knew there was absolutely no future for us. The little phrase on this lid stirred something in me, that I'm-trying-to-tell-you-something voice reminded me for the hundredth time that I wasn't moving in the direction I wanted to be moving in.
Now, I'm not usually one for what I like to call 'directional metaphors,' those figurative phrases people use to explain or describe yours or their own position in life...phrases like "at a standstill," "it's all downhill from here," and even the ever-popular "moving on" (as if accepting reality really means packing up yourself and your things and moving away from it). I used to think it was silly to describe the state of affairs in your life with such jargon. Does a person always have to be 'moving' or 'not moving'? And if you're not moving, is that a bad thing?
I used to think you really could stand still somewhere in your life; after previously going through a bad break up, I had felt like I wasn't moving, only sitting, looking around the same 5x5 space. So I saw this guy who was completely wrong for me in all the ways that matter, and he wandered into my 5x5 space and I said 'why not?'
Then I drank an iced tea one day, and the bottle and that little voice shouted out at me that these directional metaphors I had come to detest so much really do have some truth to them; that I wasn't sitting, I was backsliding into a lifestyle I never wanted for myself. So I got out of it.
I don't mean to make that sound easy, that turning-around business. It was slow and messy and painful, but it was also necessary. Eventually, I found myself where I wanted to be. Alone for a long time, but content, because I saw myself facing the right direction for the first time.
I think there's a lot of directions a person can choose from...I don't mean to make it sound black and white, good or bad; a lot of times you don't know where the decisions you make will lead you, and you have to just live your life and do the best you can. Sometimes, though, you know you're settling for something you wouldn't have wanted if you had been more patient.
Despite what seems to be a contradiction- this moving vs. not moving- I guess it is all to help illustrate my confusion. Although I remember feeling frustrated by 'directional metaphors,' the fact that i saved a bottle cap that held a trite little directional phrase of its own only proves that I was caught up in that sort of mentality, and the ever-illusive 'moving on' was something that i desperately wanted to participate in.
Sometimes I feel like my posts are like a fork digging through a pot of speghetti noodles- my posts are jumbled and confusing and although new 'noodles' come to the surface, I'm not really sure what the end result is. I hope someone can 'eat' and be 'satisfied.'
Now there's an interesting metaphor for you.
Inside the coin purse were some coins (big surprise), and a bottle cap. I was a little confused about that. It was one of those big bottle caps, like the size that goes on a Snapple bottle.
"Why would I have kept this?"
And then I flipped it over, and remembered why I kept it. On the inside of the lid, there was a little Chinese proverb printed that said:
"If we don't change the direction we are headed, we will end up where we are going."
At the time I saved this ice tea bottle lid, I was dating someone who was completely wrong for me. I didn't want to admit it at the time, but deep down I knew there was absolutely no future for us. The little phrase on this lid stirred something in me, that I'm-trying-to-tell-you-something voice reminded me for the hundredth time that I wasn't moving in the direction I wanted to be moving in.
Now, I'm not usually one for what I like to call 'directional metaphors,' those figurative phrases people use to explain or describe yours or their own position in life...phrases like "at a standstill," "it's all downhill from here," and even the ever-popular "moving on" (as if accepting reality really means packing up yourself and your things and moving away from it). I used to think it was silly to describe the state of affairs in your life with such jargon. Does a person always have to be 'moving' or 'not moving'? And if you're not moving, is that a bad thing?
I used to think you really could stand still somewhere in your life; after previously going through a bad break up, I had felt like I wasn't moving, only sitting, looking around the same 5x5 space. So I saw this guy who was completely wrong for me in all the ways that matter, and he wandered into my 5x5 space and I said 'why not?'
Then I drank an iced tea one day, and the bottle and that little voice shouted out at me that these directional metaphors I had come to detest so much really do have some truth to them; that I wasn't sitting, I was backsliding into a lifestyle I never wanted for myself. So I got out of it.
I don't mean to make that sound easy, that turning-around business. It was slow and messy and painful, but it was also necessary. Eventually, I found myself where I wanted to be. Alone for a long time, but content, because I saw myself facing the right direction for the first time.
I think there's a lot of directions a person can choose from...I don't mean to make it sound black and white, good or bad; a lot of times you don't know where the decisions you make will lead you, and you have to just live your life and do the best you can. Sometimes, though, you know you're settling for something you wouldn't have wanted if you had been more patient.
Despite what seems to be a contradiction- this moving vs. not moving- I guess it is all to help illustrate my confusion. Although I remember feeling frustrated by 'directional metaphors,' the fact that i saved a bottle cap that held a trite little directional phrase of its own only proves that I was caught up in that sort of mentality, and the ever-illusive 'moving on' was something that i desperately wanted to participate in.
Sometimes I feel like my posts are like a fork digging through a pot of speghetti noodles- my posts are jumbled and confusing and although new 'noodles' come to the surface, I'm not really sure what the end result is. I hope someone can 'eat' and be 'satisfied.'
Now there's an interesting metaphor for you.
Friday, August 29, 2008
so many things.
Now that I'm home from my little jaunt around Europe, I've been doing a lot of catching up. It's amusing to me because I've been wondering if it's been harder to catch up now after being gone three weeks than it was after I came home from being gone ten weeks in Europe two summers ago.
First of all, my sister moved back home from Seattle while I was gone. I'm thrilled by this- it's absolutely wonderful to have her back as a housemate; however, between the two of us, we have a lot of things. While she was gone over the past year, I've somehow, subconsciously of course (...), come to use her old bedroom as an extra storage space for some of my belongings. For instance, I put all my dresses in her closet. Also, I put a lot of items whose value and purpose are what I call "less immediate" in her room. We all own such things; the Bob Dylan scrapbook I bought for a steal after Christmas, 6 canvases on which I did an alternate methods project in my photography class two semesters ago, a large polka dot umbrella Emily gave me as a bridal party present back in March....etc. Needless to say, my sister was not thrilled about having these items in her room, and promptly relocated them to a massive heaping pile in the center of my room. To be clear, I don't blame her for that at all! I would have done the same thing and I do not view it as an aggressive act in any way. Those who have sisters should understand what I mean about all that.
Anyway, I digress. So, upon my return, after having PRAYED something along the lines of 'I hope I cleaned my room before I left because after three weeks I can't remember but I hope I had the foresight to predict this moment when I am so wanting to get home to a somewhat tidy room...' I opened my door and see mounds of the less important things I own scattered about, and a heaping pile of dresses strewn across my bed. I'd like to (somewhat hyperbolically) add that if these dresses were people, they would have taken up the space of about four people. ON MY TWIN BED.
And so, the next few days were what I like to call, a "cleansing" time. I sorted through a good chunk of what I have managed to accumulate over the years, and am getting rid of literally countless amount of clothing, and a good amount of other less-immediately-useful items as well.
As a self-confessed pack-rat, I find I have to be in a certain mood to really accomplish much in a cleansing operation. First, I have to be detached enough to be willing to part with certain things (which, in other moods, means all things). Secondly, I usually have to be fairly disgusted enough with the amount of things I own. It's easiest after going on a trip like I did, when I am retaught that I don't need all my things to survive. Hardly. I lived out of a backpack for three weeks, and although that got annoying, it was more an annoyance at the nomadic nature of the trip than at not having lots of things.
Here are some examples of things I finally cleansed my room and myself of:
-a number of body sprays I haven't used in at least a year
-a large, multi-colored glass candle holder my dad gave me over 7 years ago that I realized I have hung onto more for him than because I actually like it or use it. I realized that I don't like it or use it.
-a box-full of letters and pictures and other relationship-y items from an ex-boyfriend. For awhile I was still too attached to let these things go, then as time went on I held onto them thinking they still had some sort of inherent worth and I would show my children. Two days ago, as I added them to the discard pile, I hardly thought about any of that. I thought about the space these things have been taking up in my room, in my life. Good riddance.
-Clothes I havent even thought about wearing in over a year.
-Some hats. In general, I am not much of a hat person. I have come to terms with this.
And now I'm bored, and this is my life, so anyone else must be asleep by now from boredom.
The moral of the story is: getting rid of things is good. And in a weird, everyone-always-told-you-so-but-you-never-reeeeally-believed-them sort of way, cleaning through my belongings and getting rid of so much stuff has felt like an emotional weight has been removed; like the cleansing process was just as much for me as it was for my room.
First of all, my sister moved back home from Seattle while I was gone. I'm thrilled by this- it's absolutely wonderful to have her back as a housemate; however, between the two of us, we have a lot of things. While she was gone over the past year, I've somehow, subconsciously of course (...), come to use her old bedroom as an extra storage space for some of my belongings. For instance, I put all my dresses in her closet. Also, I put a lot of items whose value and purpose are what I call "less immediate" in her room. We all own such things; the Bob Dylan scrapbook I bought for a steal after Christmas, 6 canvases on which I did an alternate methods project in my photography class two semesters ago, a large polka dot umbrella Emily gave me as a bridal party present back in March....etc. Needless to say, my sister was not thrilled about having these items in her room, and promptly relocated them to a massive heaping pile in the center of my room. To be clear, I don't blame her for that at all! I would have done the same thing and I do not view it as an aggressive act in any way. Those who have sisters should understand what I mean about all that.
Anyway, I digress. So, upon my return, after having PRAYED something along the lines of 'I hope I cleaned my room before I left because after three weeks I can't remember but I hope I had the foresight to predict this moment when I am so wanting to get home to a somewhat tidy room...' I opened my door and see mounds of the less important things I own scattered about, and a heaping pile of dresses strewn across my bed. I'd like to (somewhat hyperbolically) add that if these dresses were people, they would have taken up the space of about four people. ON MY TWIN BED.
And so, the next few days were what I like to call, a "cleansing" time. I sorted through a good chunk of what I have managed to accumulate over the years, and am getting rid of literally countless amount of clothing, and a good amount of other less-immediately-useful items as well.
As a self-confessed pack-rat, I find I have to be in a certain mood to really accomplish much in a cleansing operation. First, I have to be detached enough to be willing to part with certain things (which, in other moods, means all things). Secondly, I usually have to be fairly disgusted enough with the amount of things I own. It's easiest after going on a trip like I did, when I am retaught that I don't need all my things to survive. Hardly. I lived out of a backpack for three weeks, and although that got annoying, it was more an annoyance at the nomadic nature of the trip than at not having lots of things.
Here are some examples of things I finally cleansed my room and myself of:
-a number of body sprays I haven't used in at least a year
-a large, multi-colored glass candle holder my dad gave me over 7 years ago that I realized I have hung onto more for him than because I actually like it or use it. I realized that I don't like it or use it.
-a box-full of letters and pictures and other relationship-y items from an ex-boyfriend. For awhile I was still too attached to let these things go, then as time went on I held onto them thinking they still had some sort of inherent worth and I would show my children. Two days ago, as I added them to the discard pile, I hardly thought about any of that. I thought about the space these things have been taking up in my room, in my life. Good riddance.
-Clothes I havent even thought about wearing in over a year.
-Some hats. In general, I am not much of a hat person. I have come to terms with this.
And now I'm bored, and this is my life, so anyone else must be asleep by now from boredom.
The moral of the story is: getting rid of things is good. And in a weird, everyone-always-told-you-so-but-you-never-reeeeally-believed-them sort of way, cleaning through my belongings and getting rid of so much stuff has felt like an emotional weight has been removed; like the cleansing process was just as much for me as it was for my room.
Saturday, August 9, 2008
greetings from amsterdam!
so, if you haven't heard, we are safe and doing great. london was fun, except we did a lot of sleeping due to the supreme jet laggy-ness. now we are in amsterdam, which is BEAUTIFUL. canals, coffee, art, history. oh yeah, and a lot of sketchy stuff we've been able to avoid for the most part. i guess every big city has its downside, right?
the people here are so calm, everything is so quiet and pretty clean, and biking is the thing to do. there are bikers everywhere, and little cars that put even smart cars to shame. randy calls them 'genius cars.'
we visited the anne frank house today, which was pretty remarkable. it's unfurnished, by the order/request of anne's father, otto (the only survivor of the 8 people who di in the house), but i kind of wished they had put wooden boxes or something to show where the furniture would have been, just to get an even better idea of how cramped it was for them. there were lots of pictures, of course, but i kept overhearing people say how big the rooms seemed...since i guess most of us imagined the two families living in a closet or something.
it was a really powerful experience. when i was standing on the street by the canal outside the house, it just struck me how determined the nazis had to be to search out every house so thoroughly....there are SO many skinny little houses, and each of them has about 5 floors.
we also filmed a little 'video message' after the tour was over, near the museum gift shop. we sent it to some friends- if you got it, please forward it on, as i got weary of typing in everyone's emails that i could remember-
i felt bad for acting silly in it, since it was at the anne frank museum, but i also wanted all our friends to know we are having a good time out here. i would post it on here, but i'm not that tech-savvy.
we're here staying with my friend rachael until next thursday, then we're heading over to cologne, germany! :)
the people here are so calm, everything is so quiet and pretty clean, and biking is the thing to do. there are bikers everywhere, and little cars that put even smart cars to shame. randy calls them 'genius cars.'
we visited the anne frank house today, which was pretty remarkable. it's unfurnished, by the order/request of anne's father, otto (the only survivor of the 8 people who di in the house), but i kind of wished they had put wooden boxes or something to show where the furniture would have been, just to get an even better idea of how cramped it was for them. there were lots of pictures, of course, but i kept overhearing people say how big the rooms seemed...since i guess most of us imagined the two families living in a closet or something.
it was a really powerful experience. when i was standing on the street by the canal outside the house, it just struck me how determined the nazis had to be to search out every house so thoroughly....there are SO many skinny little houses, and each of them has about 5 floors.
we also filmed a little 'video message' after the tour was over, near the museum gift shop. we sent it to some friends- if you got it, please forward it on, as i got weary of typing in everyone's emails that i could remember-
i felt bad for acting silly in it, since it was at the anne frank museum, but i also wanted all our friends to know we are having a good time out here. i would post it on here, but i'm not that tech-savvy.
we're here staying with my friend rachael until next thursday, then we're heading over to cologne, germany! :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
LinkWithin
