Things of Pink and Zebra

 (This "collection" brought to you by the "artist's" inane obsession with pink and zebra)

 

In The Time of Covid-19

When you get home after shopping for essential items (still no toilet paper - what the hell, Australia!) and greet fellow house occupiers (human or otherwise) with a smile and a wave and a 1.5 metre distance and you thoroughly wash your hands (with an extra chorus of "Happy Birthday", just to be sure) and then you can FINALLY touch that spot on your face that's been needing to be touched for the last 4 hours,

Walking through sparsely peopled shopping centres and worrying (or hoping) that you've been transported into classic zombie horror film Dawn of the Dead,

Being a high level introvert and not noticing too much difference between social isolation and normal life,

Being an introvert and feeling sympathy for extrovert humans who are more likely to struggle without the in-the-flesh social contact lifestyle - the internet is invaluable during this crisis but it's not a total replacement for 'actual' human contact, even for introverts,

Experiencing alarm that people are being told to wash hands after going to the bathroom - WASN'T THIS ALREADY HAPPENING?!?!,

Not feeling guilty for spending so much time playing video games - surely, in this extended time of having to stay home, passing copious hours lost in the worlds of Resident Evil or Tomb Raider is justified,

Wishing journalists and politicians would consult a thesaurus and find alternative words for 'unprecedented',

For example: extraordinary/unparalleled/unimaginable/freakish/novel/unique/holy guacamole,

Admitting that 'unprecedented' is probably the best adjective to describe this global pandemic.

The Hideous Tentacled Slime Beast

A recent, and mercifully short-lived, bout of existential loneliness seems to have been effectively curtailed. The soothing salves included port, marshmallows, tea, video games (Tomb Raider 3 and Silent Hill), sleep (replete with freaky dreams), and watching Slow TV (The Ghan: Australia's Greatest Train Journey).

Obviously, being afflicted with the malaise known as 'the human condition' - a condition which affects an overwhelming number of people - means that there is always the threat of existential loneliness (aka The Hideous Tentacled Slime Beast) brewing somewhere below the nebulous place known as 'the surface'. However, I find that as the years move inextricably by, and the sands of time slowly swallow and digest me (with their gritty grains that frequently get caught in painful and hard to reach places), it becomes easier to subdue (and, possibly, vanquish) The Hideous Tentacled Slime Beast.

Not that The Hideous Tentacled Slime Beast serves no purpose, and thus needs to be entirely obliterated from the human world. The presence of The Hideous Beast in the human psyche, with its seeping slime and its terrifying tentacles, seems to provide some kind of motivation; though the configurations this motivation takes can be myriad and obscure, and often with a tendency for destruction rather than construction.

Political Art

Art lovers, rejoice!
I have made a highly artistic and politically charged collage of all the pre-election campaign material I have received for tomorrow's glorious election:

Willow added her own interpretation:

Oh, Yeah...Another Year...

2011 mostly sucked. May 2012 suck less.


Meanwhile, Ms Willow Pussycat is VERY ADORABLE:

Things I've Observed Whilst Engaging in Casual Sex

• pretend intimacy
• a fine line between caressing and groping
• amplified grunts
• silence
• short term memory

(Actually, upon reflection, this list wouldn't be out of place in Things I've Observed Whilst Engaging in Sex With Partners.)

Existential Overload

Today is the first birthday of this blog. Happy Birthday Effulgent13!

And, on such a momentous occasion, I think it fitting, as a special treat to the millions of readers, from the four corners of the globe (or, at least, of this room), who devote so much of their precious time and energy to reading this ludicrous...erudite blog, to feature existentialism. And long-winded sentences.

I've just finished reading Nausea by Jean-Paul Sartre (he was an existentialist God! - irony unavoidable). I have no idea what the novel was about and yet, it spoke to me. I, too, have experienced "the Nausea", pretty much since birth. So I've selected a couple of passages I like from the novel to reprint (retype?).

The first passage is taken from a section of the novel where the protagonist, Antoine Roquentin, has completely lost it (his brain coherence), and is freaked out by a tree:

"Admittedly a movement was something different from a tree. But it was still an absolute. A thing. My eyes never met anything but repletion. There were swarms of existences at the end of the branches, existences which constantly renewed themselves and were never born." pg190

(existential trees used to frighten me as well)

The second passage is primal; after all, humans are just glorified animals:

"I started to look through books on display in the second-hand boxes, and especially, the obscene ones, because, in spite of everything, that occupies your mind." pg 220

(guilty!)

I don't think I'll become an existentialist. Or not completely. I believe my (physical) existence in this world is real (I'm assuming there are vast numbers of other worlds/dimensions) and it has an effect. I need to tread with caution, one wrong step and this world could melt. Or I could melt. I'm not afraid of melting, of being consumed by objects. But I'm not ready to melt just yet, I want to stay solid for as long as possible, to see what happens. I hope there isn't too much pain or humiliation or loneliness; then I might want to melt. It'll probably be boring, but I'm OK with boring.

Rarely am I bored

Due to my recent creation of the label "Bored Now", to go with my homage to Willow Rosenberg (fans of Buffy will understand the "Bored Now" reference), I've decided I need to write something else that can be filed under said label.

I find the notion of boredom interesting (surely that's an oxymoron). I think I have a reasonably high boredom threshold. I can spend hours by myself doing nothing and not feel "bored" - although when I say 'doing nothing', maybe stuffing around or daydreaming would be more accurate, which isn't exactly doing nothing. I've tried the Buddhist meditation technique of sitting still with an "empty" mind but I've not been very successful. But then I don't really believe it's something I need to do, in fact I'm not entirely sure why I tried it, perhaps to calm myself? But I can calm myself reasonably well, especially by stuffing around and daydreaming. I guess a thing can be boring if there's no motivation attached to it.

Times when I have felt bored are when I've been stuck in situations I'm unengaged with and from which I would like to remove myself, but cannot. Frustrated would be another useful word for such situations. If I have complete freedom I can always find something to engage me. But complete freedom comes at a cost. If, for example, I'm talking with/at someone (who I'll call Hieronymus) with unrelenting enthusiasm and verbosity about "The Brothers Karamazov", and Hieronymus isn't remotely interested (yeah, I know, it's unlikely that anyone would be uninterested in Karamazov, but it is a hypothetical situation) and is thus, incredibly bored, she has the FREEDOM to walk away and/or shout at me "For God's sake, will you stop talking about the fecking brothers Karamazov". Now, being that I'm very sensitive, I will mull over this for the rest of my life and, in all likelihood, never again talk to Hieronymus about "The Brothers Karamazov". And this would be a tragedy... for me, at least, probably not so much for Hieronymus. Uh...actually this probably wasn't a very good example, except to highlight that had Hieronymus acted in the expected and civilized way, endured her boredom and kept listening to me, even though her brain was beginning to cannibalize itself, there would not have been any shouting or bad language. AND Hieronymus might have learned something about an esoteric and antiquated topic, which may have been useful to her one day.

The workplace, of course, is a vast arena of potential boredom, and frustration, and anxiety - I seem to have gone slightly off topic. Although I think there are connections; being trapped with nothing to stimulate your mind can lead to unhealthy ruminations, which in turn can lead to anxiety. I guess the most likely workplace boredom scenario is being trapped doing a dull task. But "dull" is very subjective. There are some seemingly dull tasks that I quite like doing; I can't get enough of filling up the Gilson racks for purification (this will only make sense to people who work at my workplace or who have used a Gilson 215 liquid handler/injector automated system*), it soothes my obsessive-compulsive urges. My main workplace "boredom" is being trapped doing a task I can't do. "Trapped" seems to be a key theme running through this paragraph.

But the all-time, number one possibility for boredom is "social situations". It's fertile ground, for me anyway. I don't know if this is due to my being an introvert or that I have misanthropic tendencies - "misanthropic tendencies" sounds exciting (not at all boring!), certainly more exciting than "being an introvert". I think the problem is that I'm no longer motivated to be civil or engage in 'polite' conversation - which may explain why people don't invite me to parties anymore, and I don't always turn up when they do. I can usually cope in a social situation if I keep to the shadows and have an escape plan. But the one social situation for which there is no reprieve is a WEDDING. Nooooooooooooooooo! Literally stuck at a table with God-knows-who, forced to listen to drunken speeches and no possibility of escape until the bride and groom leave. Whoever invented weddings should be tortured - preferably at a wedding.

All in all, I think it's best for society that I've honed my hermit skills. And, potentially, these skills can benefit society (other than keeping my craziness out of the way). If society ever needs someone to be put into solitary confinement for an extended period of time, an introvert is the way to go. Or, if extroverts find themselves starting to be freaked out by the world (probably sometime in their mid-life), they can find solace by talking to an introvert (introverts tend to be good listeners). Plus, introverts have been freaked out by the world since birth, so we'll completely understand.


(I wonder if writing a boring blog entry about boredom is ironic?)



* Gilson 215 liquid handler/injector automated system:

Willow Rosenberg

It is necessary that I do a homage to my favourite character from"Buffy the Vampire Slayer". Here are a series of photos and screen shots of Willow (played by Alyson Hannigan) in her various incarnations:


High School

"...the softer side of Sears"



Superbrain and member of the Scooby Gang




Wishverse

"That's right puppy, Willow's gonna make you bark." (vamp-Willow)



"I believe these chicken feet are mine!"



"Who do you work for?" (vamp-Willow)



"Well look at me, I'm all fuzzy." (vamp-Willow)



"Would a human do this?"




College/Wiccan-Willow

Spurty Knowledge?



Willow and Tara do a spell




Power

"We've got maybe seconds before Darth Rosenberg grinds everybody into jawa burgers, and not one of you bunch has the midiclorians to stop her." (dark-Willow)



Goddess

Hermit

I’ve been hibernating inside my cave, with its eroded walls of brick and crevices of misty glass. And the strange furry creature I keep as my companion. And my introvert entity.

My introvert entity lingers just below my thoughts. Over the years it has surfaced, for short durations, at my instigation, and it was always welcomed. But for some years now it’s been my master. It is peaceful while I remain in my cave. But if I venture out it grows uneasy. If I go too far it becomes distressed. It shirks open spaces and crowded lanes. It yearns for protection of familiar objects. It is comforted by the non-sentient interaction of electronic equipment.

But I’ve been becoming restless, feeling confined. I’ve been pacing through my cave. I’ve knocked my head against lengthening stalactites, not realising how they’d grown. I’ve stomped through human dust (and animal fur), until I can no longer be inside. I need to be…

Outside. So I went outside. I travelled vast distances across unfamiliar plains. My introvert entity howled with pain and rage. But I paid it no heed. I blocked my ears and let it scream, until it fell limp with exhaustion. Then I wandered with unhinged freedom. People stared, I didn’t care.

But I couldn’t wander for too long. My introvert entity was only sleeping. Eventually it would wake. So I went back into my cave, tired but peaceful. My sleep was deep and full of restful dreams.

*

Introvert: Psychology; a person predominantly concerned with his or her own thoughts and feelings rather than with external things.

Hmmm. I find this definition somewhat black and white. You’re either examining yourself OR you’re examining everything other than yourself. It’s possible you could be examining your internal reaction to an external stimulus – which I imagine is a fairly common everyday experience for those born as humans. In fact, I think there isn’t currently enough of this. There’s a bit too much REACTING and not enough THINKING before reacting. Plus, I don’t like the implication of this definition that extroversion is better than introversion.

Then there’s gregarious (social – fond of company) or non-gregarious (anti-social – 1. contrary or harmful to the social order 2. not sociable). Hey, I’m fond of company, company I like that is – company I don’t like, well, lets just say definition 1 has some interesting connotations.

*

At the supermarket today the beautifully camp song "Lady in Red" by Chris de Burgh was playing (although it isn't in the camp league of "I've never been to me" by Charlene#). I was waiting for people to spontaneously start dancing in the aisles, and maybe even fall in love.


# I couldn't find the original video clip and the other versions didn't have the creepy talking in the middle of the song - which is possibly the best bit.

Banalities from my Life: Home, Work, Love and Karamazov

I hope my new neighbours in the front flat stay for awhile. The last tenants/ssssss kept changing every few months, eventually numbering about 15 people over a year. They were nice an’ all, but I found it unsettling not knowing who was living right next door to me (our front doors are very close – they’re practically married).

I’m inappropriately lusting after my married neighbour (speaking of married), who lives (with his wife!) in one of the flats on the other side of the building. My bouts of lust are sporadic. I only get to see him if I catch him putting clothes on the line or when he takes his bike out for a ride.

I live in a square block of 4 flats, 2 facing north and 2 facing south. I don’t see the people on the south side very often, but I can hear the people with whom I share a corridor wall. They are a family consisting of: one 40-something mother, one 20-something daughter, occasionally her identical twin sister, often the 20-something’s passionate, but obnoxious, boyfriend and another, pre-teen, daughter. And a pug-dog. In a compact 2-bedroom flat. And they fight a lot. All of them. Loudly and with bad words. Even the dog. I haven’t watched the Australian show “Packed to the Rafters”, but a much better and more realistic show would be one based on my neighbours.

The pre-teen daughter (I think she’s 10 or 11) tries to play with my cat. It would be nice if my cat would play with her, instead of running away – my cat is a little neurotic (much like her owner).

Sometimes, when I’m at work, I feel claustrophobic and experience a strong desire to run away.

Sometimes, when I’m at work, I’m bored shitless and feel a strong desire to run away and find something meaningful.

Sometimes, when I’m at work, I enjoy being bored and not having to run away or to think about meaningful things.

I keep finding myself attracted to men with idealistic views of romantic love

I keep finding myself attracted to men who won’t get involved in romantic love because they don’t want their idealism shattered.

I’m comfortable being on my own – this doesn’t make me evil – it does, however, make me a weird loner.

My maniacal plans for the destruction of planet earth are what make me evil.

I used to be sad that I didn’t have children. Now I’m slightly relieved:
-I don’t have the HUGE responsibility,
-I don’t have to worry that I’ve brought children into a world that seems to be racing into destruction (even without my maniacal plans),
-I don’t have to follow societies' “rules” quite so much,
-My attitude to this world is radically different, and much more comfortable, to what it was when I wanted children (although this may have alienated me from some people/friends)
-I have more time to work on my maniacal plans

My internal flame isn’t warming me the way it used to, it’s beginning to flicker and fade. I think it needs a new wick.

Karamazov count: page 16 - ahead of schedule - bonus.

Going to Work

Now that I’m back at work I need some kind of motivation to keep me going there - other than the threat of being fired or having no income – which are certainly persuasive motivations - but when my inertia and apathy levels are high enough, it’s possible not even disgrace or poverty will get me going.

I need to investigate other options. In the past I’ve found cognitive therapy (the glass is half-full not half-empty, so get over it!) to be very helpful when things got difficult. And when I say “cognitive therapy”, I don’t mean that I went and saw a specialist who has a qualification and has spent years training in this area and thus knows a lot of stuff which I don’t – no, no, no! I, Effulgent13, genius by my own proclamation, got some books on cognitive therapy from the library and read them. And thus I was cured. Well…thus I was more able to cope with things. I employed appropriate philosophies for dealing with various challenging situations. For example, if someone, who is very angry with me, is yelling at me, I deal with this by pretending they don’t exist (I believe it was Descartes who said: "You're yelling at me, therefore you don't exist"). Occasionally, with a particularly loud person, it’s necessary to block out sensory channels – closing my eyes, blocking my ears with my hands, even calling out “Mary had a little lamb” (go lambs) repeatedly until the yelling stops.

So, now what I need is a work philosophy (not to be confused with a work ethic, ‘cos that will never happen) in which I can believe. I need to “think” my way to work. Here is what I’ve come up with:

I like to think of ‘having to go to work’ as being very similar to ‘having to vomit’. Perhaps it seems an odd analogy, and a little yucky, but I think it’s the right one. Let me explain. Sometimes, when I’m lying in bed feeling queasy, I realise, instinctively, that vomit is going to happen. I get a similar feeling when it’s time to go to work. There is nothing I can do to stop it. Maybe I try to dissuade the vomit ('work') from its expulsive trajectory using creative psychology and stomach control techniques. But these tactics are mostly futile because here it comes! So I have 2 options: I can either 1) get up and go to the bathroom (ie 'go to work') and deal with it, or 2) stay in bed (ie 'not go to work') and mess all over my pillow and pyjamas and sheets, and probably, any animals or humans with whom I share the bed.

I assume most (sensible) people would choose option 1, but it’s certainly possible there are some who would find option 2 more appealing – I haven’t completely ruled it out myself; what’s the harm in a little vomit anyway, it’ll dry.

So that’s it. That’s the philosophy I’m currently using to get me to go to work. Yep. My mastery of cognitive therapy is outstanding…effective… although…I have been pondering a slightly different tact…’going to work’ is like ‘going somewhere really fun and having the best time ever and eating ice-cream all day’…of course…too much ice-cream can make you queasy…

I apologize to anyone who was eating while reading this, and for my moroseness (which is not to be confused with ‘mooseness’). And, to make it all better, I offer this:

Jitterbug