Usually I don't share things like this, but I am in love with the senseless violence. And the staring.
One thing I noticed recently is that when I get stressed or annoyed, it actually helps to imagine small acts of violence, like sneaking up behind people and slitting their throat. I know everyone else must do this as well. Isn't that odd? That we can find violence so comforting? I wonder what in our evolutionary development prompted that little quirk.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Do sociopaths know they are sociopaths?
This is a question I have been getting a lot recently. The short answer is yes, sociopaths are generally aware that they are sociopaths. This is one of the differences between sociopaths and narcissists. Sociopaths know they are different from other people, but can force themselves to think and act like a neurotypical person. Narcissists think they think and feel the same as other people (just better) and are consequently less able to alter their behavior, even if it would be in their best interest (compare, narcissists, who really struggle with this).
The longer answer is that it may take a while for sociopaths to learn that everyone else is not like them. Most young children have sociopathic-esque tendencies: self-centeredness, lack of empathy, lack of consideration for others, dominant primal emotions, etc. It may not be immediately obvious to sociopathic youngsters when and if their peers have progressed past these "limitations" on their way to emotional maturity.
Meanwhile, the sociopath is undergoing his own changes. The sociopath is gaining a greater understanding of self. High functioning sociopaths learn that not only can they manipulate others, they can also manipulate themselves. This self manipulation can perform the same function as self control.
After the sociopath acquires greater self knowledge and self mastery, he may still be unaware that he is different. Instead, he may assume that other humans have just completed their own similar transformation. When the sociopath learns that he is the only one like him, it can be disappointing. It can be exhilarating too, but it will always be lonely. Not like most sociopaths mind (at least most of the time).
The longer answer is that it may take a while for sociopaths to learn that everyone else is not like them. Most young children have sociopathic-esque tendencies: self-centeredness, lack of empathy, lack of consideration for others, dominant primal emotions, etc. It may not be immediately obvious to sociopathic youngsters when and if their peers have progressed past these "limitations" on their way to emotional maturity.
Meanwhile, the sociopath is undergoing his own changes. The sociopath is gaining a greater understanding of self. High functioning sociopaths learn that not only can they manipulate others, they can also manipulate themselves. This self manipulation can perform the same function as self control.
After the sociopath acquires greater self knowledge and self mastery, he may still be unaware that he is different. Instead, he may assume that other humans have just completed their own similar transformation. When the sociopath learns that he is the only one like him, it can be disappointing. It can be exhilarating too, but it will always be lonely. Not like most sociopaths mind (at least most of the time).
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Beauty
I have always sought out beauty. I grew up in a superficial culture in a superficial family, absorbing its standards of visible aesthetic appeal as a matter of heritage. As I learned more about the world, I began to understand that there is a beauty beyond those things skin deep. I learned to appreciate the beauty of the way things worked--the complexity of life. I was a voracious reader, initially deriving pleasure from the general narrative or the descriptions of new places or adventures. At one point in my late teens, however, I learned to appreciate that books also portrayed the inner worlds of people whose minds, though not often like mine, were like people I knew or would meet. When I learned that, people became very beautiful to me as well, not just their bodies or their wit.
I was so captivated by beauty during this time period. I still am, but back then it I was very overt about it. At one point I had three explicit goals in life: to notice everything, to appreciate the beauty in everything, and to be the perfect friend (this was, of course, before I was self-aware). All three reflected my burgeoning fascination with all things living and beautiful--my constantly awakening senses and awareness to the world around me. It was as if I had lived in two dimensions all my life ("me" and "not me") and now I was suddenly aware of the infinite complexity of the world. I was giddy, drunk on each new discovery.
With beauty on my mind, it's no surprise I chose to study music at university. One thing that I loved about studying music is that every day I could relate to other musicians in (seemingly) every way--a frequency that I had never experienced before and never have since. One story sticks out in my mind. I was in a jazz related class and the professor was talking about voicing particular chords, i.e. which notes of the chord go where in the range of the instrument and in which order to each other. The professor started waxing on about a particular pianist who had the most beautiful, organic voicings--voicings that could take a typical chord progression and make it sound utterly novel due solely to effective voicing choices. The professor was going on about this pianist for several minutes and what made the voicings so special without using the name of the pianist. He could have been talking about any of a million people--Bill Evans, Oscar Peterson, Duke Ellington being the typical favorite examples of this particular professor, but for some reason I just knew that he was talking about Carole King. It was a weird intuition, we were in a jazz class (Carole King is a folk musician), the professor was quite old, and Carole King is not even really known for being a pianist, but I was right.
There were many instances like this where I felt completely in sync with fellow musicians. Every day I connected with my fellow musicians in ways that I often miss, now that music has taken a back seat to other pursuits. Studying music was a blissful respite from the real world, from having to pretend all the time. (Musicians are perverse anyway, as is music, which consists primarily of setting up expectations and then playing with people's expectations--very manipulative, very teleological).
I think this obsession with beauty heavily influenced the way my value system evolved. It's hard to imagine what I would be like if I hadn't gone through that obsessive phase. For better or for worse, I think that the pursuit of beauty and study of music shielded me from certain harsh truths about myself that I wouldn't have to confront until graduate school, when I finally realized to what extent I was different from my peers. I still use beauty and music as a daily escape from humanity.*
*Although humans are the origin of a lot that I find beautiful, they don't have a monopoly on it. Also truth and beauty have a certain transcendent quality to them that never really smacks of being something inherently human to me.
I was so captivated by beauty during this time period. I still am, but back then it I was very overt about it. At one point I had three explicit goals in life: to notice everything, to appreciate the beauty in everything, and to be the perfect friend (this was, of course, before I was self-aware). All three reflected my burgeoning fascination with all things living and beautiful--my constantly awakening senses and awareness to the world around me. It was as if I had lived in two dimensions all my life ("me" and "not me") and now I was suddenly aware of the infinite complexity of the world. I was giddy, drunk on each new discovery.
With beauty on my mind, it's no surprise I chose to study music at university. One thing that I loved about studying music is that every day I could relate to other musicians in (seemingly) every way--a frequency that I had never experienced before and never have since. One story sticks out in my mind. I was in a jazz related class and the professor was talking about voicing particular chords, i.e. which notes of the chord go where in the range of the instrument and in which order to each other. The professor started waxing on about a particular pianist who had the most beautiful, organic voicings--voicings that could take a typical chord progression and make it sound utterly novel due solely to effective voicing choices. The professor was going on about this pianist for several minutes and what made the voicings so special without using the name of the pianist. He could have been talking about any of a million people--Bill Evans, Oscar Peterson, Duke Ellington being the typical favorite examples of this particular professor, but for some reason I just knew that he was talking about Carole King. It was a weird intuition, we were in a jazz class (Carole King is a folk musician), the professor was quite old, and Carole King is not even really known for being a pianist, but I was right.
There were many instances like this where I felt completely in sync with fellow musicians. Every day I connected with my fellow musicians in ways that I often miss, now that music has taken a back seat to other pursuits. Studying music was a blissful respite from the real world, from having to pretend all the time. (Musicians are perverse anyway, as is music, which consists primarily of setting up expectations and then playing with people's expectations--very manipulative, very teleological).
I think this obsession with beauty heavily influenced the way my value system evolved. It's hard to imagine what I would be like if I hadn't gone through that obsessive phase. For better or for worse, I think that the pursuit of beauty and study of music shielded me from certain harsh truths about myself that I wouldn't have to confront until graduate school, when I finally realized to what extent I was different from my peers. I still use beauty and music as a daily escape from humanity.*
(Carole King has beautiful vocal phrasing, as well as the aforementioned idiosyncratic piano voicing.)
Friday, December 2, 2011
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