Posts Tagged ‘analysis’

There’s a saying somewhere that says, “Hind sight is always 20-20”, and I’m sure we’ve all taken it as meaning that everything makes sense once you look back on it.  But, I’ve come to disagree over the past semester.  Just how it’s said that there are some things that you can’t learn from text books, my opinion differs.  For a matter of fact, hind sight can’t tell you everything you wanted to know, but you can most certainly get help in figuring out these things from a text book.

It’s just that said event must be analysed in order to be understood, and this text book must be for psychology.

Yes, get ready for another psychological analysis.  It will be lengthy, but you can skip the bits about my life history.  They have details that I will recall later, but some of it has been talked about before.


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I fully realise that no one looks at what I’m writing, and that doesn’t necessarily bother me. I write for me, for my own personal enjoyment and well-being, and because there are so many things to write. It’s why I’ve kept a diary since freshman year of high school and have filled thousands of pages. No one will ever read those stories and traumas and ideas, but they’re noted down because they represent a portion of who I was and who I am. That’s why blogging for an empty audience is appealing. I can type, which is much faster than my detailed cursive, and I can still write for me.

When writing for an audience, you don’t tell the truth, either. It’s like how, when psychologists are doing studies on people, they try to make everything blind, including themselves. That way, they don’t look for things that aren’t there or try unconsciously influence their study subjects. Well, writing for an audience is similar. You change styles and try to make things different in order to be better liked or received. And that just doesn’t seem very fair to myself, and I like being fair to myself since I feel that I have a very unique and amazing relationship with me.

I don’t necessarily mind if people read this. Truly. I just prefer to write as though there is no audience, even if the style and talking sounds as if I’m speaking to an audience of the like-minded. And let me clear that. I write as if speaking to a great audience (and it’s the same way as in my diaries), but I like to think that the subject matter is uninfluenced by an actual, watching audience. It makes little sense outside of my head; terribly sorry. Just another example of the connection I have with myself that doesn’t quite translate into the material world.

Sometimes I wonder if everyone has that kind of relationship with themselves. If everyone learns about themselves and works with it. Or, if other people are just shells, walking along, following, moving through the steps. Yes, I don’t doubt that we all think and have conversations with ourselves in our heads, but I sometimes wonder just how strong of a relationship we have between soul and mind. Or between mind and mind. I don’t always know which is correct when talking about this subject. But maybe this is all the psychologist in me.

I’m outside right now, sitting in the middle of the quad, under the cover of an oak tree and a maple. Truman’s campus is beautiful, as is the weather of Kirksville during the fall, and other students are taking the same opportunity as I am to enjoy the last moments of sun before the infamous midwest winter comes to play. They’re sitting on blankets, tapping their pens on notebooks, reading, talking, typing. I start to wonder what makes them… them.

There’s a girl lying next to her friend about one hundred feet from me. She’s a hard-core lesbian and makes it known to everyone on campus. I don’t mind this; I admire her strength. One doesn’t have to share a similar view-point to find something amiable about another. The girl beside her is chatting. She is very liberal. Again, I don’t mind this. I like people to believe in something, even if it’s not exactly the same as me. A young man walks passed holding his art supplies and a cigarette. My eyes squint and nose wrinkles at the smell, but it’s not my right to think ill of him. There’s a girl sitting beneath a tree and staring off into space. I start to wonder if she’s thinking the same things that I am. Or who she is. I wonder why she stares as opposed to the four people on cell phones who move their heads but don’t see anything. And, all the while, I can’t help but analyse people. Why does she sit with that posture? Why did he look awkward while sitting on that bench? Why does he turn his head to look behind him every couple of seconds? What are we and why are we? Are we all vast minds, trapped in shells. Or are only some people trapped? Or are only some people empty?

These are too many questions for a Thursday afternoon. But, if they aren’t asked now, when?

And, for the record, when I analyse people, it’s not judging. Judging people for what they like or how they do things is backwards. Judge character. Judge kindness. Judge who they really are, not just reputation. You’ll find it much easier to get along with people who are different from you.

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