Codesmith

Life, Or Something Like It
2004-03-28 10:15:51 (UTC)

Addicted to Posting on Forums

It's 350am. It hit about 65 degrees fahrenheit yesterday
in the morning. It would seem Spring is here.

I had an entry yesterday, but I never got around to
posting it. Actually, I never got around to finishing it.

It's now a good 23 hours later, and I am here once again
writing ... here. It's late. And yet, I am not tired in
the least. The caffeine keeps me awake, and my depression
urges me to keep alert. Or rather, to not care that I am
tired. It's almost the same thing.

I have for the past few days been spending hours upon
hours posting to this online forum. At first, I thought
maybe it was a good idea to find an outlet through which
to pour my ideas through. Well, more accurately, an outlet
to pour my ego into. It has been, needless to say, very
exhausting. Especially when arguing with someone about
something incredibly petty.

I started arguing about evolution with someone. I don't
know why I did. Well, I know why. I am egoistic in my
abilities. I took a stance I knew that I could not
defend... which was that Creationism was correct. Of
course, I was asking to be attacked, and that is exactly
what I received.

There's something perverse in me that feels the need to
anger another individual. To see them get upset by the
words they post. It gives me pleasure when they insult me,
for I know that I affected them in such a way for them to
lose control. And, I can do it so well.

Needless to say, I was stuck in an age old debate
regarding Creationism and Evolution, from which I knew all
the little arguments to use in pro and con for both sides.
Traditionally theres no real way to defend Creationism in
debate. It depends on your opponent. If your opponent is
emotional, then it's easy to turn the debate on them, and
force them to lose focus of the situation. If you can't
then you have to claim a middleground, for that is as best
as you can ever make it in a Creation vs Evolution debate.
To claim that Evolution, a topic of science, which is in
turn a discipline based on empirical observation can not
prove or disprove Creationism. There is no way to prove
that there was a God or is a God.

In retrospect, I don't really know why I entered that
debate. Oh that's right. Ego.

So I finished writing to my Mentor. I am sure that girl at
the Mentor program will be happy about that. She's a
cutey. Interestingly enough her name is Lisa. Red hair,
green eyes... yum. She also has the most interesting last
name, that I can't pronounce. I think it might be Slavic
in origin. But definitely she's a hottie.

Well, I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't have written to my
mentor. Then Lisa would have kept emailing me to write,
and I would have probably been able to establish dialogue
with her.

I wrote to my mentor at around 420am. So that in itself
lends some credence to my claim that I have been swamped
with work. Although, ... I really have been.

I love to argue. Especially about things I know are
impossible to defend. I'm not really sure why. I suppose,
if I had to explain or theorize... it would be this. I am
egoistic and quite confident in my abilities. Perhaps
almost to the point of arrogancy. ... Yet there are things
which I can not control. Certain aspects of my life, that
no matter how well I do physically, intellectually, or
emotionally... I can never quite change how someone feels
towards me. I realize now, that it's impossible for me to
ever change someone or influence someone's thoughts as
easily as I can change mine. Well, I can certinaly
influence it. But I can't ever gurantee change. And when
it comes to things that I want to change, ... more often
than not, I fail.

I suppose in a more general way, I've finally accepted the
notion that I am not all powerful. That I am not nearly
like god. I am so incredibly far from it.

To argue a position you have no chance of winning... to be
put in an impossible situation... to then win through
cunning alone... It makes me feel as if I am just good
enough, I can change my circumstances. I can make the
impossible, possible.

So far if winning arguments brought me closer to godhood,
then I would be god already with change left over. Yet,
for all it's worth, I am still depressed.

The irony is that in a small way I've been doing this my
whole life. Trying to get just a little bit better, solve
that last problem, understand that last theorem, help that
one person, ... It's as if I'm doing pennance.

I'm seeking acceptance.

I think I even know where I get this desire to be
accepted.

My father, was never really around when I was growing up.
He was like a stranger to me that was with us every now
and then. A few weeks then he was off on another buisness
trip. When he was here, he was working at his desk in the
living room.

This one time, he was trying to teach my sister and I how
to do fractions. I did know how to do fractions already,
but he was teaching us a faster way to do fractions. I
didn't really use his method that well. My sister caught
on faster than I did, and my father seemed to be pleased
with that. But not with my efforts. He used this abacus
thing, ... to hold values of calculations he did. He
rarely used a calculator as all his calculations were done
in his head. He could perform multiplication pretty fast.
I think even three digit by three digit. Definitely two by
two. But anyway.

I wanted to him to teach me how to use the abacus, but
when I asked him he said that I wasn't ready for it. But
he did teach my sister how to use it. I remember feeling
hurt. Left out. That I wasn't good enough for him. That I
his only son, wasn't good enough for it. I waited. And I
waited till he thought I was good enough. That time never
came, for apparently he must have thought I would never be
good enough. Actually. He did try to teach me once. But he
gave up on me after a few minutes.

I think this is where I acquired my perfectionist attitude
from... this sense of needing to be desperately accepted.
To be accepted as good enough for him to teach me
something.. anything. Just at least.. something.

I asked him one day for help on how to do a math problem
from one of my text books. It was some sort of algebraic
equation dealing with some high degree polynomial. He took
a look at it, and he said he couldn't do problems like
that. It's then I knew that I had become more knowledgable
than him. It was a bitter sweet sort of triumph. For on
the one hand, I knew that I had become... more
knowledgable than he was. A trait that most fathers want
of their sons. To be better than them. Yet, on the other
hand, ... I got there without him. Not that he couldn't
help me there. He just didn't.

I suppose in a weird sort of way... that's an ideal
method. It spurns a kind of drive to want to become
better. Although, I can certainly see how it would do the
exact opposite in other people.

It's this pushing me away that made me who I am today.
Confident, strong, resilient, intelligent, and cunning.
Yet... it also made me... I think... a little
dysfunctional. I can't seem to find any peace.

In most situations, the most ideal solution would be to
talk with the person who made you feel this way and work
it out through discussion.

The problem here, is that this has become so a part of
me... entwined me so deeply into my structure, that I
don't want any reconcillation. I need my pain. It's what
makes me what I am. And what I am is not weak. And yet, I
want to stop this pain.. but to stop this pain would mean
becoming weak. To talk with my father, and to reconcile
what happened those many many years ago. A part of me
doesn't want to. It wants to keep this pain. It's so much
a part of my identity, ... it's as if you were asking me
to voluntarily submit to a removal of cereberal cortex. I
just can't.

My life is full of ironies. This is just one of them.

Lisa said something hurtful to me the other day. It really
did hurt me. But I hid the fact it did. I can do that so
well. They should really start screening who takes
psychology classes.

I guess I should be thankful. At least I can actually feel
something. At least I know that I can feel something. I've
almost forgotten how badly it hurts inside. What it
actually feels like... As if something deep inside you is
contracting and shaking in pain. It's an undescribable
physical pain, made manifest through emotional issues. The
pain is sort of situated near the heart, but not quite.
Maybe the pain is where the soul is. If there is such a
thing.

I suppose this is what I get for drinking when depressed.
I think I'll turn in for the night.




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