The elusive search for something other...

You can't look for something you've never known. Every search in life hints at something lost in the first place.

Whatever I'm looking for, however 'other', it is something I know or have lost. Whatever it is we're looking for, we're looking for something we know, or something to be found again.

From time to time I wake up in the morning with a strange question floating inside my head. This morning I opened my bleary eyes, yawning and stretching, and all I kept thinking about was the notion of 'expanding universe'. I lay my head back against the pillows, trying to picture a sense of what an expanding universe 'looks' like - what it meant in concrete terms.

As I kept trying to find a way to 'picture' the meaning of a term so elusive in essence, the Internet and its myriad of data added to it every single minute of the day or so, came to mind. Suddenly I found it easier to 'picture' concretely what an expanding universe really is about rather than remain vaguely aware of a notion with no way of being able to 'see' it for myself.

It made me wonder if such technological advances weren't inspired by discoveries of how the universe itself works. After discovering that the universe wasn't the closed-up ball we thought it was, the idea that 'things' could somehow perpetually 'expand' ad infinitum must have inspired quite a few brains out there.

If the universe is ever-expanding, then so must all others things on a micro level - or the possibility to make it so. Arguably, even the mind is in itself nothing short of a universe within all of its own. Sometimes I look at computers and all the advances we've made, and it feels strangely like looking at a world of brains inside out.

Ghost World

It's strange how suddenly things can change, how one tiny factor can lead to a stark bifurcation later down the road and so on, and so on.

Just as I was preparing myself to quit my job, I got promoted. It just came out of the blue the other day. I was handed a white envelop and the good news had no effects whatsoever on my mood. I remained feeling rather low and dejected in general. At last my hard work had been rewarded, I guess. But what this also showed me is how much this is all I really have in life to fill the days of my existence.

I remember how hard it was at first to get used to the daily routine. The office hours would often end up feeling like an insufferable eternity, especially after lunch time. Nowadays, I just lose myself in the work and all the most complicated stuff that eludes me, and before I know it, it's time to go home. I get back home and the same routine awaits me. A well-acquainted solitude with myself, a few words thrown on screen, perhaps a few pages read from a book, and then sleep.

Sometimes I even find myself looking forward to the next day to finish what I couldn't complete at work the same day. It's become... something to look forward to, in some strange way. But beyond that it's also become my only stable activity.

Work, no matter how mind-numbing or stressful, has got to be better than facing a life of almost complete social isolation. I am one of these people who, strictly speaking, have 'no life'. It makes me wonder how many of us are out there. Probably more than I would dare imagine. We, over-achievers and perfectionists who only have work to lose ourselves in because for some reason or other we just never seem to fit in anywhere and we never seem able to develop relationships with others for long or even at all. Human focus and ambitions have to go somewhere, after all.

My hatred of money has become more of an acceptance of its necessity overall, and I see earning a living more like collecting pieces of paper that allow me to sustain a modest lifestyle. Just like everyone else. I guess in my solitude I could develop greater spending habits to cheer myself up, but even that has become rather redundant. I can't find the motivation to do anything but follow my daily routine of work-home-sleep like a good human robot.

I find myself sometimes reminiscing how foolishly idealistic I used to be and all I can do is shake my head in disbelief. Perhaps my idealism wasn't so flawed, but it was always doomed, and it's funny how we can never see it at the time. It takes 'facing reality' to realise it.

Truth vs Lies

Saving people... you can't. No one can but themselves. I'll never go back on that one, I don't think. I've seen it tried too many times, and I've seen it fail or backfire just as many times.

When it wasn't my uncle, it was his son. When it wasn't my uncle or his son, it was my grand-mother, and when it wasn't her it was one of my aunts. Tonight I didn't keep quiet. When my mother's latest pet project was to 'save' yet another human being I told her to stop and look at herself. I told her she was just as lost and messed up as the very person she was intent on saving now. I told her all that and she fell silent.

I see things in others that hurt when I tell them as it is. So now, more often than not I just keep quiet and say nothing. I let them believe in their delusions because I really do not know what is best anymore. Truth? Is it really better than believing in a lie that makes you feel better, especially if that lie is about how you see yourself and justify your actions?

I have seen some truths about myself, I have seen some seriously dark sides and I wonder. Was it worth it? To myself, yes it was and always will be. But in general? Would I wish this quest I have with my own self on anyone else - what would be my advice to others? Would my advice be to seek your self or to remain ignorant?

Right now, it would have to be the latter. Ignorance is the illusion of serenity. One could spend their entire existence bathed in it and never know any better. They would die the illusion of a serene man, wouldn't they? Because it's all about what we make ourselves believe in. What's the difference, really, between the illusion of something and the real deal?

Pain. If it still hurts then it must be real. That's my only clue forward.

If I try to think back on my early 20s it's all mostly a blur, but I can draw some particular instances from the dark recesses of my mind with some focused effort on my part.

Why does it matter? I just don't understand how a person can change so much - myself - inside. This impression of 'change' may well be a mere illusion; after all, people who've known me since childhood often say 'I haven't changed', but there's only a couple of people who know me from that far back in time, and it's easy enough to put up a front even as everything within has been transformed. Transformed, broken, whichever.

I think what I'm mostly feeling is the loss of possibilities that faded away with time as I continued down a different path - yet at the time I had no clue. I could never have guessed that my early choices, if they can be called as such, would lead me to literally atrophy most of my initial personality, or the one that was starting to be shaped into but that got de-constructed, in a way.

After spending most of my early 20s in some sort of mental 'coma', I woke up to find my whole person in pieces - mentally and to an extent even physically. Whoever I was before that 'coma', it was nowhere to be found by the time I did wake up - by the time I finally decided to live life.

It's like... a total of around seven years of my existence was put on pause, and by the time I hit the resume button, it felt like the most painful slap in the face. While my whole life had 'paused', that of others that gone on. The worst part was that I couldn't even resume from where I'd left off. I couldn't just resume life back from the exact point when I shut down in the first place. No... I had to resume 'living' exactly from the point of awakening, leaving me to face a broken self that had missed so much reality factors that it felt, and still feels, like an alien world I'm travelling through.

It's hard to relate to the person I used to be. My only stable anchor point for now is all the way back to my teenage years. It's the equivalent of my last 'system back-up', in more ways than one.

It's hard to remember a version of yourself that could have turned out so differently from the broken version you're now forced to operate. It's... painful. How painful to remember abilities you had, which you no longer have. Is it really possible to atrophy one's own traits and abilities to the point where you end up staring at a completely different version of you?

It must be possible, of course. We either better ourselves through life or we get worse. Pausing existence delays the process, but it doesn't prevent it. Ultimately, we'll either get better, or worse versions of our own selves.

The world, our environment, including people, shape us from the start. Whoever 'we' are in essence is merely a bundle of possibilities and that number of possibilities is slowly eroded along the way by the environment and the people around us. That seems to be the basic, most inevitable rule of existence making us 'who we are' in the end.

Now living mostly like a social recluse unable to form bonds with most people, unable to cope in most social situations - to the point where anxiety becomes so great that I have to leave such situations - it is a rather odd and bittersweet experience to remember a time when I wasn't like that. I always stood out no matter what I did. I'm the sort of person walking into a room that people will remember whether I utter a word or not and I never quite understood why. It never made sense to me that I should stand out so much in the midst of strangers, for instance. I was also always the sort of person you either love or can't stand. Rarely is there room for some in-between, my person always seems to trigger a reaction pertaining to one extreme or the other. Perhaps it is the same for everyone else.

I'm mostly horrified at my loss of social skills these days. How does someone who used to be capable of socialising with others becomes so utterly incapable, to the point where she's now developing social anxiety the more she makes the effort to force-reboot that ability she knows she used to have? Of course, I suppose it doesn't help that the instances in which I force myself to be social happen to involve mostly people I just cannot relate to at all. I can't relate to the people I work with, for instance, to the point where I sometimes wonder if they're even real. I feel so much like I'm immersed in the middle of hostile ground that I can't relax and I certainly can't connect with them.

My lack of engagement is certainly at fault. I don't open up or share random facts of my personal life with others. People in social situations love just that. They talk about what they like, what they don't like, what they've been up to last weekend and what they're planning next, etc. They tell you about their latest drama with their partner, how their kids have been acting like monsters, their latest exotic holiday trip.... I nod and listen, but have no desire to take part. I have nothing to say. But they make you. They probe you and poke you with questions to 'find out' more about you, and I don't cooperate. Everyone does it, everyone I've ever met does it. They ask you all these personal questions to find out about you, get a sense of who you are, and perhaps that is a basic necessity for human bonding, but I never seem to cooperate with that process. For me it feels as though people are prying, forcing their way inside my head to figure out who I 'must' be and from there draw their own little conclusions that will lead them to either like me or loathe me, or remain indifferent.

So I don't cooperate, but people insist, so what do I end up telling them? Lies. I just lie, make things up, or sometimes I just embellish the truth. It's almost never a problem, because most people never get close to me, but a few people did turn out to be good friends along the way and my lies led to friendships based on fabrications of facts - not of my person herself, but the facts of my life.

One of my closest friends thinks I have a sister. We had met years ago at some workplace, and at first she, too, was just a stranger among others. Everyone is always asking you questions, wanting to know your life, and she was lost in the midst of all these other people asking questions. The lie of me having a sister sprung out of my mouth before I knew it, and since then I could only keep up with it. To make things easier - to avoid having to lie to her any more than I already had on my circumstances - I told her that sister had moved abroad and we weren't in good terms. I hinted at painful circumstances that usually make people mindful to not pry further. But still, once you've started making up lies about your circumstances, it takes a life of its own in other people's head, and it seems rather impossible to undo it.

I have another close friend whose vision of me is based mostly on lies. We used to go to school together and she is the only childhood friend I have, a friend from my former life. A couple of years after I disappeared overnight I got back in touch with her, but the contrast between our lives was so great that I couldn't tell her the truth when she asked me why I'd disappeared. I couldn't tell her: "My mum just decided to leave everything behind and start over. We ended up with nothing and nowhere to go, and even right now, as I stand in front of you in the comfort of the posh boarding school in which your parents placed you, I still have no clue what's going to happen to me next."

I couldn't tell her. So I lied. I made up stories just enough to satisfy her queries, for her to build a sense of me now. But these lies, these lies I couldn't avoid at the time because the truth was just too painful to utter, I still have to live with them today. As we met recently, she said something that made me all the more aware of the intricate web of consequences lies can spawn in your wake, and how lies can just as easily as truth can, allow people to build whatever image of you in their heads.

She said to me: "Aliska, you're so strong."

Me, chuckling: "Me? What makes you think that??"

And then she proceeded to mention all the made-up facts I'd told her and which were the basis of her conclusion - of her concluding I must be so strong and triggering her admiration. All I could think of then was that everything she thought of me was not real. Everything she thought of me was based on an illusion. Whatever representation she has of me, it's based on the deepest illusion of all: lies.

Sometimes I find myself fantasising that I sit down with these close friends of mine and tell them the truth, trying to explain how it all happened... but in the cold light of reality it would never hold. If you allow others to believe in lies long enough, shattering those lies is like shattering everything they've come to know you as within them. It shows them one core aspect of you, the fact that you are a liar, a deceiver, a fraud.

And that, I must be. I am. The reason why I hate illusions and all the things I happen to hate about the world... everything I feel so strongly against... I feel so strongly against all this because... all these things I hate or can't stand are like a direct reflection of who I am.

And from this there can be no turning back. It says it all on a much deeper level than I could ever imagine.

Release

As I spend most of my days sitting at a desk to stare at a computer screen - when I'm not on the phone asking questions whose meaning often eludes me - I got into the habit of observing more intently around me. I observe social dynamics and attempt to decipher the all-elusive aspects of office politics.

Needless to say, I remain mostly none the wiser.

I finished reading a book I actually started reading over a year ago. I kept reading a page here and there, but as I happened to travel more frequently in the past few days I finally managed to finish it in a couple of sittings by carrying it along with me.

It's a story that depicts the follies of a delusional man, and it left sort of a bitter taste in the back of my throat because during my times of more intense social isolation I have found myself flirting with these types of delusional symptoms.

Finishing that book felt like a slap in the face, in a way. It hurt because it's just not easy at all to stare at some of your darkest sides.

It stirred old memories I'd rather put to rest... and as I faced the darkness within and felt its burning imprint inside my brain, I suddenly pictured myself in the middle of a large, green meadow. I was standing in the middle of that vast space and releasing a balloon into the air... and as I watched the balloon float away into the seemingly infinite blue sky, it was as though I was watching the release from madness itself. And I thought, deep down within myself, that the image of a balloon being released from one's grip ought to be exactly what it feels like when one is finally letting go.

The feeling is almost impossible to describe... It has to be experienced.

There is a side of my self I've only recently started to dwell on, and that side I can only call 'secretive' for lack of better words. But secretive, that I am 100% verging on the paranoid type at times. I can't help being secretive... it's really in my nature. Perhaps that's why cats tend to like me, eh.

I suppose the secretive tendency is made worse by an over-thinking and analytic mind. It didn't occur to me that most women are likely to suffer from a bad case of 'over-thinking' at one point or other, sometimes throughout their existence, until I read some half-penny studies on the subject - ok, I Googled it and read various articles on this. You know, the whole lying in bed at night, unable to think because your mind keeps going over the most minute details of a particular occurrence... I get that not just at night, I get that pretty much 24/7, and sometimes my head feels like a relentless thinking machine. I'd picture it best as the equivalent of a vast room full of overflowing drawers everywhere, but there must be some method to the madness of that 'room', for a part of me seems quite comfortable sifting through it all at her own pace.

Perhaps all the writing of thoughts is but a mere symptom of this. It's like... someone forgot to turn off the tap, or something. The continual flow feels mostly wonderful now, but I used to struggle far more with it when I was unable to control better the type of deeper thoughts I'd get into 24/7. The worst one always had to do with other people. I still find it hard to stop myself from over-analysing others and my own interactions with them. What's been helping me somewhat is the reminder that most people aren't worth over-analysing at all because most people just don't dwell on anything much except their own selves.

There's a brooding sky outside and rain has started knocking gently against my window but I won't let it in.

For the past year I've been observing more attentively people around me, especially at work. Journalists nowadays are mostly like bankers on the poor side when it comes to studying their temperament and main traits. They can be viciously competitive, ready to backstab you to get ahead and other niceties.

I've come to realise that I don't actually mind competition, since it must be in our nature. What I've come to truly dislike is the realisation that most competitive individuals are actually idiots who pretend that they know better - they are able to build up this front that makes them look like they're good at something if not even experts in some given field when in reality it's all devoid of true substance.

I've mentioned before, I think, the difference between a competitive nature and opportunism. There's a fine line between the two and the worst offenders are the competitive opportunist types - and they've become a rampant type in today's society courtesy of a hybrid-like capitalist ideology. I say hybrid-like because this capitalistic system is also supposed to incorporate variants of what we call democracy and other ideals. Within a capitalistic framework, democracy has become something akin to an industry rather than an ideal to be upheld - funny that this expression, 'democracy industry', was coined by a Russian media outlet.

I know I have a secretive nature because I have this really deep dislike in terms of unveiling anything personal about myself on a social level. I can only really do it from the 'safety' of social anonymity. The idea that anyone could get inside my head and link that to my social persona is enough to give me nightmares that will keep me up at night. There's probably an element of some survival instinct at play, here. If you think about it, unveiling yourself in the most honest way is the equivalent of exposing flaws and weaknesses - something that will always be exploited by the opportunist type.

If I were character in a book, I'd be the type of character people dislike, and it wouldn't even have to be because that character is doing reprehensible things on a so-called moral level. I'm starting to think that when you happen to be not only secretive but also solitary, brooding and generally keen on avoiding social contact or unable to create connections on a social level with most people because they come across to you like some weird alien race, the best thing to do may be to create a social persona that fits the bill. Just... own up to the facts that make you in the eyes of others at least.

In other words, since people see me as aloof, arrogant, strange, perhaps even dangerous on a competitive level (I see a flash of deep mistrust towards me quite often in people, especially when I happen to be doing something really well, like in my job) then maybe I can build up on that. If I can't be liked, perhaps I can be feared? It doesn't really matter what the reality of things are - this world is all about how you come across to others. If they believe the front, they believe in that version of you and that's all that matters.

The only way is Social

I've come to believe rather firmly that human beings cannot possibly strive and remain sound of mind within the context of social isolation - that is, if the person first developed within a social context. It would be different for those human beings who never socially interacted with others from the start or from so early on that they didn't have time to develop social/Man-like capabilities such as human language (see the case of feral children).

The more socially isolated one grows, the more one's visions, perceptions and even worldview will become warped and distorted to the point of delusions, depression and other mental disorders. The moment Man is tamed, social isolation becomes one of the greatest risks to his wellbeing, to the point of becoming one of the greatest threats to his own life.

We could even extend that to small groups and even what we call 'communities', in the sense that very tight-knit communities do also experience the same sort of symptoms as someone completely isolated on an individual level (ever lived in a small village, for instance?). The tightly-knit community experiences the same narrowness of mind, sometimes developing extreme or 'on the fringe' types of beliefs that would be called delusions in the case of a mere individual - but the reason why some tightly-knit communities sometimes experience the same symptoms as an individual socially isolated is because these communities stand cut off from the overall community, or if you like they stand cut off from the rest of the world, so to speak. A fractal-like representation of the world can make it easier to see how different levels can lead to the same outcomes.

There's nothing new in what I've just described but it is something I've come to fully realise within myself, including many - but of course not all - ramifications departing from that one realisation.

Diving into the void of one's self is frightening, especially so when one starts to unveil more and more disturbing behaviour and patterns of thoughts. Most things we usually cover up deep down within ourselves, and perhaps sometimes there is a psychological need for such a deeply-ingrained need to camouflage our imbalances by 'role playing' in front of others and often with ourselves, too.

Self-deception, role playing, needing others... maybe it's all part and parcel of a healthy social animal.

The Cliff

I went to the hairdresser's yesterday. It's been almost two years since I visited one, and though my hair just kept growing it started to look a little... rough around the edges, I guess. Actually, it was getting so long that it became bothersome to an extent.

I sat in the hairdresser's chair with a mirror in front of me to stare at my reflection and the woman's gestures as she started combing my hair.

"My God, what happened to your hair?" she asked, looking appalled. She lifted a bunch of my hair up - where all the split ends were. "How did it get so dry? Did you put treatment on your hair regularly?"

Me, shrugging: "No... I just let it grow, I guess. I know it looks bad, just cut it all off."

The woman shook her head and did as I asked. By the time it was time to pay for the haircut, she was hard-selling me some hair treatment. I bought it, knowing deep down that I'm just not the kind of girl who's ever going to spend more than 10 minutes grooming herself.

Make-up? I know how to apply mascara, that's about it. I think girls learn the 'art' of tarting their faces up when they're still playing with dolls as they watch their own mothers do it, and since my mother never did I just never learned.

This evening I was sitting in the kitchen and it all became so clear, what I'm about to do. I've no idea if what I'm about to do is the right thing or not. For all I know I'll come back crying my eyes out... but if I never try, I'll never know. And if I never know, I'll always regret it.

I think I'm going to embrace my 'artistic' side. For the first time... I'm gonna do it, and I'm scared. It feels like I'm about to jump off a cliff. In a way, that's exactly what I'm about to do - jump off a cliff by quitting my job.

Choices are never simple, and they're never clear-cut. It started off with me thinking I was going to plan for the future, until I realised that there could be no future worth living for unless I created it in the present. And if you're going to plan your future by creating it in the present, that means that there can't be any sense of certainty whatsoever. Only self-belief.