The wonders of biology are unparallelled. Brainless creatures like tapeworms can navigate mazes with ease, some animals can see past the visible spectrum of light. A frontier of surprise and intrigue, biology is a language formatted with an intelligence beyond even our own (an intelligence so great, its' manifestation cannot comprehend itself.)
What does it have to do with motivation? Well, chemical imbalances can alter many perceptions of the mind. Anything from our man-made catalysts of hallucination and delusion, drugs, to the production rate of serotonin, which can alter your mood drastically, are chemical imbalances that cloud our minds from their stationary functioning positions. Be they beneficial to or detrimental from our overall health and actions, they are a part of our everyday life, and our perpetually changing world and society.
Motivation is directly relative to the topic of a physically stagnant lifestyle. It makes sense that, when one does not physically or mentally work towards and achieve a goal through labour and challenges, they feel as if they have accomplished less, and thus are plagued with the unsatisfactory. This is the reason why many people shudder at the thought of a desk job, where mundane tasks are completed without end.
But wait, you can get satisfaction from any number of activities that do not physically or mentally try you, right?
A human works this way, he feels more inclined to expend effort if he is nudged by the tangible development of his skills. I'm not an expert and cannot verily produce an answer of much worth. But it is a scientific fact that sports, or other extracurricular, outdoors activities increase positive chemical balances. It doesn't have to be a lot, or a little, it can be minuscule, a hobby, any number of things. People are also stimulated by mental activity, an enlightenment to a new subject, the exploration of a familiar one, and even the fabrication of a new one unlock doors and form pathways in the lush community of synapses within our minds.
Life is dulled by the banal activity of schoolwork, from my perspective and perhaps also from those of many of my peers. I crave challenge, search for it, create it for myself when it does not arrive. Again, a recurring wish to learn what I am unfamiliar with emerges from the folds of my conscience. I wish to be stimulated by the unknown, the barely discernable.
Language grants me this gift, the ever shrinking oasis of the yet-understood.
Dear reader, I pose a question, what gives you this gift? What do you wish to learn, or accomplish, or accomplish in learning?
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
FINAL THAT IS ON TIME
Having a blog has been an interesting experience for me. I never would have started it on my own, for many reasons. I don't value my own opinions, I probably wouldn't get critiqued, and my life is incredibly uninteresting. So, I was somewhat disheartened when I was told I could write about whatever I wanted, since I don't normally have anything to write about. Sure, I have things to say, which are usually limited to complaining (something that, on the way, I learnt I cannot change.) I don't consider myself a skilled writer or very imaginative. Writing consistently in a blog has, however, been stimulating. It is new, it is innovative, and it is all around me whether or not I chose to like it.
However, what did excite me was the opportunity to read the blogs of others in my grade. I saw it as a brilliant way to attach myself to my new school. Although I almost never comment, I enjoy reading. It's fun to see what people have to say, on-topic, off-topic, rambling or structured is interesting and fun. I don't really have a reason for not commenting besides being nervous. I never know if my comment will be appreciated, if it's too long or too short, especially after people expressed disinterest in other students reading their blogs.
I still feel out of my element about the whole blogging thing, and I'm still uncomfortable with certain people seeing it, for some reason. I'd like to say I made the progress that I'd hoped to, but I haven't. I have plenty of things to write about, but I've hardly expanded my vocabulary or interest beyond the confines of my own thoughts which is depressing. In this new semester I wanted to achieve my goal which is to stop complaining and to be somewhat productive, but I won't really get anywhere when I've already established that I can't change those ways. At the same time, I'm proud of most of my posts. Every week I review my posts, and whether I skim or read thoroughly it's apparent which posts I hate, and why.
Like my post, "a little bit of culture." Ugh, I hate even reading the name. I should have talked more about my drawing than gone on that insufferable spiel.
"I'm not trying to be condescending because I took it upon myself to learn all the countries in Europe, (of course I would, having lived there,) but I think it matters that kids know where countries are because their geography affects their culture. To say that Italy would be no different if it were inland is preposterous. And it doesn't all have to be Europe, either. I am just a Europhile."
In this paragraph, I sound like a pompous imbecile. Who do I think I am? I'm using totally unrelated facts to make up for my lack of structured argument. Even days after writing it it made me feel stupid. I really wish I could delete it.Another thing I hate about this post is that I keep using myself as an example, something I usually never do. It must have been because I was addressing a touchy subject that I didn't quite know how to express my opinion about. In any case, I learnt my lesson with this post. I hope I never shame myself this badly on my blog again, since it is within my power to prevent it.
I've discovered I'm content with getting angry. I get angry in a lot of my blogs, but I'm getting better at it. I always regret when I get mad and don't say what I mean, but I'm learning to channel my rage into the comprehensible. Perhaps the most interesting part is I always started blogs off telling myself not to get enraged this time, to have a normal, placid pooling of thoughts so I would be content later. But I'll never really be content with just anything boring, so I have to get kind of excited about it. This isn't prose or poetry, it is essentially unrefined. It changes with my life, as lives are meant to change. I don't linger on anything except my own vices (which is perhaps irreparable at this point.) I can't hold a grudge against myself and expect to be productive. But I can and will work with my frailties to produce something I'm proud of.
Another thing that sometimes bothers me about my blog is my tendency to swear, or use profane language. I don't want to censor myself and I feel like using swear words almost brings a personal feeling to my posts, but at the same time I want my posts to appear somewhat refined and I don't want to come across as crude. Obviously, curses can be pulled off with class, but my blogs waver in consistency when I swear. In some, I made it a point to avoid swearing altogether, whilst in others I let my anger get the best of me and sprinkle on the filth.
"That is the largest pile of bullshit I've ever heard... read this and suck it"
Excerpt from "Optimism, confidence..."
Like here, I get really hostile with my speech. I'm not embarrassed, nor disappointed, yet I feel some kind of resentment towards using that kind of language in a public blog associated with my person. Which is probably to say that yes, if I could remain anonymous I'd press the rage button a whole lot more often. But since this is the way it is I have to maintain my reputation somehow...
Overall I've been very satisfied with my blog. I'd like a bit more feedback, but I should start giving feedback before I expect it, or hope for it. I've followed the rules pretty well so far... missing the occasional this or that, but sometimes my life requires that I make these blunders. I'm trying to enter the year with a new mind, as I've stated, I just need to get out of bed first.
However, what did excite me was the opportunity to read the blogs of others in my grade. I saw it as a brilliant way to attach myself to my new school. Although I almost never comment, I enjoy reading. It's fun to see what people have to say, on-topic, off-topic, rambling or structured is interesting and fun. I don't really have a reason for not commenting besides being nervous. I never know if my comment will be appreciated, if it's too long or too short, especially after people expressed disinterest in other students reading their blogs.
I still feel out of my element about the whole blogging thing, and I'm still uncomfortable with certain people seeing it, for some reason. I'd like to say I made the progress that I'd hoped to, but I haven't. I have plenty of things to write about, but I've hardly expanded my vocabulary or interest beyond the confines of my own thoughts which is depressing. In this new semester I wanted to achieve my goal which is to stop complaining and to be somewhat productive, but I won't really get anywhere when I've already established that I can't change those ways. At the same time, I'm proud of most of my posts. Every week I review my posts, and whether I skim or read thoroughly it's apparent which posts I hate, and why.
Like my post, "a little bit of culture." Ugh, I hate even reading the name. I should have talked more about my drawing than gone on that insufferable spiel.
"I'm not trying to be condescending because I took it upon myself to learn all the countries in Europe, (of course I would, having lived there,) but I think it matters that kids know where countries are because their geography affects their culture. To say that Italy would be no different if it were inland is preposterous. And it doesn't all have to be Europe, either. I am just a Europhile."
In this paragraph, I sound like a pompous imbecile. Who do I think I am? I'm using totally unrelated facts to make up for my lack of structured argument. Even days after writing it it made me feel stupid. I really wish I could delete it.Another thing I hate about this post is that I keep using myself as an example, something I usually never do. It must have been because I was addressing a touchy subject that I didn't quite know how to express my opinion about. In any case, I learnt my lesson with this post. I hope I never shame myself this badly on my blog again, since it is within my power to prevent it.
I've discovered I'm content with getting angry. I get angry in a lot of my blogs, but I'm getting better at it. I always regret when I get mad and don't say what I mean, but I'm learning to channel my rage into the comprehensible. Perhaps the most interesting part is I always started blogs off telling myself not to get enraged this time, to have a normal, placid pooling of thoughts so I would be content later. But I'll never really be content with just anything boring, so I have to get kind of excited about it. This isn't prose or poetry, it is essentially unrefined. It changes with my life, as lives are meant to change. I don't linger on anything except my own vices (which is perhaps irreparable at this point.) I can't hold a grudge against myself and expect to be productive. But I can and will work with my frailties to produce something I'm proud of.
Another thing that sometimes bothers me about my blog is my tendency to swear, or use profane language. I don't want to censor myself and I feel like using swear words almost brings a personal feeling to my posts, but at the same time I want my posts to appear somewhat refined and I don't want to come across as crude. Obviously, curses can be pulled off with class, but my blogs waver in consistency when I swear. In some, I made it a point to avoid swearing altogether, whilst in others I let my anger get the best of me and sprinkle on the filth.
"That is the largest pile of bullshit I've ever heard... read this and suck it"
Excerpt from "Optimism, confidence..."
Like here, I get really hostile with my speech. I'm not embarrassed, nor disappointed, yet I feel some kind of resentment towards using that kind of language in a public blog associated with my person. Which is probably to say that yes, if I could remain anonymous I'd press the rage button a whole lot more often. But since this is the way it is I have to maintain my reputation somehow...
Overall I've been very satisfied with my blog. I'd like a bit more feedback, but I should start giving feedback before I expect it, or hope for it. I've followed the rules pretty well so far... missing the occasional this or that, but sometimes my life requires that I make these blunders. I'm trying to enter the year with a new mind, as I've stated, I just need to get out of bed first.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Optimism, confidence...
Two things I'm really bad at and two things I will embrace this year. I'm getting sappy with the resolutions, huh?
It's just that, I never thought about it until a friend told me she thought I had problems with self-loathing. Hell, I hadn't thought about it in years. I guess I sealed myself off from thinking about it because it's just about the least productive thought ever. But it hadn't gone away, it's still with me, only the more I think about it now, the more it vanishes. I like to feel confident, but I have to work at it. I can't just let things fester in my little pool. I need to clean them up.
It's my half-sister's birthday today. She is a year old now. It's not hard to believe, although the past year went by really quickly. They say repression is a defense mechanism... Well, it's evolved from that into something like a compost pile. I forget the bad things, never think about them, and eventually I forget them and the feelings they brought me. Selective memory is a gift I cherish. It will probably bite me in the ass later.
I don't really consider my half-sister my sister. Everyone calls her my sister, in passing and in general, and I'm willing to assume it's not because half is an extra syllable. They expect sisterly love from me, and I will give them what I want to give them, which is obviously up to me. I'm not a big fan of babies. I don't do what I do because of love, or obligation. I do what I do because I want to help. And what I do is help my father. To assume that my motherly and or sisterly instinct and wanting to bond is the reason I help with the baby is a monstrosity of an assumption. I don't even feel bad about it.
Something that always makes me mad (I'm not alone) is when adults tell you outright that your opinion about babies will change when, not if, you become a mother. That is the largest pile of bullshit I've ever heard. I love children. I don't love babies. I have respect for mothers, but because I am capable of what they are capable of does not make me an inevitable victim to motherhood.
I'm just sick and tired of being told I will want a baby someday and love the baby because it's a baby. I will love the baby because it is my child, not because it is a defenseless ball of shit, piss, and vomit. I will tolerate it because of my love for my child, and nothing more. If my opinion changes someday, and I can say most confidently as a WOMAN that it will not, I will stand corrected. That's right, my hatred of babies is not an immature thing that I will outgrow. If it's to be outgrown, I'd already have outgrown it. I secretly wish everyone who's ever expected maternal behavior of me towards babies can read this and suck it.
The best thing is I don't even hate babies. I just wish this would stop. Wait, what?
I went into a rant again, but I liked it.
It's just that, I never thought about it until a friend told me she thought I had problems with self-loathing. Hell, I hadn't thought about it in years. I guess I sealed myself off from thinking about it because it's just about the least productive thought ever. But it hadn't gone away, it's still with me, only the more I think about it now, the more it vanishes. I like to feel confident, but I have to work at it. I can't just let things fester in my little pool. I need to clean them up.
It's my half-sister's birthday today. She is a year old now. It's not hard to believe, although the past year went by really quickly. They say repression is a defense mechanism... Well, it's evolved from that into something like a compost pile. I forget the bad things, never think about them, and eventually I forget them and the feelings they brought me. Selective memory is a gift I cherish. It will probably bite me in the ass later.
I don't really consider my half-sister my sister. Everyone calls her my sister, in passing and in general, and I'm willing to assume it's not because half is an extra syllable. They expect sisterly love from me, and I will give them what I want to give them, which is obviously up to me. I'm not a big fan of babies. I don't do what I do because of love, or obligation. I do what I do because I want to help. And what I do is help my father. To assume that my motherly and or sisterly instinct and wanting to bond is the reason I help with the baby is a monstrosity of an assumption. I don't even feel bad about it.
Something that always makes me mad (I'm not alone) is when adults tell you outright that your opinion about babies will change when, not if, you become a mother. That is the largest pile of bullshit I've ever heard. I love children. I don't love babies. I have respect for mothers, but because I am capable of what they are capable of does not make me an inevitable victim to motherhood.
I'm just sick and tired of being told I will want a baby someday and love the baby because it's a baby. I will love the baby because it is my child, not because it is a defenseless ball of shit, piss, and vomit. I will tolerate it because of my love for my child, and nothing more. If my opinion changes someday, and I can say most confidently as a WOMAN that it will not, I will stand corrected. That's right, my hatred of babies is not an immature thing that I will outgrow. If it's to be outgrown, I'd already have outgrown it. I secretly wish everyone who's ever expected maternal behavior of me towards babies can read this and suck it.
The best thing is I don't even hate babies. I just wish this would stop. Wait, what?
I went into a rant again, but I liked it.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
New year, new mind
The new year 2010
I'm excited for this new year. 2009 was pretty bad to the point where I don't remember a lot of it. But I'm determined to do better this year.
I have to do better this year! It's 22 Heisei, and 22 is my favourite number. That probably means nothing, but I like to think it will be a lucky year. I'll definitley not waste as much time.
I was told I should find something to be happy about, but it seems like a ridiculous expectation. Am I meant to expore activities until I find one that excites me? What does that even mean? My dad told me I should join a club or do a sport. But usually, things are too much commitment and I end up missing meetings and deadlines. I try hard enough in school, six hours a day. After than I hardly have energy to do anything more strenuous than make dinner.
I already have a hobby, anyway, drawing. And I'm trying to hastily put together a portfolio for CSSSA, an elite art program here in California that seems intensive enough to soothe my boredom during the summer, as well as tone my skills for when I have to apply for colleges. It has painting and animation studies, two things I'm interested in, as well as silk-screening which I've studied and enjoyed. I was sweating over whether I was adequate for such a program, but some friends ensured me that I'd probably get in. Even though I don't agree, I'm a little less stressed which will probably improve the quality of my portfolio.
Speaking of college, I've been thinking about it a lot lately. While I love reading and speaking foreign languages, I don't know if I love the visual arts more, and I hate having to choose. I wish there was a way I could incorperate them. My dad uses language as a reward. He told me I couldn't take any classes outside of school for language until I was getting good grades in school. That's cool, but seeing as language is a healthy motivation, wouldn't I do better in school if I could do it at the same time? I certainly have the capacity for it, anyway. I've been stuudying independently for too long and it's hard to learn without instruction. I need two years of language to enter an exchange program, and though I've been studying for that long I still need to complete a class to fill that requirement.
Without being immersed, I can only move at this plodding pace of learning. Listening, hardly speaking, for I have no fluent friends to practice with, nor friends above my level to correct me. I'm increasingly bad at writing, again without an instructor to correct me. I suppose I should be grateful it's so easy for me to pick new things up.
So, this month I'll be creating things for my portfolio, conditioning myself for finals, and catching up on schoolwork which I'm really bad at but I won't get disheartened.
Year of the Tiger! Time to show my best work yet!
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