Communication!

Over this past three quarters, S-'s fondness for communication has rubbed off on me. I'm just starting to realize the communication is the answer in literally every social situation, pleasant or not. And then there's the stretch to actually embrace that answer and actually communicate. With that aside, I don't have much to say I guess. I'm very happy with where all of my relationships are right now, many of which are where they are due to both people putting in a good amount of effort to communicate. I definitely wouldn't have been able to  communicate to this extent even six months ago, and I'm shocked at how much I've grown.

I found out a week ago, by email, that my parents got officially divorced back in April. I still don't know the full details, and neither are willing to tell me. The fact that I was told by email and late stung more than the news of the divorce, and I wish my parents just communicated about it honestly rather than tried to hide it in the emails in the past month; the divorce actually happening actually comes more as a relief to me. It's difficult to deal with emotionally, but I know that in the long run it'll be the healthier, happier option for both my parents. It's scary though, knowing that everything my life was before Stanford was is now fundamentally different.

This morning, I had my first kiss. It was in a spectacularly quiet, peaceful, bed-hair glasses-off bodies-intertwined preceded-by-30-seconds-of-meaningful-eye-contact fashion with E-, and it's left me enchanted the entire day. I've definitely daydreamed about how my first kiss might go, and I don't think it could've felt more natural and right. It's bizarre how quickly people can get close to each other. Just two months prior, I might've been able to recognize her in a line at the dining hall, but probably knew not much more about her beyond that. I'm scared to think about how our relationship will (or will not, though hopefully not) develop from here, but at the moment I just can't help feeling so lucky.

At peace

I like this image.

Physically sick as I was this week, I can't remember the last time I've been in such a peaceful state of mind. Turned what certainly would've been an eternal regret into a meaningful conversation.

Soulmateship and Vulnerability

It's been a good while since I posted anything here. It's not that I've had a drought of sentimentality or visceral thoughts (I'm kind of just always sentimental, goo-prone, and generally pathetic); quite the opposite actually, as I've had too many and don't really know what to make of them. I've needed a lot more time to think about it, and I'm still not convinced I have all the questions answered. This is a long post.

In a nutshell:
Not everyone is your soulmate, though you can sort of convince yourself of it, because there is a difference between the feasibility of maintaining a relationship and how happy doing so actually makes you. Everyone has vulnerabilities, but vary greatly in what they are and willingness to share them. It is better to share your vulnerability with others and sincerely try to be there for them even if it seems uncomfortable than to let it brew because unless you take a shot you'll never know how they express vulnerability. The worst that could happen is that you don't learn anything about them, but at least they'll know you care.

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Thoughts on soulmates:

A few weeks ago, S- sent me a link to this article urging people to marry young. Her main argument was that soul mates aren't found, they're made out of the person you marry. My first reaction to the article was that I could totally see where the author was coming from. I didn't necessarily agree with her for a variety reasons. Her premise simply didn't happen in the marriages in my life, namely my parents. But I could see how romantic relationships, including my own, could follow such a trajectory. I like to think that, unlike my parents, I put a substantial amount of effort into my relationships and am decent at making them work.

As someone who generally trusts people until they prove unworthy of it and finds solace from my own troubles by reaching emotional depths in relationships with other people, I certainly would not reject the idea of marrying someone with complete faith that post-marriage I will establish an emotional connection (i.e. become soul mates) with them, even if that connection hadn't been established pre-engagement. Unlikely, but possible. I can just as easily see how that idea would be completely repulsive to others; some people naturally have all their walls up, and only that special person can chip away at them until they come down, and only then are they comfortable committing to a life-long relationship. I respect both viewpoints.

With these thoughts came a somewhat nightmarish realization--if I can essentially fall in love with anyone, why the hell should I not marry the next girl that passes me by on the street? I can establish a meaningful connection with her, right?

A nice conversation with J- served as a good reality check. There were a good number of holes in the author's argument. Obviously, she didn't just marry any ol' bimbo; she had been with her eventual husband for at least a little while. That's a little more comforting--I do think that I am good enough at human interaction to make any long-term commitments that I am actually interested in (as opposed to a relationship with a random stranger) work, romantic or otherwise. Furthermore, after J- brought it up it seemed so obvious: the argument seemed almost traditionalist. Marry someone without knowing where it'll go expecting that the relationship will grow from there, almost borderline arranged marriage (though psychology studies show that divorce rates don't actually differ between arranged and self-chosen couples, so nothing against it), as if marriage were a business transaction. That simply isn't how I want my relationships to be. I want my relationships to be with people I am happy with right from the get-go.

Recently, a variety of different things, however, are convincing me of something I'm deeply saddened by. Feelings of attraction can be very easily manipulated as we learned in PSYCH 70. Indeed, it seems that my stupid, feeble mind is actually quite susceptible to what is only supposed to be banter about my love life from N-. Call it conformity or priming or  what have you--it seems to have an effect.

I borrowed Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman from E-, and as far as I can tell that an understanding of love languages can be applied beyond just a romantic relationship you're invested in. In that sense, it seems that, with sufficient practice, I can speak any love language, even if it isn't my preferred one, to better be able to be there for someone in their times of sorrow or share in their moments of joy. In that sense, it almost becomes possible to be "compatible" with anybody.

The idea that you can be compatible with anybody, though I don't exactly buy it, is scary as hell. Sure, it will  facilitate smooth relationships, but does it also threaten your relationships at the same time because you so easily mesh with others? While consoling and comforting K- through the recent relationship rockiness she's been experiencing, she told me that any girl would be lucky to have me as a boyfriend. That's generally considered one of those classic, somewhat demoralizing tip-off phrases for friendzoning, but in this context where she knows I'm interested in someone else, it made me think a little.

Scotty McClellan's Valentine's Day sermon from my love class had a section where he denounced passionate, romantic love as a mere projection of one's own concept of other people upon them, and when people defy your image of them, the mirage of love dissolves. When I first read that, the idealist in me kicked in and was revolted, because I absolutely believe that romantic love exists and is valuable. However, now that I think about it more, the whole idea of projecting your image of others on to others, though not strictly a synonym to romantic love, is sometimes found in relationships.

As someone who values peace and harmony in interpersonal interactions, I often find myself in sort of a social chameleon mode, and that makes me susceptible to have others' impressions or images of me projected upon me. I feel very guilty when I can't be what others expect of me; this is healthy when there is mutuality in that aspect of my relationships, but when there is not, I simply lose sight of myself and the relationship is not healthy. In other words, sure I'd be a fantastic relationship partner for many people, but it would not be a healthy relationship at least for me.

What it really comes down to, I suppose, is the difference between being capable of and being happy in maintaining a good relationship with someone. The conclusion I seem to be arriving at so far is that I'd be capable of maintaining a caring, compassionate relationship (platonic and romantic both) with most people, but it isn't always natural, comfortable, and reciprocal and thus not always conducive to my own happiness and well-being.

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Thoughts on vulnerability:

Having arrived at the above conclusion about the possibility of forming relationships with people, the task at hand, then, is to determine the subset of people with whom I'd be happy and comfortable maintaining a close relationship with.

I consider myself pretty well-versed in the literature surrounding attraction, human prosocial behavior, personality psychology, etcetc. So far, I've found that this gives me surprisingly good control over the emotional atmosphere of social situations, even if I'm not doing so very conspicuously or outwardly. Subtle non-verbal cues and changes in diction and tone all help. A recurring theme in conversation between S- and I is how much potential someone who understands how people think and act has to be manipulative, for good or bad.

However, as someone who is very concerned with his own emotional well-being and happiness, I am very conscious not to let my psychology antics interfere with my social interactions. It would only be to my own detriment to disturb the natural course of social situations, because it hinders my ability to get to know people and how they respond to me in my own natural way.

I think what's helped me the most in figuring out who the people I want to surround myself with is to make myself vulnerable to people. I got into the habit of doing so with some of my close friends because it helps me deal with my inner turmoils to try to put things to words. Everyone has vulnerabilities; the worst that could happen is that yours fall on deaf ears, and you can just avoid sharing personal details to them in the future. However, you might find some comfort from them, or encourage them to share some of their own vulnerabilities, and that opens the gates for building an emotional connection.

The concept of vulnerabilities has baffled me for a while now. It means so many different things to different people, and there's so many types of it. I like the idea of a deep body of water with gates along the way because it analogizes nicely to emotional depth. For me, I don't open up to people immediately, and it takes a little getting to know and convincing (usually indirectly; at some point I decide I trust you whether you know it or not) for me to open up. A diver in my emotional depths would have some clean spring water to get through before reaching a gate, and they'll have to find some way to open it. Once past the gate, however, how far you desire to explore is entirely up to you; the waters are a bit more murky, more muddy, so more viscous, but I will continue to share my inner feelings with you so long as you keep expressing genuine concern or desire to get to know me. Only towards the end is there a final gate, which takes a lot of time and commitment to open. Very few people ever get there, but if you do the emotions come out like like a geyser at the very core: extremely heated or impassioned thoughts, usually in short bursts of sentimentality, and it is very easy to be pushed back out of that last gate if you don't put enough effort into growing our relationship.

But that's just me. For other people, there might not be any gate, just muddy water all the way through. For some people, it's gate after gate after gate each hiding away crystal clear water, with friends being sorted into multiple tiers of closeness, and each tier being revealed the same personal details with utmost transparency.

Moreover, what if the vulnerability comes across unintentionally? What if someone notices you crying in what you thought was the privacy of your room, or the shower, or your favorite secluded spot on campus? That's like being a maintenance repairmen for one of the gates, and getting a free pass directly through that gate whether the gate is open or not. Can a close relationship be formed under these circumstances?

I certainly think so. S- and I have talked a lot about a desire to help people achieve what we perceive as their potential. We want to make people we care about into the fantastic people we can imagine them being, even if we honestly have no right to. Now that I think about it, being on the receiving side of unintentional vulnerability simply allows you to better understand someone. Whether they like it or not, you are now better to appreciate them as a whole than most.

One of my favorite quotes of all time, by Neale Donald Walsch: “The purpose of relationship is not to have another who might complete you, but to have another with whom you might share your completeness.” The more I think about it that way, the more it feels an obligation for you to try to be there for someone when they become unintentionally vulnerable to you. You were able to witness their completeness, embrace it, share it with them.

At SBS retreat this past weekend, our talk questions sort of reached a critical point as far as seriousness or depth, which had been mounting over the past few quarters. I remember the first talk questions were silly things like "which starter Pokemon would you be and why?" Through the talk responses at retreat, I found that my observations of many people's behavior and hunches about some of their personalities or insecurities were pretty spot on. I feel like I might've inadverdently broken the ice at retreat for talking about especially heavy topics.

In retrospect, I am so glad I did because I feel much closer to many members of SBS for having done so, but I also can't help but recall how uncomfortable it was doing so. I was way out of my comfort zone, not sure if I was sharing too openly and that was making people uneasy or bored or coming across as insincere. I was also unsure how to best express empathy, striking a balance between showing concern and being too nosy or awkward, towards the people whose experiences I could draw parallels to in my life.

The takeaway, in my head at least, was that I clearly need to not cower from initiating attempts at forming deeper emotional connections with people. Perceptiveness and empathy are some of my greatest strengths, and as someone whose sense of fulfillment is fundamentally rooted in what I mean to or can be for others, I need to learn to step out of my comfort zone to make myself happier. Building deep emotional connections is precisely what I want and would be happy with in a relationship, so don't settle for shallow relationships even if I'm capable of maintaining those too simply because I'm too conscientious to move the relationship to that stage.

Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

One of the wonderful people I sing with posted a definition from the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows and it is so great. They are so deep and thought-provoking. I like that kind of stuff and the kinds of people who like that kind of stuff.

Loneliness

A couple days ago, someone posed the question: "Are ENFJs lonely?"

Just the very existence of that question makes me realize that I am lot more lonely than I try to let myself feel.  Of course, you could argue that you aren't lonely if you don't let yourself feel lonely, but I don't think that's how it works.

This response to that question was by far one of the best-articulated self-reflection I've seen from anyone:

At a certain point every ENFJ stops, and wonders, and becomes deeply saddened by the realization that they are trying to be the one selfless person for everyone in their life, and that maybe there never will be somebody to give that genuine selfless impulsive love to them. We dont boast unless people allow us the moment to, but we recognize the love we give, we know how much effort we put into it, our dream is to see somebody have that passion for us. Im kinda sad thinking about it now to be honest. It feels a bit like martyrdom. We will never ask for this, we simply dream of a day where this amazing dreamperson waltzes into our lives like we do other people. 

Yes, we wholeheartedly and to our very core, appreciate people. It is our love, acceptance and appreciation for other HUMAN BEINGS that drives us to be givers. Because... Encompassing ENFJ Quote Incoming: "Everybody deserves it."

There are only a few people who we will truly open up to, and whether we choose you or not is not personal at all. We simply know who have the capacity to understand the complex love-melancholy duality we share with life. We like many NFs, have the desire to be understood. 

Yes, we feel lonely, its a strange detached lonely... let me explain. We will be there for a lonely friend, and at the end of the day we feel less lonely because that person is less lonely. In the big picture the world just became less lonely and thus we feel as such. In reality we did nothing for ourselves to actually deal with our own loneliness, we know this, but somehow we are still content. Understanding this rationale is difficult even for us.

I wholeheartedly agree with just about all of it. I don't think the first paragraph quite does justice to non-ENFJs (I absolutely think other types can be selfless too), but other than that, I am awestruck at how much I relate to this raw piece of writing.

Even though I feel like I have many people to surround myself with, my feelings of loneliness become magnified in social situations because the quality of interpersonal interactions become reduced. I thrive on intimate, one-on-one relationships. My emotional sustenance comes from empathizing with other people, not merely talking to or being in close physical proximity of others. I can feel closer to someone quietly minding my own business in a serene, peaceful room meters apart than grinding up against someone at a dance or party.

I'll have to chew this over in my head more, but I've definitely felt just so distant to so many people recently. Of the maybe 5 or so people I feel closest to right now, only one of them are among the 5 people I felt closest to at the start of the quarter.

Revisiting Drinking

These thoughts have been brewing in my mind (pun intended) for a week or so, but only now did I find the time to sit down and think through it.

I was trying to pinpoint my aversion to drinking. Throughout my childhood, my parents have, with some regularity, consumed alcohol in the form of wine or champagne. During high school, they had taken up more "American" forms of alcohol too: beer, off-the-shelf, hard fruity beverages. In other words, aversion to alcohol has not been something that has been instilled in me throughout my childhood.

My aversion to alcohol was primarily by conscious choice (as opposed to habit, learned values, or conditioned). In the last two years, I saw my mom resorting to alcohol to deal with her problems, and I told myself I did not want to turn to alcohol to solve any problems I might encounter.

Of course, it's also illegal at my current age. By my judgement, Stanford law enforcement (whether in the form of adults in the dorm, i.e. RFs, or actual on-campus sheriffs) are fairly relaxed about drinking law. Obviously, if you get transported or get a DUI/BUI/public drunkenness citation, it'll still go your record. This got me to thinking: what is the real reason why alcohol is illegal?

As far as I can tell, the intent of minimum age drinking (as well as any other drugs, like nicotine for instance) laws is to prevent irresponsible substance use. The fact that Stanford is so lax about these laws in casual environments (within dorms during parties and whatnot), and actually has programming that do not strictly discourage people from drinking (i.e. encourages people, if they choose to drink, to stay within the "social zone") seems to imply that they are confident in Stanford students' ability to make responsible decisions for themselves.

Indeed, over the weeks here I am realizing I am far more responsible than I gave myself credit for. It helped that last week a lot of the people I consider my role models and relate heavily to demonstrated (not intentionally to me in particular) that they were able to let loose without going overboard. The one time last quarter that I first consumed alcohol by choice did not propel me into a downward spiral of alcohol consumption. In addition, I think as strong a reason as not wanting to actually be irresponsible was the desire not to even possibly have an image of being irresponsible. Because alcohol is so commonly portrayed as (and at times is) the cause of crazy, irresponsible behavior, I did not want anyone to be thought of one of "those" college students.

What does this mean? It means I'm at this conflicted crossroads. I am becoming more comfortable with the idea of drinking because 1) I am feeling increased certainty that I won't adopt behavior similar to what my mom did (and she's getting better herself, so that helps), 2) some of the people I look up to the most and whose quality of character I consider admirable, respectable, and strive to embody myself are able to fit alcohol consumption into their lifestyle (the phrasing of this meaning to suggest that responsible alcohol consumption would not inhibit my ability to be the kind of person I want to be, rather than that I strive to be someone whose quality of character includes alcohol consumption), and 3) it simply felt good being less tightly-strung and feeling my muscles and emotion unwind with small quantities of alcohol.

When I look at that list, all of them are personal reasons. I've always been good at staying true to my own values and being outspoken about things I believe in. None of those reasons are a contradiction to my beliefs (e.g. out of peer pressure); instead, my reconsideration of the topic is due to a fundamental shift in my beliefs.

At the same time, a lot of the friends I'm closest to don't drink, and we got close because on weekends we seek non-alcoholic forms of recreation, etc. Will drinking ruin these friendships, and if so will the friendships I forge with other measured, responsible drinkers (which I am confident I can distinguish from irresponsible drinkers, and proceed to surround myself with) be worth the demise of these older friendships?

Honestly do not know.

Nothing Left Unsaid

For whatever reason, I remembered this today. It was one of the defining videos of my high school years. It catalyzed a lot of personal growth, I think. Don't want to forget about it when I look back on this blog decades from now.