Loretta Castorini: You Can't See What You are, and I See Everything
This is Monday of the fourth week of the headache. If I write a memoir, this chapter will be entitled something Gothy like, "The Headfog Swallow." This almost incessant pain has thrown me into a completely different kind of desperation thinking that maybe, somehow, the tumor that has gone unnoticed by medical science has blossomed into a physical manifestation, rather than just an emotional one, and finally, the lifetime of unidentifiable weirdness that I've felt will be explained through an actual growth that has pressed on the part of my brain that triggers completely irrational depression and anxiety. If it is, at least I'll get to see what it is like to be bald. I don't think that I have the head for it, personally.
I was talking with my therapist about kids and about my being a kid. I often do this, because children mystify me. I was talking about being five years old and not actually being five years old. About always being hyper-aware of everything around me and completely attuned to people's expressions and what they really were thinking, the conversation going on behind me, the way that that person carried themselves, the insinuation behind the words and the lies that they were telling...all of it. As if I was robbed of the completely selfish and belligerent behavioral aspects of being a child that is unaware of how they affect other people, I often would look at my five-year old peers and scoff at their completely detestable behavior. In turn, I barely tolerate that behavior in the children that I interact with now. So, we talked about how that might have manifested at birth or as a baby, but really...there is nothing that can change that past. As always, I can only alter the future and my reaction to it. But, the residual damage (if it should be called that), and, my greatest quality (maybe) is that I see things for exactly what they are. As in, more than anyone else that I have ever known.
This all sounds incredibly unpleasant. I assure you, the emotional work that I have done is still quite valid and still quite remarkable. I was talking with Mike in the car this weekend that I am now past the point in my life where I bargain with myself everyday to get through the minutes and hours. Past the point of promising myself that I would, eventually, find the answer to combat my crippling suicidal depression. I am past the point of thinking that everything that I see is completely pointless. I am past the point of embitterment about every good thing that happened to other people. I am not past of the point of complete Realism. I will never give birth to the unwavering Optimism that I see in so many people that spend their lives seeing what they want to see and hearing what they want to hear.
When I first started reading Philosophical texts in college, I often wondered where the idea of
thinking about thought was all of my life. That what I often thought was a passing interest in the Psychological aspects of man was actually a really deep interest in the Philosophical makeup of them, instead. I, like many students, resonated with the unrealistic sass of Nietzsche (it worked for Jim Morrison, right?). I wanted to get deep into Plato and Socrates to get the foundation of what it all meant. I plodded through Schlegel, Heidegger and Kierkegaard on my own time. But when I was introduced to Peirce, Dewey and Pragmatism, it became the ultimate tool to understanding the way that I saw the world as a sober and hyper-aware five year old. To me, Pragmatism encompassed the way that I saw everything all the time: the idea that no one in their Philosophical mind can (or should) escape the influence of their experience in their Philosophical idealizations. That, to try, was futile and even completely condescending. Can I just tell you...that shit is an albatross of the grandest proportion.
So what the hell am I really getting at here?
I saw a video posted multiple times on Facebook featuring a speech given by Ashton Kutcher to the audience during a Teen Choice Awards acceptance speech from 2013. I have the attention span of a hummingbird when it comes to awards shows and celebrity blather, so I found a transcript. In the speech, Kutcher outlines three things: opportunity being disguised as hard work, sexy is really being smart, thoughtful and generous and finally...building your own life devoid of the idea that you do not have control of your circumstances. This is supposed to be incredibly uplifting for the intended audience. I am sure that it is. I am sure, too, that the FB posters are posting to pay-it-forward to the idea of hard work really paying off if you're a good person with idealistic goals. I hope that for the majority of the population, it becomes a really awesome memory of a celebrity trying to instill a message in an audience that is receptive to his fame. But here's what I see. Ashton Kutcher is not famous because of his superior acting skills (homeboy's most famous acting gig is playing Kelso in "That 70's Show"), Ashton Kutcher is not famous for his foray into venture capitalism or philanthropy (although, if anything, he should be). Ashton Kutcher started gaining popularity as a model. Ashton Kutcher would not be on that stage spouting platitudes to your teenagers if it were not for the fact that he had a beautiful face and ass that gave him the money to get idealistic about life.
Perhaps these headaches can give way to a Gregory House-like tumor that completely changes my ability to see through the fluff. Perhaps it shall remove this albatross of the influence of experience. Perhaps I will become the five year-old that I never was.
I was talking with my therapist about kids and about my being a kid. I often do this, because children mystify me. I was talking about being five years old and not actually being five years old. About always being hyper-aware of everything around me and completely attuned to people's expressions and what they really were thinking, the conversation going on behind me, the way that that person carried themselves, the insinuation behind the words and the lies that they were telling...all of it. As if I was robbed of the completely selfish and belligerent behavioral aspects of being a child that is unaware of how they affect other people, I often would look at my five-year old peers and scoff at their completely detestable behavior. In turn, I barely tolerate that behavior in the children that I interact with now. So, we talked about how that might have manifested at birth or as a baby, but really...there is nothing that can change that past. As always, I can only alter the future and my reaction to it. But, the residual damage (if it should be called that), and, my greatest quality (maybe) is that I see things for exactly what they are. As in, more than anyone else that I have ever known.
This all sounds incredibly unpleasant. I assure you, the emotional work that I have done is still quite valid and still quite remarkable. I was talking with Mike in the car this weekend that I am now past the point in my life where I bargain with myself everyday to get through the minutes and hours. Past the point of promising myself that I would, eventually, find the answer to combat my crippling suicidal depression. I am past the point of thinking that everything that I see is completely pointless. I am past the point of embitterment about every good thing that happened to other people. I am not past of the point of complete Realism. I will never give birth to the unwavering Optimism that I see in so many people that spend their lives seeing what they want to see and hearing what they want to hear.
When I first started reading Philosophical texts in college, I often wondered where the idea of
thinking about thought was all of my life. That what I often thought was a passing interest in the Psychological aspects of man was actually a really deep interest in the Philosophical makeup of them, instead. I, like many students, resonated with the unrealistic sass of Nietzsche (it worked for Jim Morrison, right?). I wanted to get deep into Plato and Socrates to get the foundation of what it all meant. I plodded through Schlegel, Heidegger and Kierkegaard on my own time. But when I was introduced to Peirce, Dewey and Pragmatism, it became the ultimate tool to understanding the way that I saw the world as a sober and hyper-aware five year old. To me, Pragmatism encompassed the way that I saw everything all the time: the idea that no one in their Philosophical mind can (or should) escape the influence of their experience in their Philosophical idealizations. That, to try, was futile and even completely condescending. Can I just tell you...that shit is an albatross of the grandest proportion.So what the hell am I really getting at here?
I saw a video posted multiple times on Facebook featuring a speech given by Ashton Kutcher to the audience during a Teen Choice Awards acceptance speech from 2013. I have the attention span of a hummingbird when it comes to awards shows and celebrity blather, so I found a transcript. In the speech, Kutcher outlines three things: opportunity being disguised as hard work, sexy is really being smart, thoughtful and generous and finally...building your own life devoid of the idea that you do not have control of your circumstances. This is supposed to be incredibly uplifting for the intended audience. I am sure that it is. I am sure, too, that the FB posters are posting to pay-it-forward to the idea of hard work really paying off if you're a good person with idealistic goals. I hope that for the majority of the population, it becomes a really awesome memory of a celebrity trying to instill a message in an audience that is receptive to his fame. But here's what I see. Ashton Kutcher is not famous because of his superior acting skills (homeboy's most famous acting gig is playing Kelso in "That 70's Show"), Ashton Kutcher is not famous for his foray into venture capitalism or philanthropy (although, if anything, he should be). Ashton Kutcher started gaining popularity as a model. Ashton Kutcher would not be on that stage spouting platitudes to your teenagers if it were not for the fact that he had a beautiful face and ass that gave him the money to get idealistic about life.
Perhaps these headaches can give way to a Gregory House-like tumor that completely changes my ability to see through the fluff. Perhaps it shall remove this albatross of the influence of experience. Perhaps I will become the five year-old that I never was.
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