Monday, July 28, 2008
ADL is Actually Doing Little
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Helping Hands
Monday, July 21, 2008
Diagnosis: Human (Mad Pride Manifesto)
(SoCI: No, I'm not turning into Furious Seasons. I'll still have other stuff to talk about here. This is just a continuation to my previous post, and is here in celebration of Mad Pride month. Next week, new soapbox, I promise.)
Thus, we are “depressed” not because the world is being destroyed while we sell our hours to mindless routines, but because our brains are too weak to handle it. We are “ADHD” not because our culture slams us with an average of 3000 media messages a day, but because our brains are too weak to handle it. We are “schizophrenic” and “bipolar” not because we were traumatized or overwhelmed by the madness of our culture, but because our brains are too weak to handle it. Instead of taking a ruthless moral inventory of our culture, families, societies, economics, religions, education systems, and pointing the blameful finger outwards, we do it of and to ourselves, and now of and to our biology. Everyone is mentally ill, that is, every individual except the sum of the parts: society. ~From "Indicator Species?" by Steven Morgan
I can't get to the page to link you guys because I don't have a membership and don't want to fool around with all that, but apparently if you log into the DSM-V website, there's a place for "suggestions", and the DSM guys list five categories of suggestions. One of these is "suggestions for a new disorder to be added to the DSM."
When you consider that the DSM is pretty much the be-all-and-end-all Bible of psychiatric diagnoses, that's just weird. Inviting laypeople to make up new disorders? Nobody gets to make up other types of diseases; one has to discover a microbe or isolate a cluster of symptoms or something. This exposes the fluidity and subjectivity of what many people like to present as a solid, objective science. This invitation to create mental illnesses out of imagination, social stigmas, boredom, thin air or whatever speaks volumes about our society and the nature of mental illness.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Brain?
Thursday, July 10, 2008
A Tour Through Time
(State of CI: No, the blog's not broken. I disabled comments on this one. I'm also still on the river, unless the rattlesnake-catching was successful, in which case I'm probably at a hospital in Utah. Anyone who thinks it's awful that I'm joking about this can check out the most recent Bubblegum Psychology Today.)
The Trafalmadorians can look at all the different moments just the way we can look at a stretch of the Rocky Mountains…it is just an illusion we have here on Earth that one moment follows another one, like beads on a string, and that once a moment is gone it is gone forever. ~Billy Pilgrim in Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse –Five
I’ve been thinking about the nature of Time ever since I was a little kid and started thinking about traveling through it to meet George Washington and things like that. I don’t know exactly what Time consists of, but I do have a few ideas.
I believe Time exists in a sort of space, on some plane not included our three dimensions. The Earthling vision of time is as a line on the conventional XY graph, a very straight line – beads on a string. In this vision, time travel is completely impossible since there is no “past” to return to and no “future” has been created. The line is a ray existing only up to the present, and the future is an infinite plane of points, of which only one will occur. This vision is what muddies up the concept of free will – if time is a straight line, then only one thing will ever occur, regardless of the infinite possibilities. You have complete control until the present, and once things occur, they become inevitable. Here time is like a zipper, one very tiny line moving at a steady pace, obliterating every other possible point on the Y axis as it passes the X point. The only way for time travel in this version to occur is if every passing moment repeats itself over and over, suspended on that line, hovering in fourth-dimension space like a broken record. Thus, travel into the past would be possible, but travel into the future would not, and the traveler would have no power to change anything, as the line had already been drawn. It would be like re-watching an old movie. I work with this version of time to live in the commonly shared reality to do things like go to school and relate to other people.
"Each clump of symbols is a brief, urgent message - describing a situation, a scene...there isn't any particular relationship between all the messages...when seen all at once, they produce an image of life that is so beautiful and surprising and deep. There is no beginning, no middle, no end, no suspense, no moral, no causes, no effects. What we [Tralfamadorians] love in our books are the depths of many marvelous moments seen all at once."
There’s also the personally experienced Time – every moment individual to the awareness of its existence. Here every person has their own string of beads that doesn’t connect to any others, and the present is nowhere but where they themselves are. Every one is directly straight like Earthling Time, but may become tangled or crossed with another, and all go in the same direction suspended in the same space that is shared Time, where fate is housed. Here Time travel is tricky since one may only move along his/her string of beads, but it is intensely connected to everyone else’s, and probably only possible in the individualistic “unstuck in time” sense of Slaughterhouse-Five.
Then there’s my synaesthetic Time, existing of its own substance but within the space we also exist in, a rolling, moving, round and colored sequence suspended in our world and cycling through. Here “traveling through Time” makes as much sense as “traveling through toaster” or “traveling through speech”. It is comparable to (my) thought; substance immaterial existing in space material. It’s visual and concrete. This is how I see and understand clocks, calendars, schedules and sometimes other people when I get frustrated.
"If you know this," said Billy, "isn't there some way you can prevent it? Can't you keep the pilot from pressing the button?"
"He has always pressed it, and he always will. We always let him and we always will let him. The moment is structured that way."
Other versions allow for time travel, future predictions, and parallel realities. Time may exist on a plane beyond the Z axis, meaning it runs alongside our reality but is not made up of the same stuff as our reality. This version allows for belief in a God who exists outside of Time, supremely eternal and wholly unaffected by Time. It allows for time travel by moving around in the space Time exists in, not by moving around in Time. Here, Time is a large plane like the Rocky Mountains with our reality running like a thread through it or along it, borrowing and diluting its substance to make a line of seconds and minutes and hours to organize things in our dimension. This allows for parallel realities, threads that branch off or double back. Because Time exists in space, it can assume shape, creating cause-effect webs, new realities, and moving over to make a space for God. Moments spread out and interact with other moments, and none are more valid or more present than any others. The moment we are on is one point on the big plane, with Time stretching out all around us. This Time can be stood back from, seen, understood, manipulated. This allows for free will and time travel because it is a less restricted version. Time travel is possible here but it would take some serious human invention, since it would involve moving outside of our linear reality. We can stand on top of the Rocky Mountains because we’re made of the same stuff they are, but to move in the space that Time exists in we would have to change our fundamental nature somehow – become water in order to truly move within the ocean. To imagine this, flip space and time around. You can stand in one place on the floor, but the rest of the floor still exists even when you're not standing on it, because it exists in space and time, like we do. If time existed in its own space, it would be like the floor, with every part of it existing with its own nature simultaneously.
This version of Time is so beyond our understanding and our human limitations, and I think it’s this break in perception that frustrates theology and cosmology and quantum physics and all that. We as people invented linear time so our watches would mean something, and then we applied this Earthling construct to things that aren’t limited like we are – God, or the universe. Trying to understand those things in our terms of Time is like trying to understand color in terms of sound. Applying our human perception of Time to things not bounded by it is like trying to find the factory where stars are made (I mean human Henry Ford assembly-line factories, don't say "nebula") or trying to figure out how God breathes. That’s why I think the whole Creation debate is meaningless – we’re trying to place God somewhere on that XY line when He’s the graph paper and the pencil too. It is this version of time that I see as analogous to the human mind – infinite, existing in space, characterized by its relationships and connections.
It was about people whose mental diseases couldn't be treated because the causes of these diseases were all in the fourth dimension, and three-dimensional Earth doctors couldn't see those causes at all, or even imagine them.
Recommended Reading
Wake Forest University: The Nature of Time
Timeless Reality: The View From Nowhen
New York Times: Time in the Animal Mind
Vice Magazine: "Time" is exchanged/turned into art within a Mexican prison(Caution: photo of a guy in underwear; possibly not-nice sidebar links.)
Monday, July 7, 2008
Thou Shalt Do As I Say, Not As I...Say
Thursday, July 3, 2008
To Have Seen Nothing
(Every concrete memory I have from going under for my wisdom teeth)
The doctor tells me to squeeze his fingers and I know it is only to help get the IV in my vein but I imagine he is holding my hand to help me feel better. I am staring down the mask on my nose at its dark pink interior, trying to decide if it smells like anything, inhaling to determine odor, not because someone is telling me to. The last thing I hear is the beep beep beep of the heart monitor, which sounds just like it does on TV and I think how clichéd, how stereotypical. I picture the green blinks and listen to the beeps and think, that sound is me. I am crying and the nurse I do not like is telling me to stop, which is exactly what I wake up to, so I don’t realize it is over until she says I can go home when I calm down. Nothing is visible, not even the blackness of closed eyes. I give up trying to see anything and wonder what shoes I am wearing. Someone asks me what color Gatorade I want and I become aware of a refrigerator without seeing its glow or hearing the seals pop as it opens. I don’t feel my mouth move or hear the words but I know I am saying “I don’t care, I don’t care,” which is a lie because I only like red, but I am scared and angry and desperate to go home and trying to sound like an adult so I say “I don’t care” when I really want a red one. The nurse I do not like says, “give her whatever we have the most of,” which makes me mad because it isn’t nice and sad because I know it will not be red. I know she is talking to someone, but I can’t hear them. I have no idea whether I am sitting or standing, moving or staying still, and I try to determine what shoes I am wearing because I cannot remember and it is something I want to know. Everything I know comes from an inside-out awareness, since all I can see or feel is a fuzzy nothingness and I can’t hear anything except the voice of the nurse I do not like, which comes sharply purple and brown through one side of the nothingness. Then hands I think are my dad’s but hope are not because I know I am a mess and it is embarrassing.
(Next thing I know, I’m waking up to a dislocated jaw and a purple Gatorade. I wore my green Converse high-tops. I apparently managed to take them off and change into PJs before getting into bed, but I have no memory of this, or of the car ride to my house.)