So in the spirit of not procrastinating, "just doing it," putting myself out there, etc. here are what I consider to be my "secrets." I still don't quite know what these are supposed to be. Are they just things I don't tell people? There are a lot of things I don't tell people that I wouldn't care that much if they knew. I have no problem talking about most things if I know someone wants to hear them. Just to reiterate, my goal in writing this is to unburden myself of things that occupy my mind. It will probably seem like I'm writing this to offend people, and no doubt there are plenty of things for people to be offended about. It might also seem like I'm writing it as a way to get attention. In a way that's obviously true. The video that triggered this was about a man who realized he was racist, so he moved into a black neighborhood and told his neighbors he was racist. This is me telling the people to whom my secrets are relevant. If it starts a dialogue, so much the better. I think a major part of the man's process was talking about his problem further, confronting it with the help of the people around him. I don't really know if all my secrets have solutions. I don't really know what to include. So let's start a list and see what comes out:
I believe I am superior to everyone. When introduced to a new person, I immediately begin analyzing ways in which I am better than them. If I don't have a better GPA, I assign more importance to being athletic, more responsible, more anything. (Sometimes things have to go into the hypothetical realm really quickly... oh yeah, well I bet you're worse at juggling, rubik's cubes, and Magic: the Gathering than I am) And then I decide I am "better." It's not like I'm stupid enough to think that I'm unbiased. I'm also not writing this to make myself seem "self-aware" or whatever. It's just true. I know it, and I don't tell people, so now it's out there. If I know you, I think I'm better than you. I'm sorry. I admit this may not be true, but it's what I believe deep down.
I am capable of rationalizing anything. I frequently doubt which comes first, my decision to do something, or my reason for doing it. I hold myself to the standard of "have a reason for everything you do." But when my brain is capable of finding a justification (and a convincing one) for any action, it's almost a nominal standard. So with that in mind, it should come as no surprise that I am sure I'm capable of killing someone. I watched some interviews of serial killers (Ted Bundy, Jeffery Dahmer) and the way they talk about their actions without remorse reminds me of me. It's simple. It's just "I wanted to, so I did." Ted Bundy tries to blame his on watching violent pornography, but by all accounts that's just him trying for a weird tactic. This applies to silly things too, of course. I can rationalize wearing shorts all year round. I can rationalize my decision to wear jeans this week. It's true that I will have a reason at the ready for any question about an action I took intentionally. The motivation may just be that I thought it would be enjoyable, but I'll be able to follow that up with reasons too.
I don't know how far to take this. Should I share everything I know people don't know? Should I share the things that only concern one person, or should I just talk to that one person? I mean, I'm all for sharing, but the boundaries of what constitute a secret that's holding me back are a bit vague.
Other secrets:
Love:
A. My Sister (might as well start things off with a bang)
1) I think I don't "love" my sister. I texted her I loved her just this morning, which is why this is on my mind. I don't know how to describe this either. I don't feel vested in her at all. I know we have a connection as siblings. I value the experiences we shared. I admire her in a lot of ways. I just don't feel "love" in the way I conceptualize it. I have no doubt that what I feel fits the definition of love in the dictionary, fits most people's definition of love, even, but I still felt awkward texting her. I thanked her for the birthday wishes and hit send. Then I sent a follow-up text with "I love you too, of course." Heinlein (and a bunch of other people) uses the three definitions of love separately. Philos (friend), eros (physical) agape (total). I have philos love for my sister; of that I'm sure. And I don't even have that for many people, so it's not like she's not spe(s)c(h)ial. I just don't normally say it to those people. So when I texted it and questioned it, I figured it was a secret.
B. On the other hand, I can say I love my mom and not question it at all. That being said, there was a period of my life where I doubted this, and would have said without question that I loved my sister.
When I think about my mom very specific things come to mind. None of them are positive. One of the videos I watched recently on my search for self-actualization crap said we feel a loss twice as much as we feel a gain. I think it must be true, especially if memory is any gauge. 1) I remember a car ride where she threatened to put me on medication. I think we were on Duff Avenue, maybe near Lincoln Way. We might have been stopped by a train? I was pretty young. It's one of my earlier memories. 2) I remember giving her the middle finger to her back because we had just yelled at each other and it seemed like the right thing to do (according to movies, the situation, I don't know), and feeling really weird while doing it. Not only was it not satisfying in the slightest, one of her softball teammates saw me do it and I got hit for the first time in a long time. I think that might have been the last time, too, actually. 3) I remember her saying she was afraid that I might/could kill her. The thing about that wasn't how ridiculous it was, it was how disconcerting it was that she might be seeing/knowing me for the "evil" I really was. (I have never wanted to kill my mom. I have wondered if I would feel anything if I killed someone, though. So in a sense, it was ridiculous, since I knew I would never do that, but at the same time...) 4) Around that time I remember her calling the police on me because I was disobedient. One of the most offensive things I clearly remember my reaction to was her saying she needed to control me. Unsurprisingly, I am not a fan of being controlled. How is it that these are the things that spring to mind when I think of my childhood and I still have a positive impression overall? I can't remember anything offhand that was amazing, I can remember all these specific times that it was awful, and I still think it was awesome. I love how I turned out as a person, I love my parents for all the work they did, and yet I really do struggle to remember the good times. Some of them come back with effort. Hiking is always a big one. Snorkeling in Hawaii, kayaking in Alaska, seeing the lights of Disney World. I technically can remember all of these things, and my god do I have a lot to draw upon when I take the time to remember it, but it's not my default. But since my mom will no doubt be worried that I am unhappy: don't.
C. I can say I love Sarah Schreitmueller with the same conviction.
She, more than anyone else at this point, has been through the most with me. However (haha, she knew that word was coming), our relationship has always been the most tumultuous. Is that how they work? The deeper the connection, the more extreme the variation? There has always been this sense of missed opportunity, but at this point we both wonder if that has always been more for nostalgia's sake than anything else. I mean, the opportunity was missed so many years ago that at this point it's not even that it's being missed. And now that it's been missed, we know too much (know better than) to ever try again. Yet we still flirt with the idea (each other) occasionally. I don't think there are secrets I keep from her. There are some I keep for her. Those aren't mine to share, even in a post about secret-sharing. I suppose there are secrets I keep about her/us from others. 1) Even after I have told myself we won't ever "be together" I get jealous of her boyfriends. I know it's illogical. I doubt it needs explanation. 2) Some part of me will always want to ignore all the very good reasons we are incompatible. I have come to terms with that, I think.
D. Kids
I am afraid of screwing one up so much that I have vowed never to have one. I can remember so many things that made (make) me unhappy that I can't will that upon anyone else. I know I am happy to be alive, but I still can't quite make the leap that it's logical for me to be happy to be alive. I have plenty of other reasons I also believe for not having kids. I give those reasons first. I don't think that the world needs more people. I don't think that I will be happy financially or schedule-wise if I have a kid. I do think that whoever I decide to marry will be enough for me, and that I want to have a relationship where our focus is mainly on each other. So I won't have kids. But other people's sure are great.
E. My dad (don't worry, these aren't in order or anything (any more than the order they spilled out of my head).
I love my dad, but I can feel it transforming all the time. It used to be a profound respect, admiration, etc. and it scares me that it's changing. Handball has really served as a sort of culmination of how it has happened. Around middle school-age, I remember coming to an abrupt realization that my dad wasn't actually "good" at sports. Of course, I was terrible, but I can still remember one occasion at Roosevelt Elementary when we were playing soccer and my perception shifted. His form was terrible. Sure, it worked just fine, and heck, he might even have beaten me (probably did if I can't remember it, right?), but his stride wasn't how it "should" look when dribbling, his windup wasn't "correct," etc. (I don't know whether I should include mitigating statements like "I value the time we spent together and I don't care that his form was bad." Of course that's true. I assume he knows that's true. He might even know his form isn't great.) Similarly, his tennis stroke is pretty bad. As I got better at things, the disparities became more and more obvious, so it makes sense that now, with handball, it has reached the most extreme. When I got to college (and maybe a bit before that), another change occurred. I used to be afraid of him being angry/upset/frustrated. But, like me, that's just how he gets sometimes. Once I realized how similar we were in that regard, it was almost impossible to take him seriously anymore. His frustration with navigating the car, the referees at a sporting event, or (seemingly) any piece of technology he came in contact with became "just another thing that dad does." I think this is partly because I know that even the moment, I am aware that the frustration, while obviously maddening, is only temporary. So I knew both that his frustration was temporary, and that he (probably) also knows that his frustration is temporary. I adopted the eye roll/shoulder shrug combo as my go-to reaction (accompanied by meaningful, humoring glances to my mom if she is present). This isn't to say that I'm not frustrated sometimes, especially when in public, but I know that I'm that way enough of the time that it all balances out. Plus, my frustration at his frustration is only temporary, right?
F. Exes
1) I'm afraid I would get back together with Rebecca if she wanted to. I am afraid at what this says about me. Actually, that's not quite accurate. I am actually quite sure I wouldn't get back together with Rebecca, since my self-esteem, arrogance, resentment, and rationality would preclude that. What I'm really afraid of is the amount of time I would spend worrying about the decision. I assume this is a byproduct of my still-confused state. This is closely related to the post I am composing to immediately follow this one, so this "secret" will just be a placeholder for that in its entirety.
2) I loved Hiwot, but I still can't quite figure out what that was. It started as philos, and then skipped to a pseudo-agape, then retreated into eros, then finished somewhere in the middle of all three. Does that even make sense? My secret in this case is that I wasn't even attracted to her until a year (or more) after we were "dating." It was the definition of "grows on you." It sucked because at the same time, I was quite attracted to her best friend, and that took no time at all. It's weird to say it started as philos, because that has a cerebral connotation. The thing that attracted me the most was how god damn nice she was. She wasn't brilliant, I didn't find her physically attractive, but after hanging out with her for a year, I loved her. Of course I was eventually physically attracted to her. This scares me because looking back, she wasn't really "my type" at all. Her emails were incredibly girly (stereotypically so) and exhibit a lack of spelling and grammar. She wasn't athletic, and didn't really try to be. And yet I loved her. So does that mean I could love anyone who was nice to me? That's disturbing? Does it mean I could love anyone at all? I hope not! But I don't know. I've dated the only two girls who have pursued me and shown a modicum of decency. (Sarah gets a pass because she never formally pursued me until after it was obvious the idea of us being together was "indecent." Mallory, a girl from my statistics class, pursued me but showed nothing that would separate her from a rock as a candidate for a relationship. We went out on a date once, even. Nothing.) Related to both Hiwot and Sarah: my relationship with Hiwot formally ended when I kissed Sarah. Things were not great before that, obviously, or it wouldn't have entered my mind. I don't think I've mentioned this to very many people. I always just say the underlying causes: we were committed to the relationship on different levels (I was actually more serious than her; she wouldn't move in with me when I asked), she thought argumentation was a problem in a relationship (it's hard to argue with that) while I wanted to hash out our differences all the time, and most of all, she stopped laughing when I made jokes and didn't react to my romantic gestures (I planned a "really elaborate" Valentine's Day (judge by broke college kid standards)). That stuff is all just rationalizing.
G. Other people
I love my grandma. I don't actually know her as a person, though, so it's a weird love (maybe between agape and philos). It's like getting married in Vegas and never finding a reason to get divorced. I made a decision without knowing all the facts, and I still don't know all the facts. I get little hints all the time, either from my mom or brief interaction, but she is still awesome. Even her quirks (the ones I know about) are endearing. I'm sure there are plenty of reasons not to love her, but in this case, I resolve to remain willfully ignorant.
The rest of my family is just that: part of my family. I'm sorry if you wanted more, but that's a lot of detail. I know my aunt and her husband read this occasionally. I don't really have any secrets concerning them. I still remember a time (at Disney World) where I made my mom unhappy and Joyce grabbed my arm (really hard, actually) and said something in the meanest tone of voice. I don't resent her for it, but it made my list of events indelibly etched in memory. From that point on, I don't think I was ever going to really "get close" with her (not that it would have happened anyway). It was the reason to get divorced after the Vegas wedding. (I really like that analogy!)
What other categories of secrets are there?
I judge people based on their appearance. Even based on their facial structure. I judge them based on their accent, on their skin color, on their posture. (I am also willing to revise this opinion.) For instance, upon first impression (a bunch of years ago), I didn't like Kurt (my sister's boyfriend). I made a bunch of incorrect assumptions that I can't even remember right now, but I readily admit now not only that I was wrong, but that he's actually a really cool guy. I don't feel like we get along that well, but objectively (and subjectively), he's awesome.
See, that just became another "secret" about a particular person. They guy in the video got off easy being a racist. I guess I'm a racist too, since I judge people on skin color? But not really, since I don't judge someone based on their skin color any more than I judge them for having missing teeth, mispronouncing words, or gesturing pretentiously. So I'm a people-ist?
I can't think of many right now. Those are the big ones, I think. Smaller ones include the fact that I do care what I look like (and as a result of my disgust of that, I overcorrect), I don't shower, I don't know anything about computers (other than how google works), and I don't care what most people think about me (but think that's weird, and then try to make them like me anyway). Actually that's sort of an interesting one. I think the most accurate way of putting it is that I don't think that people have the right to have an opinion about me, so I don't respect what they think of me, even though I do sort of care. This no doubt ties into my superiority complex. It also conflicts hilariously with my snap-judging of other people.
I look back at my philosophy papers and wonder who wrote them. It's so true that philosophy is a world reserved for the academics for academic's sake. I remember being happy in philosophy. I wonder if I would be happy there now. (That's not a secret!)
I want to be a writer. I know that on a deep, fundamental, basic, other-word-for-core, level. I don't know if that's a secret. If it is, it's as much a secret from myself as it is from anyone else. I plan on writing more about that in the post I'm interrupting by writing this. If I don't I'll come back here and edit.
Are sexual encounters secrets? I don't want them on the internet, even if they are. If you really want to know, get in touch with me, I guess? I've never been that shy about talking about sex. It just doesn't happen that much (the sex, or the talking about it...).
I am insecure. I bet you know this already.
I have written three suicide notes.
I will cheat at things if I know I can get away with it. I very rarely find justification for it, but that doesn't change the fact that I have no real barrier in my mind.
Every year around my birthday I seriously consider drinking. I've still never done it. Is that worthy of "secret" status? I came closer this year than usual. A new place, nothing to lose, and people were already meeting at a bar. I also seriously consider buying alcohol by myself and getting drunk just to see what it's like once every month or so. This is probably stupid compared to the suicide notes stuff, huh? To me, there is very little difference between the debates. Maybe that's weirder than either of them.
I really, really want to believe in God.
I judge people harshly right away if they make their religious views obvious.
I have no interest in being a lawyer. I really like school though.
I want to get in a fight. I want to know what it feels like to punch and get punched and know it's real.
Well, I made it to twenty-five with all of those issues. I don't think talking about them made them go away, but if you want further clarification about anything, you probably know how to reach me. If not, you can always comment!
If I think of more I'll post them here as a postscript. It might be interesting to see how many occur before and after the sign-off. I'll make a note in whatever entry I'm writing at the time so you know I've added another secret. I'm sure there are plenty I'm forgetting. This is just a few hours' worth.
My intention was not to offend anyone. Like I said, the point of this was in the hope of not worrying about this stuff again. Like Childish Gambino says:
This isn’t a story about how girls are evil or how love is bad, this is a story about how I learned something and I’m not saying this thing is true or not, I’m just saying it’s what I learned. I told you something. It was just for you and you told everybody. So I learned cut out the middle man, make it all for everybody, always. Everybody can’t turn around and tell everybody, everybody already knows, I told them. But this means there isn’t a place in my life for you or someone like you. Is it sad? Sure. But it’s a sadness I chose.
So I told everybody. I'm sure I haven't told you all everything yet, but I'll work on it.
Thanks for reading!
PS: (2/2/14): (Like I mentioned, everything after this point will be an edit.) I feel awkward every time I swear. Some people (like my friend Brian Burke) swear with an ease that amazes and impresses me. His demeanor doesn't change depending on his audience, he just says "my fuckin' next door neighbor is fuckin' crazy." And then launches into his profanity-laden story. And it's awesome. I don't have that comfort. I still swear, especially around handball players, but I bet I sound unconvincing. I know I sound unconvincing to myself.
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