Flashback Friday – 15.02.13

I know those of you reading this are expecting a Flashback Friday. A day/episode in my life written in book form. The problem is I cannot continue (I use that word loosely as I have only written 1 story). My issue is that I haven’t done much worth writing about. I mean I could write about my sexual escapades or my story of love and heartbreak but in the same breathe I cannot. Of the few people that read this blog many of them are old friends, family members or acquaintances. Herein lies my problem. I do not wish my Mother to know some of the horrible stories of my sex life. I also do not wish to taint some very fond memories I have with certain people by putting them onto the interweb. In hindsight FF was a bad idea.

So instead of Flashback Friday I will try to write just one odd blog on a random day discussing my innermost thoughts in a “stream of conscience” type of way. I will not be starting today. I read “The Fault in Our Stars” by John Green last night in 1 sitting and am currently 1/3rd of the way through “The Perks of being a Wallflower” by Stephen Chbosky. Nothing I could write will read right to me. Most of what I write will be mimicking their styles as their stories are in the forefront of my mind right now.

With the disappointment of this post I leave you only with the assurance that I will post a fresh piece of my own writing on Monday. Whether it be the next 1000 words to carry on from last Monday or a new piece is yet to be decided. I guess we will have to wait and see.

Wednesday’s Wanderings – 13.02.13

The nature of ‘Happiness’

As life passes by we often ask ourselves how we can be happier. With the recession, high un-employment, an increase in crime, rising living cost, etc, it seems the search for happiness remains a mystery. A prize that is lost at the end of a rainbow. Where can we find a map to get to the end? To find happiness? The answer to these questions seem to be littered throughout every book store in the world. Entire sections are dedicated to well-being, positive thinking and healthy lifestyles. All of these books are promoted by people with Cheshire cat grins and over-the-top proclamations of how “this can change your life”.

Before we delve into the cultural phenomenon that is self-improvement I want to go back to basics.

What is ‘Happiness’? Happiness is a mental or emotional state of well-being. Happiness is characterized by positive or pleasant emotions.

Biologically, happiness is a state induced by high levels of serotonin (5-HT). 5-HT is a neurotransmitter that is used mostly to control your GI tract and Central Nervous System. This heightened level of serotonin causes mood changes, behavioural differences and a heightened CNS (also known as fight or flight). Serotonin is an inhibitory neurotransmitter which counteracts excitatory neurotransmitters. In a normal, calm human, the levels of 5-HT and the excitatory neurotransmitter GABA are balanced. When something in our surrounding changes, one of our 5 senses pick up on this and cause a change in levels of 5-HT and GABA which affect our mood.

The most common factor in biological happiness is food. There are 2 distinct types of ‘food happy’. Comfort foods affect us psychologically whereas certain foods affect us physiologically. Comfort foods vary from person to person but our gender plays a big part (I would give you the link to the survey I read on this but I honestly can‘t remember where I read it, nor can I be bothered to hunt for it). Females tend to favour sweet foods, while men prefer savoury foods. The problem with comfort foods is that because the change in neurotransmitters is reliant on the memory of this food making you happy, the change is not sustainable and will dwindle in just a few minutes. Sushi is the main food which affects our physiology. Because of a type of acid called DHA (a major ingredient in Omega 3 fish oil), sushi has the ability to cause a huge increase in 5-HT production. This spike in 5-HT has a prolonged effect on our body causing a sense of prolonged happiness.

So with both the basic dictionary definition and the biological proof of how we become “happy” out of the way, I would like to touch on a few other theories to do with happiness. Starting with self-actualization.

Self-Actualization has become a very common word within the cult/religious/better-lifestyle area of reading. Kurt Goldstein is the psychologist who coined the term self-actualization in his book The Organism. I’m paraphrasing here but the jist of it is: In an effort to become truly happy one must actualize, as much as possible, ones individual capacities. To fulfil ones potential.
Using Goldstein’s theory another psychologist, Abraham Maslow, created a pyramid called ‘The Hierarchy of Needs’ (Below) This hierarchy is the breakdown of the path to fulfilment and self-actualization.

Using Goldstein and Maslow’s works as a backdrop, American psychologist Martin Seligman created a simpler, more accessible definition of self-actualization. Seligman coined the acronym PERMA, which describes the 5 things that evoke happiness.
Pleasure – Things such as good food, comfortable environments, etc.
Engagement – Doing something which engages you. Things like reading, video games or puzzles.
Relationships – Self-explanatory
Meaning – A sense of higher purpose. (Directly correlated with religion)
Accomplishments – Completing a set challenge or goal.

In Buddhism happiness is a central theme. The Fourth of the Four Noble Truths is the Noble Eightfold Path. The journey to self-awakening in Nirvana (The place of eternal peace). The eight elements are: view, intention, speech, action, livelihood, effort, mindfulness and concentration. By attaining each of the eight elements Buddhists believe they can achieve eternal peace and awakening.

To me, religion and psychology go hand in hand. The belief that by following a task list of doing a, b and c, you will reach a place of eternal happiness. I think this is bullshit and I’ll explain why.

Sociopathic personality disorder. A person (me) with this disorder holds antisocial views and a distinct lack of conscience or emotion. This disorder is directly linked with low levels of 5-HT. Disorders such as Williams syndrome are linked with high levels of 5-HT. This causes over friendliness and a cheerful demeanour. (Disclaimer – I am completely aware of the 100’s of other things that are effected by these disorders. I am using the ones that are necessary to my point)

I live a normal life and am able, if I wanted to, go about achieving each of the steps of Maslow’s hierarchy or follow the Noble Eightfold Path. This wouldn’t change my physiology. No lifestyle change can permanently affect my physiological makeup. Someone with Williams syndrome does not have the mental capability to understand and achieve the self-actualization or self-awakening without the aid of another, mentally able, adult. Again, by not completing any of these self-a’s the genetic makeup is not changed and their levels of 5-HT will not be changed.

For these simple reasons I discount both the religious and psychological theories and revert to sticking with the biological research as fact. (Disclaimer – just because I discount these theories on this topic doesn’t mean I will not continue to read, learn and listen to what they teach as everything has a place and there is nothing that I cannot learn from, no matter how small)

Now for the interesting question. Is happiness measurable or subjective?

There are 3 generally recognised measurable tests for happiness. The Subjective Happiness Scale (SHS), The Positive and Negative Affect Schedule (PANAS) and The Satisfaction With Life Scale (SWL). All use a questionnaire and are based on a numerical system working between 2 extremes. Very normal stuff. My issue is that my level of serotonin varies massively. I could be in an uncomfortable place when taking the test, momentarily skewing my score due to my varied mood. I could have just had some sushi. For me a more reliable test is the Subjective Well-Being (SWB) test. This factors in personality traits, moods, general satisfaction with life, quality of life, the list goes on. The SWB tests personality traits and genetic predispositions to establish a baseline for the actual test. This to me would produce a more accurate results. Despite all the factors and baselines and variables in the SWB test, I do not believe happiness is measurable.

I actually do not believe in happiness. The same way I don’t believe in depression (another day maybe). Happiness is a word we use to describe a temporary mood. The key word being temporary. Despite a low level of 5-HT I feel content. I do not feel restless or uneasy or worried. My moods shift in different ways and on different levels but I do not feel happy or sad all the time. No-one does. I feel that self-actualization and self-awakening is just a fancy way of saying you have a clear head. When you are free of debris of the brain you can think clearly and logically, although there is little logical about religion. This clear thinking means that outside influences have less of an effect on you. This does not change your biological makeup – if you eat sushi you will still have a heightened mood – it simply gives you a better control of the temporary shifts in mood.

Now back to the self-help, self-improvement books. First I would like to point out the glaring irony of needing a book written by someone else to help you on the road to SELF improvement. I’m also aware of the contradiction that Buddhist’s have to be taught by someone to follow the path of self-awakening but Buddhism doesn’t flaunt its teachings for £14.99, or spend £19.99 and get a free health magazine subscription and a gym ball. The feeling of self importance is something that everyone should feel at one point in their life. Once that feeling has been achieved by all means help whoever you want but do not – for the sake of my love of bookstores – write a book claiming you know the key to eternal happiness.

My closing quote for today is: The only person that can change you is you. Do not let others tell you that you can’t do something. Your physiology will gradually change but your genetic makeup will not. Live with it, adapt and do the things that make you feel euphoric and don’t dwell on the things that do the opposite. Also, don’t go into the self-help section of Waterstones. It’s where Satan lives.

Monday Monologue – 11.02.13

Todays Monday Monologue is the opening few pages from a novel I started writing. I have no real plans to finish it so I thought I should post it on here and see what everyone thinks.

Mornings in New York are dull. The inevitability of clouds – especially in March – The drone of taxi cabs mixed with the overly fussy palaver that is New Yorkers going to work. As I wake up to this nonsense, on what will be my first real day of work in my short yet fruitful life, I feel anxious.

Its not like the normal dread of facing humans and the humdrum of another day without a job, without income and without friends. Today the feeling of dread goes much deeper. Angst, nervousness and general irritability interrupt my morning routine.

The low morning light ekes through my poorly put-up Venetian blinds causing me to stir from a dream about a pair of Manolo Blanichs I cannot afford. As I try to entice my legs to move from my far too comfortable bed I notice that my alarm hasn’t gone off. Panic! “Please don’t be late, please don’t be late, please don’t be late” I repeat franticly as I search for my phone. 06:28. PHEW! Two minutes before my alarm is due to go off. Great. At least I’m up now.

Walking from my bedroom to my bathroom is decidedly easier in this tiny studio apartment than it was in my college dorms. The distance between the right side of the bed (why anyone would sleep on the left I don’t know) and the toilet is a mere 6 steps. The entire main room is no bigger than a post-it note.

The daily text from my Mom comes through at 06:45, like clockwork. Although today she can wait for a reply as personal hygiene is a bit further up my to-do list than usual.

A 15 minute shower precedes a fight with my hair, of which I lose. Trying to wash curly hair is a nightmare at the best of times. Half asleep, still dazed by the shoes I’ve just had a lucid dream about makes washing, conditioning and detangling all the more stressful.

I blame my Mom. The curly hair had to come from somewhere. Given my Father is bald, the blame lands firmly in the female-that-bore-me’s court.

After giving up with the locks and settling for acceptable I move onto my face. I have naturally dry skin. With the added stresses of a new job and moving house it is looking all the more worse for wear.

I rarely wear make-up. Lacking a social life means I haven’t needed to. I like it that way. Although the prospect of a Wall Street office building full of people judging me as the new girl forces me to endure the horrific task of applying foundation, blusher, lipstick, mascara and eyeliner. All of which I picked up from the drug store yesterday for this very occasion.

I have no idea what the other personal assistants (glorified secretaries/slaves) look like so I will have to dress conservatively. A primarily black and grey wardrobe comes in handy for the first time in my life. A body hugging grey pinstripe knee length dress, a black pencil skirt with white frilly blouse or a black with grey pinstripe suit?

Opting for the blouse and skirt combo with a black blazer and my favourite green handbag. It all fits and the bag helps bring out the green in my eyes. All in all a good effort I think.

As I lock the door to my apartment I get that wave of dread that I’ve forgotten something important. Keys, phone, purse, drivers license. Ok I think I have it all.

The smell in this building is foul. A mixture of bodily fluids and garbage. It stings my nose and I fear it will leave a lasting odour on my clothes.

Breaking into a near sprint to get out into the fresh – I use that term loosely – air of the Southbank, nearly falling over as I’m more used to my Nike’s than a 4 inch heel.

My nose takes a while to adjust from the indoor smell to the toxic pollution that is clean New York air.

After dodging a garbage truck – that I’m certain was aiming for me – and a group of bankers that were trying to drink coffee, eat breakfast and yell down the phone at the same time, pausing only to tell me to watch where I was going, I make it to the coffee shop in one piece.

Coffee shops are normally my sanctuary. A great place to come and read, the smell of fresh coffee gives my senses a euphoric feeling – the sort of high I expect drug users get – and the décor is usually cosy and homily. This one is no different.

Thick wooden beams staggered across the low ceiling, a mixture of old, beaten up fabric sofas and new modern leather chairs make up much of the furniture. A panoramic glass window covers 2 walls, giving a great view to watch the hustle and bustle of day to day New York and a picturesque look over the Southbank. The mellow music played in the background – I think its Morcheeba – sets the mood.

No surprise, there was a queue. No less than 10 people all checking their watches periodically as if they cannot stand still for more than 2 minutes or they will internally combust.

The New York psyche astounds me. Being a small town girl from England I’ve never understood the rush to get anywhere – this is probably a large factor in why I took up long distance running over sprints – either way, everyone’s rush to get everything done puts me on edge.

I catch myself checking my own watch as I near the front of the queue.

Friday’s Flashback – 08.02.13

“Have a good day at school son” She says, visibly holding back the tears.

“I will Mum. See you later” I wave goodbye as I entered the big blue school for the last time.

The air is thick; A mixture of humidity and excitement fill the playground. The usual clicks are going about their morning rituals: the popular boys playing football, the girls giggling on the sidelines and the teachers on the far side of the tarmac conversing about something too important for us children to hear.

Today was different though. I felt like it was. The last day of primary school. ‘7 years of learning down only 5 more to go.’ At least that was what most of the boys were saying.

Not me. I have plans. I want to be something, do something, go somewhere. Cambridge. Maybe even Oxford. I’ll either be a Doctor or a Mathematician.

I’m smart enough. I read the entire school library before I entered year 6, got some of the highest Year 6 SATS results in the school when I was 9 and I’m learning more and more everyday. The idea of secondary school, with a big library and better teachers excites me.

Steven, Bharat, Dean are my best – and only real – friends. We are the 4 smartest students in the school; although this last year we haven’t been treated like it. Despite being 11 our combined IQ is close to 400.

Walking towards my friends, that were waiting in our usual place in the shade, I felt a rush of blood course through my body.

A heightened sense of awareness wouldn’t be a normal occurrence for most boys walking across a playground; it is for me.

“James, look out” Dean yells.

I turn around just in time to see an open palm come flying at my face. Unable to avoid it, I’m hit with a pain that is increased 10 fold by the state of hyper-awareness I’m in.

This action is a daily thing now. Almost entirely carried out by Chris.

Chris is a boy my age, a little smaller in size – I’m not by any means big – he lives with his older brother and his Mum a few streets from the school. He says his Dad is in prison, which given his actions isn’t unbelievable. I don’t know why he picks on me but my Mum always taught me not to fight back.

I just suck up the pain and carry on towards the few people in the world I don’t fear or loathe with contempt.

“What was that for?” Bharat asks.

“I don’t know. Can we just go inside please.” I reply.

While Dean and I talk about the latest Dragonball Z episode – it’s the Android Saga and Roshi’s Island had just been invaded by 16, 17 and 18 – Bharat and Steven walk quietly with us.

Steven was never one for words. He is probably the smartest of us all. Quite tall for his age; one of the tallest boys in our school. He speaks with a hushed tone; almost mouse like. When he does speak it is always something insightful.

Bharat and Dean are the vocal boys in our group. If we ever had to do presentations then Dean would be the one to do the talking.

As the bell rings I’m already firmly sat in my seat. I can’t be poked or punched or tripped up if I’m sat in the corner of the room.

The rest of the class file in with Chris predictably late. While ignoring the teacher he shoots a look in my direction. I just look away and ignore it; I know I’ll come to regret that later.

As it’s the last day of school Mrs T has got the TV and video for us to watch. I’m not too fussed about it as I’ve got my head in Prince Caspian for the 50th time.

The lunch bell shocks me out of my zone. Where the last few hours have gone I do not know.

“What have you got for lunch?” Dean asks.

“Cheese sandwiches” Steven replies.

I wonder if I’ll ever meet another human as bland and fussy an eater as Steven.

“I don’t know what’s in my batches today. I haven’t looked” says Bharat.

I know what’s in mine; Ham and salad cream. The same as every other day. I hate salad cream. The boys have stopped asking me because they know I never eat them.

As we walk down the corridor towards the playground I hear Mrs T yell.

“NO SWEAR WORDS!”

The age old tradition of signing school shirts on the last day of school has commenced. I won’t even be asking anyone.

“James. Can I sign your shirt” screams Jess as she comes running towards me.

“Erm…I guess so” I reply.

I feel a warm, fuzzy emotion bubble up inside me. I have no idea why Jess wants to sign my shirt but despite my reservations it feels good.

As me and Dean are walking and talking about Dragonball Z some more we are being interrupted every few minutes by more people coming up to sign our shirts and asking us to sign them back. This is the most popular I’ve ever felt.

“Oi James” Chris yells.

I turn around to see the boy I loathe the most walking towards me with a marker pen in hand. I automatically think he’s going to write on my arm or face.

“Turn around and let me sign your shirt” he says once he’s within arms reach.

I turn around submissively. I know he won’t hit me when Dean’s around but that doesn’t stop my heart from racing.

After hearing the cap go on the marker and Chris laughing as he walks away I breathe a sigh of relief.

Dean and I carry on our conversation until the bell rings again. Only 2 more hours and I leave primary school for good. Excitement, fear, anticipation. My heart rate quickens again.
There is a queue to get in the classroom as Mrs T checks everyone’s shirts for swearwords. I can’t see any on mine so I walk in confidently.

“James. Go and get changed into your P.E shirt now!” she screams as I turn around.

For the 5th time today my heart races. What is on my shirt? Who did it?

The cloakroom is busy; I guess there were a lot of swear words written today. I walk over to my P.E bag. Lee lets out a laugh as I walk past.

Stood topless I check my shirt for offensive words. There’s nothing on the front. I flip it over.

FUCKING GEEK is written in red pen across the back.

“Chris. Did you write this?” I ask.

Chris starts walking over from the other side of the room. My heart quickens again.

“What if I did?” he replies.

“Nothing. I was just asking” I say trying to defuse this situation before it gets worse.

“Are you being cheeky?”

“No, no. I was just asking”

Whimpering away I realise I’m getting close to the wall. It may hurt if he pushes me against it.

I try to walk past him, still topless, but he pushes me. He must have had his leg behind mine as I’m now lay on the cold tiles.

Jumping on top of me I beg him to just let me go. My heart is at 200bpm and I have fear running through every nerve in my body. Fight or flight kicks in and all I want to do is fly.

Turning to my left underneath him in a vain effort to protect myself just seems to aggravate him more. He starts unleashing punches on my upper arm.

All I want to do is die.

I assume Chris is bored of my crying and cowering as he gets up and walks off without so much as a word.

I’m left alone, shirtless and in tears on the floor of a cloakroom. Surely this isn’t how I’m suppose to remember my last day at school?

Still crying I pick myself up, throw on my P.E shirt and walk back into class.

“James come outside” Mrs T says.

I am at my most vulnerable. The most internal, introverted state I’ve been in since the spider incident last year.

“What happened?”

Mrs T’s voice is so soft I just can’t hold back the tears.

“It…it…it was Chris” I mumble between snorts and coughs from the salty taste of my tears.

“Go to the toilet, clean yourself up then come back and sit down. We’re going to watch another film this afternoon and then it’s the summer holidays. You‘ll be fine.”

I walk off without saying anything. Mrs T is right. The summer is 2 hours away. I’m big enough to last 2 hours. The fear of what Chris can do to me is lessened knowing my Mum will be waiting for me at the gate.

Stood in front of the sink I avoid looking in the mirror. I hate seeing myself cry. All I can think is how weak I must look.

I cannot go into big school this weak. I’m smart. I should be able to change myself so I never look this weak again.

Wednesday’s Wanderings – 06/02/2013

Wednesday’s Wanderings Disclaimer

All of my other blogs will, I intend, be structured, cohesive and eloquent. Wednesday’s Wanderings will be full of colloquialisms (I just cut ‘on the other hand’ from this sentence), philosophical interjections which hold no weight or bearing and will probably never be elaborated on and random trains of thought that may offend, disturb and/or annoy those of you with moral and ethical hearts.

This leads directly into my topic for today.

The Line

“ You’ve crossed the line”

“That’s out of line”

How many times have we heard these phrases in our lifetime? What does it mean to you?

This is a huge issue with me. I speak openly about everything. I purposefully turn my speech filter off as I would rather be 100% honest and hurt someone’s feelings than lie. This imaginary line that I perceive to be ones threshold of truth – where truth becomes to blunt, plain honest, realistic and logical that emotions flair up and get in the way.

I myself do not tow this ’line’. I hold no ill feelings towards those that speak candidly of me, on the assumption that it is said to my face. I do however begrudge anyone who dare act one way to my face and another behind my back. Not least because I can read peoples faces better than most (a topic for another day) but also because the duality of man lies only in their choice to split personalities (also a topic for another day).

Back to ‘the line’. In what situation does one cross ‘the line‘?

In my experience replacing a white lie with the truth is hurtful but does not do any undue harm in the long run. However, replacing silence with the truth is harmful. This is where lines are crossed. More often than not this is done without thinking. A harmless, off the cuff statement of fact or opinion that someone takes offence to. Herein lies my issue.

The line is crossed when one person takes offence to another’s statement.

As Spock once said “Logic clearly dictates that the need of the many outweigh the needs of the few.” “Or One” as Kirk interjects.

Now. If the statement was a statement of FACT my gripe becomes that of logic. If a fact is stated, assuming that the fact is based on proof and can be justified in discussion, then no feelings should be affected. A fact is a fact. You cannot argue feelings over fact. The logic stands. Logic is, in my eyes, the be all and end all of everything. One person getting butt-hurt over a single statement of fact does not nullify the fact. No line was crossed. The person that tries to argue that feelings should be taken into account when making a statement of fact is not thinking logically. All arguments can, and should be solved by fact, not feelings. Feelings are individual, illogical and vary wildly from person to person. To the person that gets hurt by a statement of fact, I pity you.

On the other hand, if the statement was a statement of OPINION my gripe is irrelevant. I cannot argue my opinion on a topic against another without fact. Opinions vary as do feelings. Which is why they go hand in hand in many arguments. I for instance feel that a worldwide euthanasia of certain people would be beneficial to our generation and that of future generations. My problem occurs when people argue that Hitler had the same idea. This is fact. The opinion battles comes when I explain that I don’t want to wipe out races. I want to removes burdens from society. This then crosses ethical boundaries. One’s that are quantifiable as ‘lines’. The Human Rights Act and the democracies that are in control of all major powers throughout the world prevent anyone from carrying out the acts that go with my opinions. My argument is: I have not crossed a line. As quantifiable as ethics are, they are still based on opinion and until opinions can be proved they can never be fact. Without fact you cannot determine ‘a line’. For this reason statements of opinion should hold no bearing on the feelings of others as you cannot change an opinion with an opinion. State fact or ignore. Simple, logical solutions which hold no emotional bearing.

These are simple things that I live by which leave me free of worry. I have my opinions, that I voice in openly but not in an effort to convert, I am not the Pope, I also do not hope others hold my opinions against me as I do not hold theirs against them. Painting all with one brush because of a simple statement of opinion is close minded and illogical. If you want to have more meaningful conversations which may result in you learning something that you were not previously aware of then an open, logical mind is a necessity. Without it you come across ignorant, bigoted and stupid, for lack of a better word.

With this I leave you a with my closing statement (of opinion) for today.

Logic and fact trumps opinion and emotions. For a more fruitful learning experience do not hold your opinions in higher esteem until they become fact. Also, try not to get butt-hurt when others say something that is opposite to your thinking. Maybe they know something you don’t. Learn before dismissing.