Note: Complete and possibly utter useless self-analysis follows.
My schema when it comes to people is that they are puzzles. I meet someone, and if I find him mildly interesting, I want to figure him out. This rule generally applies to men. What makes him tick? What and who does he love? Is he passionate? What are his vulnerabilities? Why does he act the way he does? What caused him to have such-and-such complex?
Basically, I reduce people to a puzzle to be solved and end up treating them like a clinician, asking question after question in order to diagnose the "problem." When I figure out the problem, I want to fix it. It's like this when anyone comes to me for advice (most of the time the person only wants me to listen, but somehow I miss that memo) — friends, family, lovers, strangers, etc. My want to fix people also comes from a desire to control others. If I can't control myself, specifically my emotions, then I need to control something else. Controlling my eating habits doesn't work, but it must in some way if I still attempt to. Controlling others doesn't work, either. It rips relationships apart.
This is a horrible way to treat people. People have complex emotions, and oftentimes they don't even understand them. These feelings can't necessarily be reduced into smaller pieces that are able to fit neatly into a larger whole. A whole (person) cannot be reduced to the sum of its parts (emotions, judgments, personality, intellect).
I don't like being treated like a case study. I sincerely apologize to anyone I've ever done this to...which is basically everyone I've ever met.
This song has relevance to the topic (I am the verse, you are the chorus):
A picture of a picture of 18 year old me, a little shorter than 6 year old me.
Nineteen year old me; it looks longer than it actually was.
Nineteen year old me, after I got a haircut summer of 2007.
And then I decided to grow my hair out when I was 20. It was a normal brown.
Taken in Amsterdam summer of 2009. I'd had enough of "long" hair and cut it off.
And then I'd had enough of "short" hair and got it cut shorter that same summer.
And even after that, fall of 2009, I said "fuck you shorter short hair! I'm chopping you off!" (And I have no recollection of this girl's name...)
And as I'm doing this now, I'm getting really confused about the years I was in school. I went to three different schools and graduated in 3 1/2 years, so it gets confusing. But, this was a year after the aforementioned picture. Really, this is my favorite kind of cut. Not too pretty, not too ugly, just messy enough so I don't have to wash it every day.
Fall of 2010, the semester I graduated, I decided to go red. With a box. It looked like I had blood wounds on my scalp, and looking back, my hair looked unhealthy. But I do love this color.
And then I got my hair cut again, to a very similar cut I'd had before! I'm so creative with my hair cuts.
Awkward in-between stage. My hair was asking itself, "Am I long hair, or am I short hair? I AM SO CONFUSED." This was a roughly a month ago.
Finally I got my hair chopped off again and dyed chocolate brown last weekend. Don't cha just love it? I know you can see all the intricacies of the cut!
There, that's a little better. I talked it over with photobooth, and we decided to have a spur of the moment photoshoot to honor my "new" hair.
And look! I got this killer watch today, for $23 bucks. The brand is Flüd. Ever heard of it?
I hope that journey wasn't too boring. If it was, I'm not terribly sorry. Besides, I highly doubt I'll ever post this many pictures of me ever again. Also, I love it when bloggers post their pictures extra-large. It's easier for me to see all the detail.
Happy Mother's Day to all the would-be could-be should-be mothers! (And actual mothers, too.)