Vulnerability time again.
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@alice @autisticplushy I'm curious how Physchology research can become part of the job of a Computer graduate
What exactly is it that you do to earn the money to buy locks ?@Sobex my job (when I have one) is as an executive (CDO, Head of Data/Data Science), but my skillset is in predicting human behavior (typically at scale).
I originally went to college to become a criminal profiler for the FBI, then changed to computer science, because fuck the establishment (and I could make money right out of college, instead of needing advanced degrees and security clearances).
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Vulnerability time again.
So, in the bucket of "semi-innocuous things that can fuck you up for life", I cried this morning after waking from a stupid anxiety dream.
Why? Well strap in...
All my life people have told me I'm attractive (boo-hoo, right?). Which also means, all my life I've had people tell me I'm vain, or shallow, or that I'm using my looks manipulatively. People have also informed me that looks don't last, and that I'd "better have a plan B"¹ for when they inevitably fade.
¹ not that kind of plan B
And, with brains being the lovely little pattern-seeking machines they are, mine condensed this down to "People like/hate you for your looks. If you're not pretty enough, you're worthless; if you're too pretty you're a bad person".
I've written before about my ex-spouse who told me, in a crowded cafe, "people only listen to you because you're fuckable" (this was in response to telling them that two psychologists had favorably reviewed my paper on autism self-diagnostic criteria)
I've also written about how I never really found myself attractive until just recently (thanks therapy, healthy relationships, and Fedi). I recognized that other folx did—or at least said they did, but—with my lifelong history of abuse—I didn't see it. I think it took, at least in part, having a healthy, loving, asexual partner for me to start liking myself in new ways. And, as she said after I told her about the dream this morning, "if I'm using you for your body, I'm doing a really bad job of it"
So what was the dream? It was a pretty basic theater anxiety dream.
I was in a play (playing the male lead, I think), and I'd spent the morning doing my costume and makeup for the part. Someone ran by and let me know I was on in 7 minutes. It was then I realized no one had given me a script, and I didn't know anything about my lines or the play. A perfectly reasonable panic attack ensued, and then I woke up.
Now, I don't usually read into dreams; dreams are my brain's equivalent of DOS6 running defrag. But this one was pretty on the nose.
I had spent all my time trying to look the role, and had completely failed to do the part that matters...and now it was too late—I was the pretty one with no substance.
@alice "dreams are my brain's equivalent of DOS6 running defrag”
I absolutely love this description. I miss watching defrag!
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@alice The human mind can behave in some odd ways. Here's Professor Bergman in Space:1999 talking about humans and their brain potential.
Any dreams with negativity should always be consigned to the trash heap.
You are beautiful, kind, loving and considerate. We need more people to be like you.
As Carla said in Captain Kronos: Vampire Hunter said, "Beauty fades eventually, but a kind soul remains forever."
@CaptMikeYates lol, I always loved that "humans only use X% of their brains"; it's one of those "things everybody knows that just ain't so" as Carl Marx once said.
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@alice "dreams are my brain's equivalent of DOS6 running defrag”
I absolutely love this description. I miss watching defrag!
@XenoPhage me too. It always felt so satisfying to see the visual representation of reverse-entropy.
Meanwhile, I was storing my clothes in a searchable heap.
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@XenoPhage me too. It always felt so satisfying to see the visual representation of reverse-entropy.
Meanwhile, I was storing my clothes in a searchable heap.
@alice Was there a chair under the clothes? My wife used to have a clothes chair.. I had no idea there was a chair there until we moved.. Surprised the absolute shit out of me..
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@Aprazeth I do wish that we as a species celebrated doing things for the joy of it more, even—and especially—if we're bad at it.
I think it's both a type of gate-keeping, and a way to feel powerful without doing anything positive, when folx put someone down for not being as good at something.
For instance, I'm pretty good at Monster Hunter. It's been my favorite game series since MH3U (2013). I play online a lot, and I inevitably hear someone saying "stay at base noob", "get good", or some equally shitty suggestion to someone who carted (lost one of the group's shared lives).
Instead of shaming, I make it a point to protect newer folx when they enter the fray again, and give them a chance to learn (and also to block folx who act like assholes).
I love that game and, like with everything I love, I want to share it with as many people as possible, so they can experience that joy too (and so I can have one more person to geek out about my passions with).
It's a sad state to think you have to blow out someone else's candle to make yours look brighter.
Enjoying things has gotten so much easier for me since I have children. They just love everything as long as it's joyful. I sing for them, I tell them stories, I act out funny monsters, I draw everything they want drawn ... And at some of that I'm "good", at some of that I'm not. And it's so much fun!
(I mean, sometimes I'm tired and it feels more work than fun, but generally.)
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@Aprazeth I do wish that we as a species celebrated doing things for the joy of it more, even—and especially—if we're bad at it.
I think it's both a type of gate-keeping, and a way to feel powerful without doing anything positive, when folx put someone down for not being as good at something.
For instance, I'm pretty good at Monster Hunter. It's been my favorite game series since MH3U (2013). I play online a lot, and I inevitably hear someone saying "stay at base noob", "get good", or some equally shitty suggestion to someone who carted (lost one of the group's shared lives).
Instead of shaming, I make it a point to protect newer folx when they enter the fray again, and give them a chance to learn (and also to block folx who act like assholes).
I love that game and, like with everything I love, I want to share it with as many people as possible, so they can experience that joy too (and so I can have one more person to geek out about my passions with).
It's a sad state to think you have to blow out someone else's candle to make yours look brighter.
@alice @Aprazeth this is why I love adult figure skating. I’ll never be seriously competitive and that is great. I skate because I love it and I don’t have any of the baggage from doing it as a kid. I also know that every year things get harder for me to do so every time I learn something new it’s a double win. I’ll keep skating for as long as I can and that’s enough. I’m glad to see the women at the Olympics were having fun too, especially Alysa Liu. Before she quit, she could do quads and then she talked about how she had a *4 inch* growth spurt and couldn’t do them any more. But instead of mourning what was lost, she’s celebrating what she’s gained, confidence and happiness instead of stress and pressure.
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@Aprazeth I do wish that we as a species celebrated doing things for the joy of it more, even—and especially—if we're bad at it.
I think it's both a type of gate-keeping, and a way to feel powerful without doing anything positive, when folx put someone down for not being as good at something.
For instance, I'm pretty good at Monster Hunter. It's been my favorite game series since MH3U (2013). I play online a lot, and I inevitably hear someone saying "stay at base noob", "get good", or some equally shitty suggestion to someone who carted (lost one of the group's shared lives).
Instead of shaming, I make it a point to protect newer folx when they enter the fray again, and give them a chance to learn (and also to block folx who act like assholes).
I love that game and, like with everything I love, I want to share it with as many people as possible, so they can experience that joy too (and so I can have one more person to geek out about my passions with).
It's a sad state to think you have to blow out someone else's candle to make yours look brighter.
A saying comes to mind: "A rising tide raises all ships."
The game for me would be Deep Rock Galactic, where I do similar stuff at times. Its just more fun that way. Heck, I think most of my Steam contacts are people adding me for that reason
I honestly can't understand, nor would I want to, why some people feel that need to put others down, or to go through the same hardships in life. Why would you want anyone else to suffer like you did? Baffling
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@alice @Aprazeth this is why I love adult figure skating. I’ll never be seriously competitive and that is great. I skate because I love it and I don’t have any of the baggage from doing it as a kid. I also know that every year things get harder for me to do so every time I learn something new it’s a double win. I’ll keep skating for as long as I can and that’s enough. I’m glad to see the women at the Olympics were having fun too, especially Alysa Liu. Before she quit, she could do quads and then she talked about how she had a *4 inch* growth spurt and couldn’t do them any more. But instead of mourning what was lost, she’s celebrating what she’s gained, confidence and happiness instead of stress and pressure.
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This is, of course, not a fishing for support or compliments sort of post. I wanted to share so that folx have a little window into how our society forces unrealistic expectations on all of us in different ways. E.g. when everything is a competition, everyone loses most of the time.
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And if all fails, you still succeeded. You learned something, you had fun. You grew as a person.
The amount of quips we can share are precisely because of us just trying things. Even the things that didn't work out, perhaps especially those, have value. Sometimes as a little story, others as a life lesson.
Don't be scared of trying something (new) or not being the best at it.
Everyone likes an old person with lots of funny stories. So start making them
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@alice Was there a chair under the clothes? My wife used to have a clothes chair.. I had no idea there was a chair there until we moved.. Surprised the absolute shit out of me..
@XenoPhage right now I'm living out of a duffel bag...it's under the heap somewhere
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Vulnerability time again.
So, in the bucket of "semi-innocuous things that can fuck you up for life", I cried this morning after waking from a stupid anxiety dream.
Why? Well strap in...
All my life people have told me I'm attractive (boo-hoo, right?). Which also means, all my life I've had people tell me I'm vain, or shallow, or that I'm using my looks manipulatively. People have also informed me that looks don't last, and that I'd "better have a plan B"¹ for when they inevitably fade.
¹ not that kind of plan B
And, with brains being the lovely little pattern-seeking machines they are, mine condensed this down to "People like/hate you for your looks. If you're not pretty enough, you're worthless; if you're too pretty you're a bad person".
I've written before about my ex-spouse who told me, in a crowded cafe, "people only listen to you because you're fuckable" (this was in response to telling them that two psychologists had favorably reviewed my paper on autism self-diagnostic criteria)
I've also written about how I never really found myself attractive until just recently (thanks therapy, healthy relationships, and Fedi). I recognized that other folx did—or at least said they did, but—with my lifelong history of abuse—I didn't see it. I think it took, at least in part, having a healthy, loving, asexual partner for me to start liking myself in new ways. And, as she said after I told her about the dream this morning, "if I'm using you for your body, I'm doing a really bad job of it"
So what was the dream? It was a pretty basic theater anxiety dream.
I was in a play (playing the male lead, I think), and I'd spent the morning doing my costume and makeup for the part. Someone ran by and let me know I was on in 7 minutes. It was then I realized no one had given me a script, and I didn't know anything about my lines or the play. A perfectly reasonable panic attack ensued, and then I woke up.
Now, I don't usually read into dreams; dreams are my brain's equivalent of DOS6 running defrag. But this one was pretty on the nose.
I had spent all my time trying to look the role, and had completely failed to do the part that matters...and now it was too late—I was the pretty one with no substance.
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@flipper thanks
I made it with help of one of my Fedi friends; it's based on a photo of me after I dyed my hair those colors.(I couldn't find the one with the dress off and just the tank top, but this is from the same day)
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Vulnerability time again.
So, in the bucket of "semi-innocuous things that can fuck you up for life", I cried this morning after waking from a stupid anxiety dream.
Why? Well strap in...
All my life people have told me I'm attractive (boo-hoo, right?). Which also means, all my life I've had people tell me I'm vain, or shallow, or that I'm using my looks manipulatively. People have also informed me that looks don't last, and that I'd "better have a plan B"¹ for when they inevitably fade.
¹ not that kind of plan B
And, with brains being the lovely little pattern-seeking machines they are, mine condensed this down to "People like/hate you for your looks. If you're not pretty enough, you're worthless; if you're too pretty you're a bad person".
I've written before about my ex-spouse who told me, in a crowded cafe, "people only listen to you because you're fuckable" (this was in response to telling them that two psychologists had favorably reviewed my paper on autism self-diagnostic criteria)
I've also written about how I never really found myself attractive until just recently (thanks therapy, healthy relationships, and Fedi). I recognized that other folx did—or at least said they did, but—with my lifelong history of abuse—I didn't see it. I think it took, at least in part, having a healthy, loving, asexual partner for me to start liking myself in new ways. And, as she said after I told her about the dream this morning, "if I'm using you for your body, I'm doing a really bad job of it"
So what was the dream? It was a pretty basic theater anxiety dream.
I was in a play (playing the male lead, I think), and I'd spent the morning doing my costume and makeup for the part. Someone ran by and let me know I was on in 7 minutes. It was then I realized no one had given me a script, and I didn't know anything about my lines or the play. A perfectly reasonable panic attack ensued, and then I woke up.
Now, I don't usually read into dreams; dreams are my brain's equivalent of DOS6 running defrag. But this one was pretty on the nose.
I had spent all my time trying to look the role, and had completely failed to do the part that matters...and now it was too late—I was the pretty one with no substance.
@alice I only know you from reading your Mastodon posts, and the occasional interaction with you in the comments, but I can absolutely tell that you're a smart and lovely person with a lot of good inside of you, and that's special and amazing! And on top of that you're also pretty, btw
People will always find something to be mean and insincere about, but it matters not. You are who you are, and no one can change that, no matter how much negativity they spew!
You're an awesome person, Alice
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Vulnerability time again.
So, in the bucket of "semi-innocuous things that can fuck you up for life", I cried this morning after waking from a stupid anxiety dream.
Why? Well strap in...
All my life people have told me I'm attractive (boo-hoo, right?). Which also means, all my life I've had people tell me I'm vain, or shallow, or that I'm using my looks manipulatively. People have also informed me that looks don't last, and that I'd "better have a plan B"¹ for when they inevitably fade.
¹ not that kind of plan B
And, with brains being the lovely little pattern-seeking machines they are, mine condensed this down to "People like/hate you for your looks. If you're not pretty enough, you're worthless; if you're too pretty you're a bad person".
I've written before about my ex-spouse who told me, in a crowded cafe, "people only listen to you because you're fuckable" (this was in response to telling them that two psychologists had favorably reviewed my paper on autism self-diagnostic criteria)
I've also written about how I never really found myself attractive until just recently (thanks therapy, healthy relationships, and Fedi). I recognized that other folx did—or at least said they did, but—with my lifelong history of abuse—I didn't see it. I think it took, at least in part, having a healthy, loving, asexual partner for me to start liking myself in new ways. And, as she said after I told her about the dream this morning, "if I'm using you for your body, I'm doing a really bad job of it"
So what was the dream? It was a pretty basic theater anxiety dream.
I was in a play (playing the male lead, I think), and I'd spent the morning doing my costume and makeup for the part. Someone ran by and let me know I was on in 7 minutes. It was then I realized no one had given me a script, and I didn't know anything about my lines or the play. A perfectly reasonable panic attack ensued, and then I woke up.
Now, I don't usually read into dreams; dreams are my brain's equivalent of DOS6 running defrag. But this one was pretty on the nose.
I had spent all my time trying to look the role, and had completely failed to do the part that matters...and now it was too late—I was the pretty one with no substance.
@alice I don't know if this useful or not, but sharing in case it is?
I went through a similar journey and although I don't remember anyone telling me that people only listened because I was attractive, I internalized that same message and scrutinized accomplishments to see if I could figure out if they were from that or not. I'm sorry you've experienced that too. It REALLY sucks.
Now at nearly 50, I am hitting that "plan B" part. People do react differently now that I'm older and in a bigger body. That's sometimes hard. But it's less in areas of accomplishment and more like ... "service people are less 'extra nice' to me" and random people hit on me less? (Which honestly I was never good at noticing.)
FWIW, looking back now, I see a whole host of intersections of my privilege (white, attractive, thin, young, cis, not poor, ...), and ALSO a lot of drag from misogyny that I didn't see when I was in it.
Tl;Dr? Society and competition is a total mindfuck, to be sure.
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@alice I don't know if this useful or not, but sharing in case it is?
I went through a similar journey and although I don't remember anyone telling me that people only listened because I was attractive, I internalized that same message and scrutinized accomplishments to see if I could figure out if they were from that or not. I'm sorry you've experienced that too. It REALLY sucks.
Now at nearly 50, I am hitting that "plan B" part. People do react differently now that I'm older and in a bigger body. That's sometimes hard. But it's less in areas of accomplishment and more like ... "service people are less 'extra nice' to me" and random people hit on me less? (Which honestly I was never good at noticing.)
FWIW, looking back now, I see a whole host of intersections of my privilege (white, attractive, thin, young, cis, not poor, ...), and ALSO a lot of drag from misogyny that I didn't see when I was in it.
Tl;Dr? Society and competition is a total mindfuck, to be sure.
@jonobie I'm so sorry. Likewise, I recognize my privileges, and some of them are nice, but some also come with a lot of baggage and expectations that cause psychic damage.
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@jonobie I'm so sorry. Likewise, I recognize my privileges, and some of them are nice, but some also come with a lot of baggage and expectations that cause psychic damage.
@alice Yes - exactly that. The psychic damage from some of the things people think are "desired" is sadly so hidden and so hard to talk about it. I appreciate you naming it here. There's a really harmful warping effect from all this stuff.
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Vulnerability time again.
So, in the bucket of "semi-innocuous things that can fuck you up for life", I cried this morning after waking from a stupid anxiety dream.
Why? Well strap in...
All my life people have told me I'm attractive (boo-hoo, right?). Which also means, all my life I've had people tell me I'm vain, or shallow, or that I'm using my looks manipulatively. People have also informed me that looks don't last, and that I'd "better have a plan B"¹ for when they inevitably fade.
¹ not that kind of plan B
And, with brains being the lovely little pattern-seeking machines they are, mine condensed this down to "People like/hate you for your looks. If you're not pretty enough, you're worthless; if you're too pretty you're a bad person".
I've written before about my ex-spouse who told me, in a crowded cafe, "people only listen to you because you're fuckable" (this was in response to telling them that two psychologists had favorably reviewed my paper on autism self-diagnostic criteria)
I've also written about how I never really found myself attractive until just recently (thanks therapy, healthy relationships, and Fedi). I recognized that other folx did—or at least said they did, but—with my lifelong history of abuse—I didn't see it. I think it took, at least in part, having a healthy, loving, asexual partner for me to start liking myself in new ways. And, as she said after I told her about the dream this morning, "if I'm using you for your body, I'm doing a really bad job of it"
So what was the dream? It was a pretty basic theater anxiety dream.
I was in a play (playing the male lead, I think), and I'd spent the morning doing my costume and makeup for the part. Someone ran by and let me know I was on in 7 minutes. It was then I realized no one had given me a script, and I didn't know anything about my lines or the play. A perfectly reasonable panic attack ensued, and then I woke up.
Now, I don't usually read into dreams; dreams are my brain's equivalent of DOS6 running defrag. But this one was pretty on the nose.
I had spent all my time trying to look the role, and had completely failed to do the part that matters...and now it was too late—I was the pretty one with no substance.
