Cognitive dissonance

I'm reading a book right now called Mistakes Were Made, but Not by Me.  It's a book about self-justification as a result of cognitive dissonance, and it has my mind reeling.  

The basic gist of the book is that people will modify their opinions depending on how much something challenges their view of themselves or how much they have invested in something.In other words, people are loathe to change their minds, but especially when they have invested a great deal in their opinion. 

 There are several classic examples of this:  the woman in love with someone who treats her like shit.  The woman says  "he's not that bad" because they've already spent X number of years believing that the person is not that bad.  The longer they have defended the man, the harder it is to see the reality.   Contrast this to someone from outside of a relationship who clearly sees that the guy is a jerk.  

Or how about the whole weapons of mass destruction thing?  Some people still believe that there are weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, because they predicated going to war with Iraq on WMD.  Seriously. click on the link.

It's kind of freaking me out, because I recognize this in myself.  For example, I haven't been projecting climbs and sending harder grades for a while now.  So I say to myself "I just don't care that much, I'm not motivated, I have to study for my qualifying exam so I don't make my advisor think he wasted three years on me, etc."  These things may all be true: I haven't been motivated and I do have to study.  But the very fact that I'm spending time thinking about it and trying to convince myself indicates to me that I'm self-justifying.  So what came first?  Did I lose motivation and need to study? or did I stop stop climbing hard and then need to make up an excuse for it?

I get annoyed with myself for even worrying about it.  I think part of the problem is that no matter what I do, I feel like I'm not doing enough.  I'm doing well in grad school right now, devoting a lot of energy and brain power to my proposal and qualifying exam, but now I feel guilty for not climbing more.  And of course anyone who knows me as a climber knows that I always feel guilty about not doing enough in grad school.  

I spoke with my friend Tim Doyle the other day and asked him why he never wanted to be a professional climber.  He responded "because I like it the way it is."  

"Because I like it the way it is."  

I can't think of a better response to that question.  I know so many people, including myself, who feel they need to elaborate on why being a pro climber is bad for them and why not being a pro climber is good for them.  Maybe this is because I clearly don't have the talent to be a pro climber, so it's not even an option (which I have to justify...because I like other things, because I don't want to feel obligated, whatever) but regardless, why explain it?  Do I not believe in what I'm doing?

Anyway, this is just food for thought.  I think that studying is making me crazy. I'm starting to use all these big words.  Yikes!  I don't want to appear :::gasp::: elitist!

Beast on Beast: Spider vs. Snake

Check these pictures out:

For enlarged images go here.  For the source I suggest you go here.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!!!

imprinting

It's become somewhat clear to me that I am re-enacting the relationship patterns that I grew up with.  How depressingly cliche is that?  

I just realized today that whenever I disagree with my parents about something, like politics for instance, I've just been "brainwashed by the liberal media".  My sister disagreed with my parents by not eating when she was starving herself.  My Dad dismissed her by saying "she was just born fucked up."  So if you are in disagreement with the F. family, either you're brainwashed (which means that you can still be saved - lucky me!), or you can't be saved cause you were fucked up to begin with, so we all know where to lay the blame.

You can only try to communicate with someone who won't listen or dismisses you for so long until you start self-censoring and just give up.  Adding insult to injury, I just had an experience where I got called out for self-editing.  When I replied that it was because "nothing's going to change", guess what?  I was dismissed and not listened to!!  Imagine that.

I think that if I ever have kids, on the day that they are born I'm going to write them a letter that apologizes for everything that I'm going to do wrong, but that I'm going to do the best that I can.  I know that my faults are only going to be passed down.   

Mushrooms!

I went to Hopland, CA, in Mendocino County, to visit my grandparents and uncles yesterday.  I went up to see my sick Grandfather, my delightful and oh-so-cute Grandmother, and to hunt mushrooms!

My Uncles and I took the Kubota out to all of the patches of madrones to look for coccora (Amanita calyptrata).  Unfortunately, Uncle Jerry and Uncle Alec were spoiled last year by the insane numbers of mushrooms.  This year, it appears that we have to work for our dinner.  

At any rate, as a team we found about 9 coccora, about 5 of which are not rejects.  I dumped the rejects on my back patio...I don't want to put them in the trash because they will probably disintegrate into a smelly, gooey ooze.  

We also found some death caps - Amanita phalloides - which I had never seen before.  I'm 99% sure that the top one is a death cap...I'm not so sure about the mushroom pictured in the second two pics:

Also spotted: milk caps - Lactarius ssp. (I think):

And then I think that this is a fungus attacking a fungus:

So now I'm going to go and meet Dr. Rob and bring over the Coccora that I found.  His wife's parents are in town, who are way into mushrooms.  They're going to look them over, and then Rob and I are going to go to PW and hope that upon our return there is a delicious lunch ready for us.  

Countdown...and down for the count

It appears that I have "popped" a tendon, whatever that means.  Climbing in the gym, felt a pop in my palm, blah blah blah.  I'm not sure how serious it is...just hurts in my palm, and is pretty sore today.  

I remember the first time I had a finger injury.  I was in Bishop at the end of a road trip (well, the finger injury largely brought it to an end) and my boyfriend at the time had just left town and I pretty much knew that it wasn't going to last.  In addition, I had no idea what I was going to do with myself...go to graduate school? Get a job?  Where should I go? What should I do?

At that time, my injury was utterly devastating.  It's kind of funny to think back on it now.  I was so bummed.  Since I was on the road trying to avoid growing up and avoid even thinking about growing up, I obsessed over my injury.  I started taking all these supplements, put ointments on it...you know...snake oil stuff.

At any rate, I went from Bishop to Wyoming for a month where I sat on the sidelines watching my "relationship" (or maybe the idea of my relationship seems more appropriate) crumble.   I was definitely not climbing...didn't know where the hell I was going to go or what I was going to do.  The fact that I couldn't climb made it so much worse.

Fast forward.  Today I'm studying for my qualifying exam.  I'm in my third year of graduate school and just got my first manuscript accepted for publication.  I have a bike, which I enjoy riding if I can't climb, a house, a job, and probably most importantly, a community.  I also have larger medical issues, which puts things in perspective.  Somehow, a tendon injury doesn't seem like that big of a deal.  Yeah.

Everyone wants to be connected

We all want to be connected with someone/something. I think it's the curse of consciousness.  Being conscious means that you understand that you are mortal, understand that you are a separate entity from everything else.  I believe this makes us lonely.  Not to mention that we are compelled societally and biologically to search out a mate, and the fact that humans have extended childcare means that we must feel trust and care from our parents/family/clan.

But in the end we are all alone.  We have people we love, people who love us, but they can never know exactly how I feel, and I can never know what it's like to be them.  All we have is language which is a poor proxy for emotion and, quite frankly, reality.  So we keep on trying.  Searching for the relationships and moments that make us feel loved, understood, listened to.  

I've been keeping a look out lately to see what sorts of methods people use to reach out or feel connected with other people.  Some people use guilt, some use sex, some use subcultures, some use substances like pot or alcohol (well, maybe that one is for dulling the ache of loneliness, boredom, ennui, alienation, etc).

Thoughts?

More good people

Party at my house tonight.  My housemate's friends are here to celebrate a successful harvest and good times are being had by all.  Fondue, plenty of alcohol (blood orange mimosas followed by New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc).  Laughter, stories, people.

I just have to say: I love being a California yuppie.  We know how to enjoy nice things and enjoy a little bit of sensory pleasure.  I think I'm starting to enjoy this spending-weekends-at-home thing.  It ain't so bad.