Tag: box opener

had a great therapy session today, by which i mean it was very productive because my therapist managed to shock me by pointing out that if something happens that makes me feel uncomfortable/worried/nervous, it might be because the thing is weird, concerning, or bad. i had jumped straight to “it’s because i’m needy, difficult, and inherently flawed, and need to learn to stop having this kind of reaction” [+ infinite echo chamber of self-hate for inability to stop having emotions], apparently without considering the fact that, with some consistency, if i feel like something is unexpected and leaving me wrong-footed and anxious, it turns out to be because the event in question is something that it would be reasonable for a person to be confused or perturbed about, because it’s reflective of something bad happening or something trying to hurt me. this is even including the times when literally no one else in my life was noticing anything acutely concerning about the thing, but it made me feel bad and afraid. i’m not only not manufacturing every emotion due to my hypersensitive, overreactive neediness and inability to function as a useful human being–– i actually react, on a visceral/emotional level, more perceptively than other people i know to at least one [nontrivial] known instance of a problem. 

of course i obviously am not, you know, willing to extend this to the idea that it would be, in the future, okay for me to feel and express things that might make other people’s lives difficult, cause them inconvenience, or require them to accommodate me. just because i was, in the past, correct and probably not having a wildly outside initial reaction to things does not mean i have now earned the right to have a feeling or tell someone about that feeling. just because that “maybe means something is actually wrong” and “it’s good to address and solve problems that are hurting me, so i am no longer in pain”…. etc. 

that is not real, i am not convinced that the unreasonable:justifiable ratio of causes of my emotions is low enough for me to apply a blanket belief instead of a blanket discounting and i still would prefer to never feel anything that caused anyone any problems ever, or indeed to have any negative or difficult impact on anyone’s life. when i was too depressed to believe i could possibly be net-not-harming anyone, i wanted to die so that i could stop impacting people; now, i would prefer to be replaced with an indistinguishable robot copy of myself that only expresses feelings that make other people feel good and affirmed, since apparently some people net benefit from having me around. but that’s not enough–– i could be better–– i could be frictionless–– i could be perfect

jesus fucking christ i don’t understand neuroscience at all

i have to read a paper that’s basically about comparing how monkeys’ neurons fire/are connected when they do a basic matching/pattern-recognition task, versus a neural network trained to do the same thing, and they’re making some kind of conclusion based on–– well, i think they’re arguing that their neural network is a good model for the actual brains, and then based on that saying they can make a bunch of extended other predictions now using their neural network as a “good”/“accurate” model. which, yes, is just how all data-based model-building works. i have no idea what those conclusions are, but uh––they made them, maybe!

see, i can very roughly look at a figure like this 

and say, ok, the top is their biological data, the bottom is the model, and they’re arguing that the outcomes are similar enough that the model is doing a good job and can be studied on its own bc it’s potentially biologically relevant. i don’t know what any of these features mean (the x axis is milliseconds and the y axis is Hz, if you’re curious) or what it would look like for them to be disqualifyingly dissimilar, but sure. those look like they’re doing the same thing, why not.

but then they move into talking about the model on its own and like

apparently these graphs are of the “dynamical landscape” of neural trajectories.

my feeling on this: ‽‽‽‽‽‽‽‽‽‽‽‽‽‽‽‽‽‽‽

i think of myself as being– ok, no, i was going to say “small” or something just to set up the mild experience of surprise but that’s not true. i think of myself as a collection of extended oscillating polygons.

there’s definitely an alternate-universe version of me whose favorite band is the new pornographers, and i think that version of me is ultimately the worse for it in many ways but also probably has a much less repressed reaction to the desire to just post “my rights versus yours” over and over

remembering dreams over and over, remembering dreams and having the same dream again

the dream with the tunnel under the buildings; in this one every time the entrances must be dug out of where they are hidden, in planters and under steps, opened only with the help of others because i don’t have the strength. in this one i eventually connect with two others enough for us to pull ourselves from the maze and save each other, but other people are left behind, and i wake before we reach a point of any real safety.

the dream with the terraces in layers of concrete, making a cliff down to the ocean; in which the only other figure was someone with whom i feel totally open and without fear, and the two of us were open to each other in ways we don’t need or want in real life but which in the dream reflected the ways we actually are at ease together.

the dream with the low open house full of sun with the door that opens to a beach: once, in this dream, i lay on the floor between two beds and the house was full of my friends, and one of them stood over me protectively and then fell on top of me full of bullets. the second time, in this dream, i lay on the floor between two beds and the house was full of my friends, and one of them came and sat beside me and stripped the packaging off my headphones with their teeth for me.

the dream with the clean all-white upholstery and the hotel bed where i hold someone and they tell me, slowly, stumblingly, how much they– and if i could, just for a moment, let them– and if i’d forgive them, if i’d allow them this desire even if i could never– and then i touch their face slowly and carefully, and then woke up in a hotel bed glowing for nearly ten minutes of selective amnesia in which i forget which things i am allowed to want