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This is a conflict between two parts of myself that I recently looked at from a different perspective.
I'll call the first mind "Lineon" and the second one "Mudd."
Lineon: I wish to find a job. I'm going to go through job listings, bus routes, and find out what I can reach that's within walking distance, and sort/compile all of that information into a list of jobs I can apply for. I will then organize that list first in order of travel difficulty, and second in order of projected likelihood of employment. *starts to look through job listings*
Mudd: Oh my! I'm so nervous. All of that travel stuff looks dreadfully complicated... what if I screw it up and something bad happens? How am I going to deal with the mess of working around my mother's schedule and convincing her to go along with this? Oh, and they all want experience or some ridiculous amount of education. I'm doomed! This is complicated and making me uncomfortable, so I'm going to think about something else.
Lineon: You're being ridiculous. You're not going to screw it up, the situation is very simple and impossible to screw up if you're paying attention. I already understand it. You're bound to get a job eventually if you keep pushing, and you know your mother will cave if you press. We've done Algebra and configured Linux before, this is nothing compared to that. Stop freaking out.
Mudd: But I've never done it before! And what if I get distracted or something? And it's going to take so long and stress me out. On top of that, it will stress my mother out, and I don't like that. Algebra and Linux didn't have such big consequences riding on them, I felt free to mess around with those.
Lineon: Can you hear yourself? Don't you realize that there was a first time you did everything? You're going to pay that much more attention and not get distracted precisely because it's your first time. And please... do you honestly believe that the value of consequences changes the nature of the situation? It doesn't, it's only changing your perspective.
Mudd: I'm still scared, though. And the value of consequences might not change anything for you, but I'm actually bothered by the thought of being uncomfortable. I might have to be uncomfortable for a long time before I see any benefit from doing this.
Lineon: But you're going to be so much more comfortable later on. And no one is going to let anything bad happen to you. You're not in the middle of the wilderness, you're in a functional, civilized society. You're perfectly safe.
Mudd: I'm only going to be more comfortable if it works out like you plan. Otherwise I'm screwing everything up for nothing. And don't you dare lie to me. I've seen what happens to people on the news and in movies. You're going to tell me I can trust people I don't even know? There are whole organizations that are probably out to get us!
Lineon: It will work if you try hard enough, and long enough. And you're surrounded by human beings. The news prints the worst stories, and movies are mere entertainment and dramatization. You know that you're a human being, and you have shown compassion, so why don't you expect it in return?
Mudd: You don't understand me at all. I can't just rely on what you're saying. I haven't seen any reasons to do things differently than I'm doing them now, or to think differently than I do now. I'm not going to rely on your invisible assumptions. You could be both wrong and insane for all I know. I haven't got any thing to weigh what you're saying against. Just leave me alone.
Lineon: Fine. I can't seem to get through to you anyway, so I suppose I'll have to try something else.
Mudd: That's good, I'll be right over here if you need me, taking a nap. *goes to sleep*
Lineon: *sigh* I wish I had someone else to help me. Mudd is useless, and I can't do this on my own.
Why does it tend to seem like I'm stuck dragging Mudd around, and am frustrated in my efforts because I can't simply become Lineon and act as they would?
Next, here's an essay I once wrote a long time ago:
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I prepared to take my first step through the unfamiliar glass paneled steel doors, and found them so heavy, that necessity dictated I use both hands and my back to push them open. Once inside, I tightened all nerves, and steeled for another year of school. The environment itself seemed an ordeal, with all of the raucous laughter, erratic movements, and general chaos abound. This occurred on the first day of eleventh grade. Looking down at my schedule, which I clutched tightly, as if my very life depended on that letter-sized printout, I read the word “Chemistry”, and immediately began searching for the class.
That the hall layout accorded with predictable alphabetic and numeric sequences was comforting to me, as navigating previous schools had been a nightmare. While seeking the class, the teacher’s name registered in my mind as a terrible omen. What sort of person is named Killen? As I walked through the halls to reach the class, I gazed at the patterns of tiles on the walls, which seemed reminiscent of Conway’s game of life.
I apprehensively approached the class door, and entered. The room felt sterile, and the air seemed thin. I customarily take a seat nearer the teacher, but an instinct told me to sit near the door, away from him. After taking a seat, I became aware of tension in the air, and of an emotional distaste for this room. Nevertheless, I waited patiently for the bell to ring. When class began, the teacher suddenly began yelling in an unnervingly hostile tone.
Taken aback, and intimidated by his attitude, I shed a few tears silently, and prayed that no one noticed. He decided that, after he felt he had the entire class on the brink of vomiting in fear and disgust, he should pass out an Algebra test, and begin a ten minute time limit before everyone had even received a copy. Normally, I would have done well, but this man had me so emotionally distraught, I had been rendered incapable of answering a single question correctly. After collecting the tests, the teacher looked at my test, and began to mock me, and encouraged the other students to mimic his tasteless behavior.
I felt so frightened, embarrassed, and angry, that it took every bit of fortitude and self-restraint I possessed, to avoid running out of the classroom, crying like a child. I decided, then and there, that I urgently needed to request schedule modifications before leaving school that day. As first period ended, I proceeded to my next class with caution, where I met a friendly teacher, who made me feel at ease, in sharp contrast to that awful Chemistry instructor. In fact, every other teacher met that day seemed quite amiable, and by the end of the day, I felt much better about the school, and myself.
After the day ended, I returned to A Hall, a corridor with white paneling, several wooden doors, and black and red stripes across the top, to find the councilor’s office. I felt relieved upon meeting her, because she had a very kind face, and a sweet disposition. When I explained my dilemma with Killen, and how I couldn’t handle the class, she was completely sympathetic, and scheduled me for Aquatic Science the next day. I thanked her, and walked out of the building into the afternoon sun.
Finally, here are 4 images I've used as avatars in the past: