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After seeing the neurologist yesterday I've finally determined for certain what's going on. It's an obsession with my own intellect gone into a death spiral. Basically, as soon as I started worrying that I was cognitively declining, the worry fed the stress and distraction and became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Now my entire reality is a reminder of my own self-induced pathology. The solution of course is to do things that take my mind off, well, my MIND, and that's incredibly difficult, but it's the only way. I have a report on Homer to do this weekend, and it's partly done. I need to accomplish something to restore some degree of confidence and fight back to where I used to be.

I have to say, I think Freud would have a field day with this.

The "intellect" isn't really an object, but we traditionally represent it to ourselves as such ("I need to hone/polish my intellect"; "my intellect is cunning"; "he wields such an impressive/massive intellect"). The analogue between the intellect and the phallus is pretty obvious in such cases (or, if you don't buy the psycho-sexual approach, the intellect is often boasted as some object of impress). Regardless, the point is that the abstraction of the intellect is reified in the form of an actual object that you take out of your wallet when you come home in the evening and tuck safely away in your lock-box.

If you do buy the Freudian approach, I'd say that Zeph is suffering from a case of the ol' "fear of castration."

The comment about a "death spiral" is also interesting. In one case, you're obsessed with preserving an anterior state (i.e. the prowess of your intellect); in another case, you're obsessed with progress and development (i.e. of your intellect). In one case, you're dealing with regression: you want to attain the state in which you once were, some previous, apparently "better" state; in another, your intellect is what gives you to posterity. Like germ cells, it's what you have to offer to the next generation.

Time opposes these two obsessions, these two "drives." I'm only just spit-balling by the way, not trying to say anything definitive. However, I do think that while we tend to objectify and cathect onto things like "the intellect", resisting this tendency can have some positive effects. For instance, the intellect not as an object but simply as the energetic receiving of information and apperceptions, and transmitting of new formulations or representations, might reappropriate "the intellect" not as something total and whole, something consistently achieving a new sum of its parts, but as an amorphous and malleable energy. We can't always recall everything we've learned, this is simply one of the flaws of consciousness. My bookshelf is loaded with texts I've read and can barely summarize in a cogent manner; but I can recall which texts deal with what topics, and roughly in what way, and can generally call upon them to cite them if need be, aiding me in the formulation of my own (hopefully unique) argument.

Forgetting is part of what it means to be a human subject. I don't concern myself when I find my "mind" or "intellect" not providing me with the stimulation it typically does, or that I desire. The "I" is not a resevoir that collects and preserves what falls into it, but is more of a filter through which various stimuli and data pass. We can't retain all of this, or even what we choose/wish to. Our positions and perspectives are constantly changing, even if we strive (sometimes irrationally) to preserve them.
 
I think the best analogy is this one: the hard drive is fine. It's the RAM that has gotten morbidly low. Another way to put it is my mind is stuck in 1st or 2nd gear and it can't shift to 4th and 5th. I realize that the nature of mind, like all reality, is in a state of flux and evolution, and know full well that if I come out of this I will be a different person than what I am now and what I was before. I embrace that. The frustration is that I can't process a book I'm reading or a show I'm watching with nearly the same depth and breadth that I did before.

Yes, it could be the allure of Platonism that leads me to reify, if not divinize Intellect as a static, creative, demiurgic force.

But your Freudian analysis is compelling, though in a way you may not have intended. I have always been primarily sexually driven and thought of my intellectual life as a counterbalance to my private lusts. Now it feels like I've lost both parts of my life and now there's nothing left. They had always influenced one another and now I don't know what to think because thinking is incredibly hard.

Though there's hope. I grasped most of the gobbledeegook you just vomited onto the page and am responding to it coherently (though due to my obsession, it's natural that I can speak at length about this). Then again, I just went for a grueling run and my mind always works best when the post-workout endorphins are pumping.
 
As an aspiring Psychiatrist/Psychologist, one whose only Psych teacher thus far was an avid Freudian, I think Freud was mostly garbage.

Stress is generally the natural response to the divide between expectations and reality, the more unrealistic and rigid the expectations the worse the stress. Stress leads to all sorts of problems, and the "Death spiral" of worry feeding more stress is not uncommon, as the worry focuses on the divide and not on aligning expectations with reality.

I don't think it has much to do with the phallus except in a tangential relation, as our sexual worth is most often tied up with our general self worth, particularly where ever we happen to perceive our strengths. An athlete would be less sexually confident upon failing an athletic test, the academic upon failing an exam.
 
I was waiting for you to reply. :cool:

A big part of Freud's ideas has to do with language and word play (which is why he loved jokes), and I think a large part of the tie-in between his theory and sexuality has to do with how we commonly talk about things. For instance, the quotes I made above in reference to the intellect could also be used, almost word for word, for the phallus. I would say that the connection becomes real as soon as the subject realizes the analogue between phrasings.
 
And houses are built because nails fuck wood. In the previous post I gave examples of athletes and academics. Another analogy would be someone whose self worth was tied directly to his/her sexual prowess. Failure to perform up to his/her expectations in bed would render a similar crisis to Zephs (academic). Freud focused on the phallus as a sexually minded person over academic or athletic, even if his prowess was not of personal concern. There are even different sorts of prowess within those respects. Equate that to "subgenre".
 
Note to self: Do not ever get high and log in to old Myspace account and read my ex-girlfriend's abandoned account because it's littered with all kinds of happy lovey-dovey things about me and us back when shit was good while listening to Against the Wind by Bob Seger ever again.

example:
I love Rick because he always comes through for me. I love that he can't stand to see me upset (whether it's his fault or not). I love that he puts up with me and my persistent pessimism. I love that he remembers to tell me I'm beautiful when I'm not dressed up or wearing makeup. I love that he takes care of me when I'm so sick I can't move. I love that he's a bit helpless without me. I love that he'll rub my back when I can't fall asleep. Most of all, I love that he loves me.

god where's my gun...
 
Well, if you think having nice teeth is a class indicator it would make sense that you don't understand why people in America want nice teeth. Having nice teeth here isn't an indicator of anything other than you actually taking care of your body.

What? Orthodontics, veneers, bleaching etc is all considered "cosmetic" and only rich/well-off people can afford it. Having toothpaste-commercial teeth is absolutely a class indicator in most cases.
 
Note to self: Do not ever get high and log in to old Myspace account and read my ex-girlfriend's abandoned account because it's littered with all kinds of happy lovey-dovey things about me and us back when shit was good while listening to Against the Wind by Bob Seger ever again.

example:


god where's my gun...



Seriously tho, that last sentenced scared the shit out of me. The "I love you because you love me" Red Flag!
 
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