The Proud Disconnect

I have long noted that I do not seem to have the same “stars in my eyes” that others might do about fame, kudos and positions of sociopolitical power. Because I have not shown the deference deemed owed by some, I have put noses out of joint and have experienced payback. I am unskilled in the art of sycophancy and brown nosing. Luckily my lack of said interpersonal skill is not tested these days. I can see that there is often a social-disconnect in which people are expecting some kind of different behaviour from me. I do not play the mutual itchy-back game well. As a young man and researcher I was academically precocious and unfiltered towards my “older and betters”. It was not a friend winner nor was it politically astute. To this day I am unlikely to doff my cap correctly were such behaviour deemed warranted. I don’t seek kudos nor do I deem it important. It is impermanent and thereby illusory.

I have always had the notion that I am a little alien to this planet. Others differ in outlook, I think.

My first celeb crush was on Delenn…

The biggest disconnect which I seem to have with society at large comes with this weird word “proud”.

Contestants on Masterchef Australia want to make their family proud and are proud of their creations. Coaches are proud of what their teams do in Rugby and Soccer. Parents are proud of their offspring and their achievements. People are proud if little Johhny gets into Oxford or Marie-Claire the Sorbonne. People can be proud they went to a Cambridge College or to Imperial. They can be proud that they finished a marathon or that they quit crack cocaine. They can be proud that they helped an old lady cross the road. People on SAS Celebrities can be proud of the effort they put in. Everybody wants to be proud of something, its seems. A lot of gay people are proud and have pride.

I just don’t get it…it is not a word that I would use.

In the past I got a degree and a Ph.D. Going into the viva for the latter, I was very well prepared. My thesis was a good journeyman effort with published results. Nothing earth shattering. My assessment was that I would pass. This proved true. It was as I had assessed. No biggie. Job done, next thing. I wasn’t proud of it. Though to keep the peace I had to sit for hours in the Royal Albert Hall for the purposes of ritual magic. I was not proud, my realtives might have been. I thought the Ph.D. simply consistent with effort. I did not believe I deserved it. I believed I had satisfied the criteria. It was normal.

One of the things I have is the question, “is it possible”. This question when answered in either sense is usually enough for me. I asked myself recently, “is it possible to get a quantum optics patent granted without the use of a patent attorney and having done no university level science for well over a decade?” The answer was yes. My curiosity is satisfied. I am not bothered about winning.

Were I to go on Masterchef {UK if they allow men of my age and size } I would probably prepare very meticulously. The question would be, “could I make some food that experts thought was tidy?” If the answer was yes, I would probably lose interest. To take it to conclusion and make myself “proud” would not occur.

I do not recall anyone other than my nan saying she was proud of me. If you say it over and over, proud is such a weird word.

I have in general been happy. If I have done my impeccable best at anything that is enough irrespective of level of success measured or otherwise. Why would anyone be proud about putting a good effort in? It makes no sense to me. Isn’t a good effort the default?  

I have not got a trophy cabinet…I don’t need affirmation.

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As a little exercise listen carefully and note how many times the word proud is said in your earshot over the next few weeks or so…

Will you be proud of how many time you note the use of the word proud?

How long before you give up?

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Taking Stock – Massive Disconnect

It is one of those things. If two people are interacting and one thinks they are miscommunicating and the other does not, who is accurate? Many assume that they are communicating better than they actually are. People can be oblivious when miscommunication occurs.

The observable evidence of the “we are above the law” thinking from the USA has just been drilled deep into concrete bunkers in Iran.

“We don’t like the bastards, we can kill their asses as and when. Deals, treaties, international law are only pieces of paper after all!! We have the God given right!! {And the B2 bombers}.”

So now it is overt {again}. It is unclear as to how things go from here. Maybe the global least harm is a petering out.

I am not filled with joy at the prospects of peace and goodwill for all.

I have been noting of late a complete disconnect between how I am and think and, others. Today the orthopaedic surgeon suggested I look at what I might want to do and to use this as a guide as to the when of facing the knife. In my mind I simply adjust to that which I am able to do. I do not get upset and frustrated if I cannot jog round the block or walk 10km. The suggestion washed over me. Why would I even bother to think like that?

This disconnect is even more obvious when watching 24 hours in A&E on the TV. I hear people talking to camera saying that they could not survive without so and so, expressing their catastrophising on hearing that their loved on has gone to A&E, thinking the worst.

Why not simply make your way there and find out what the best guess scenario is from the doctor? What benefit is there in catastrophising?

Clearly, I am weird by comparison.

One could argue that I am indulging in medicine, with all these scans, check-ups and blood tests. I don’t think that any of them are urgent or life critical. I have already accepted that I have pre-cancerous prostate cancer. It seems to me a matter of when not if. The PSA value is going up…

I am due an arse-cancer chimney sweep soon. After that there is a five year holiday for “good behaviour”. It is probably worth getting that done.

Way back in the nineties when they were investigating my polycythaemia, I was a regular visitor to the phlebotomy centre. It being St Thomas’ there were a few Jamaican nurses, some of whom were a good laugh.  I would get bled. They would check my haemoglobin on a regular basis. If my addled memory is correct the results of phlebotomy were to enhance my haemoglobin count over a few months. We ended up dropping it, the bleeding, I was asymptomatic and perhaps the medical student had finished their research project.

In terms of all the tests none of them will change the reality, they may alter the apparent awareness of reality. That is about it. Maybe it is simplest just to drop them all, to let things be. If I don’t drive it, it will fizzle out.

We come back to the whole pain question. I have no idea how others experience pain, nor whether or not I have a high pain threshold. I suspect that I am not at the overly sensitive end.

I can tolerate things without moaning. I am not overly prone to whinging. We could park the idea of hip surgery and revisit it in a years’ time.

Maybe I just need to wait and see what transpires…

It is a very strange disconnect when people imagine some kind of ambition or want. They transfer it on to me. They think I am somehow like them. They expect this. It is impossible to explain how I feel to others, nor begin to convey the difference in wiring, orientation and motivation.

It comes back to this feeling. I make people uncomfortable by interacting therefore it is perhaps better that I do not. I observe this discomfort. I don’t have to inflict myself.

Hmnn…