Solipsism II
If I die by plummeting out of the sky it at least won't be for another month or longer. Such tends to be my outlook after returning home safely from a (plane) trip abroad, with the time until my next planned plane trip substituted as necessary. Villahermosa is so named for good reason.
When seated on the plane and visualizing the unthinkable (which of course is entirely thinkable and consists of the plane violently losing lift whilst at maximum altitude and therefore maximizing the time-length of my shit-losing terror during plummet, which of course is the part of the imagining I find most distressing), I always imagine that all of my fellow passengers' shit-losing terror is accompanied by high-volume shrieking while I alone panic silently. It occured to me on the plane today to wonder why that is.
I often think that I am more hyper-aware of my inner reflective state than the average person. For example, I can't help but narrate my thoughts to myself in complete sentences most of the time. I try to make sure, from time to time, that I do not silently mouth these sentences out. I picture other people tooling about their days thinking only abstractly; their brain function rides along with them in real time with no need for literal inner monologue. This habit of mine, I believe, is part of the reason I read so slowly. Not just that I have to sound out in my head each word as I read it, but that when interrupting thoughts arise I have to manically entertain them, word for word, before I can let them go and resume dictating to myself what the book in question is trying to relate to me. Consequently, I believe that others' brain-body divisions are fuzzier than mine, and that their brain-dictated actions are more directly in tune with their immediate causal stimuli; their actions require less in the way of reflection. I am also, ask J. or H., or the good folks at Bellavision Eyewear, an awful decision maker (from a time/decision efficiency standpoint, anyway). I think I imagine that other people would do what comes naturally (i.e., scream like hell) in a plummeting aircraft, while I would sit there thinking holy shit this is so horrifyingly like how I imagined it would be all those times. And that I would be experiencing the torment of plummeting death on a deeper, more cerebral and hence exponentially more terrifying level than my neighbors' gut-level reactions could involve.
I worry that what I claim, in a value-neutral sort of way, is a sharper brain-body distinction than most, will be interpreted by the reader as vanity; that the reader will feel that I feel superior to my fellow passengers (and those around me as a whole) in that I think more than others. At one level I vehemently disagree; I find serious fault with the commonly-uttered Nietzschean (I think, though that may be unfair) belief that everyone is stupid but a select few, which group typically includes the utterer. But at another level, when the plane lands, and stops at the gate and the seat belt lights dim, and the woman behind me and across the aisle not only immediately rises (stupidly enough by itself, twenty rows back from the exit door on a nearly full flight) but also proceeds towards the front as far as she can make it before she is stopped by other exiting passengers, which distance is precisely two rows, so that she stands there for a full ten minutes, her impatient, self-serving splendor on display directly in front of me and the other people she has thoughtlessly cut in front of (whole level-leaps stupider), it does suggest that at least one of my neighbors could use some deeper reflection time, at least with respect to prioritizing actions in social contexts.
And don't even get me started on spatial arrangement of selfish people waiting at the baggage-claim carousel (i.e., What's Wrong With The World).
When seated on the plane and visualizing the unthinkable (which of course is entirely thinkable and consists of the plane violently losing lift whilst at maximum altitude and therefore maximizing the time-length of my shit-losing terror during plummet, which of course is the part of the imagining I find most distressing), I always imagine that all of my fellow passengers' shit-losing terror is accompanied by high-volume shrieking while I alone panic silently. It occured to me on the plane today to wonder why that is.
I often think that I am more hyper-aware of my inner reflective state than the average person. For example, I can't help but narrate my thoughts to myself in complete sentences most of the time. I try to make sure, from time to time, that I do not silently mouth these sentences out. I picture other people tooling about their days thinking only abstractly; their brain function rides along with them in real time with no need for literal inner monologue. This habit of mine, I believe, is part of the reason I read so slowly. Not just that I have to sound out in my head each word as I read it, but that when interrupting thoughts arise I have to manically entertain them, word for word, before I can let them go and resume dictating to myself what the book in question is trying to relate to me. Consequently, I believe that others' brain-body divisions are fuzzier than mine, and that their brain-dictated actions are more directly in tune with their immediate causal stimuli; their actions require less in the way of reflection. I am also, ask J. or H., or the good folks at Bellavision Eyewear, an awful decision maker (from a time/decision efficiency standpoint, anyway). I think I imagine that other people would do what comes naturally (i.e., scream like hell) in a plummeting aircraft, while I would sit there thinking holy shit this is so horrifyingly like how I imagined it would be all those times. And that I would be experiencing the torment of plummeting death on a deeper, more cerebral and hence exponentially more terrifying level than my neighbors' gut-level reactions could involve.
I worry that what I claim, in a value-neutral sort of way, is a sharper brain-body distinction than most, will be interpreted by the reader as vanity; that the reader will feel that I feel superior to my fellow passengers (and those around me as a whole) in that I think more than others. At one level I vehemently disagree; I find serious fault with the commonly-uttered Nietzschean (I think, though that may be unfair) belief that everyone is stupid but a select few, which group typically includes the utterer. But at another level, when the plane lands, and stops at the gate and the seat belt lights dim, and the woman behind me and across the aisle not only immediately rises (stupidly enough by itself, twenty rows back from the exit door on a nearly full flight) but also proceeds towards the front as far as she can make it before she is stopped by other exiting passengers, which distance is precisely two rows, so that she stands there for a full ten minutes, her impatient, self-serving splendor on display directly in front of me and the other people she has thoughtlessly cut in front of (whole level-leaps stupider), it does suggest that at least one of my neighbors could use some deeper reflection time, at least with respect to prioritizing actions in social contexts.
And don't even get me started on spatial arrangement of selfish people waiting at the baggage-claim carousel (i.e., What's Wrong With The World).
posted by john at
6:10 PM
2 Comments:
I just realized that my greatest fear is that even accepting death might not be the end of life/existence/consciousness. Included in this fear bundle is the worry about "Just because the body isn't reacting, does that mean I can't see/hear/feel?" I've seen a chicken with its head cut off, it looks like that motherfucker still hurts.
A couple things come to mind, both attempting to validate what you claim. Part of my motive here is that I see myself much in the same way (though lacking apprehension regarding flying, this specific case is not especially applicable to me).
One thought is that you nor I could never be a professional athlete. I understand there are many reasons for this, but the one that this reminds me of is opposite of the reason that Tracy Austin can be one.
Another thought takes me back to the movie "Adaptation". The main character is introspective to the point of what one might call neurotic. His ending thought monologue after he has just achieved something great is the epitome: "when they make this into a movie I hope the guy who plays me isn't too much of a fat ass". I imagine his character not being especially animated if he was in a doomed airplane.
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home