Some thoughts on evolution

I am going to firstly warn whoever that is reading this, that this post will be messy, as in really disorganized. I am anal about organizing my arguments in written communication, but I fear that that’s not going to happen today. So here it goes.

Often times, I find myself looking at the world around me as Darwin did when he first stepped off of HMS Beagle into the new world. The theory of evolution has always fascinated me, and sometimes I like to apply it to social situations to understand some implications.

One of the biggest clichés used in the world of evolution is the phrase “Survival of the fittest”. I feel this is very much of a generalization, or rather that the word “fit” needs to be defined better for a clearer understanding of the concept.

Let’s consider some concepts in the survival of a species. We know that in species that propagate through sexual reproduction, each organism is unique (unless it has an identical twin/triplet etc). This is ensured by the combination of the genetic material of the parent organisms in a unique manner. When it comes to mate selection, each individual organism try to find certain desirable qualities in the mate that would ensure their genes to be passed on to the next generation. In humans, this process is very, very complex indeed, because so many different things come into play. Depending on cultures, environments and mindsets, the desirable qualities in a mate may differ significantly, but generally we look for signs of health and wellness in our mates. In the human world though, one does not necessarily need a mate any longer to ensure that their genes are passed on to the next generation. I mean, you can donate eggs/semen or receive such donations to have a child. Sure, that technology might not be affordable or accessible to everyone, but in theory it exists.

When I think about evolution and such, I often try to see where I fit in the grand scheme of things, and I am usually very happy with where I am. Let’s see, I am taller than both of my parents, I have an IQ of 134, I am not much of an athlete but I have a naturally athletic build and symmetrical features, I can speak 4 languages, am good at both traditionally masculine and feminine skills (I can cook and clean but also very proficient with power tools ). However, there is another part of me, that says I am in fact quite low in the evolutionary scale. If in-vitro fertilization technology did not exist, I would not be here today. I mean, I am no designer baby, but thinking about it, I am not “natural”. Don’t get the idea that I am being all self-deprecating, because when I think I think very objectively and in an emotionally detached way. It’s just interesting to consider, how much of a paradox I am.

Despite that interesting list of evolutionary awesomeness that I just claimed in the last paragraph, I find myself still single. There is nothing sad about it, but it’s just a thing that I find intellectual stimulating. It’s a little weird that I see my own self as a subject of study, but how much of an anomaly I am continues to fascinate me. And I think “Hey, it’s not my fault I am single, nobody is good enough for me”. Haha.

I should finish my ice-cream now, it’s melting.

My apparent lack of empathy and its role in my singlehood

It has been recently pointed out to me that I am apparently somewhat of an emotional cripple. While I somewhat agree with this, I feel that many people don’t understand why I come off as coldly logical most of the time.

I have mentioned before that I sometimes have a hard time relating to most girls. I do see where they are coming from, but I fail to appreciate their reasoning, simply because I feel it is no reasoning at all. When I try to understand my emotions rationally, I am accused of compartmentalizing them and such. Even my parents think I am cold and distant emotionally.

I guess I have quite a different approach to emotional information than most people do, and I also think that because of my gender, people have a certain bias against me. It’s mostly okay for men to be the “strong silent” type, but that archetype does not exist for women. Women are the ones that build homes and communities and express themselves well. While I’d like to think I do the latter pretty darn well, there are many who think that my views are detached and needs more of a human touch. I have been a recreational and competitor debater most of my teenage years, and for my own clarity, I feel it is necessary to look at issues as they are before attaching my biases to them. And here are women accused of being irrational and emotional (I’d have to agree to a large extent), but when people see one that relies so purely on logic, they apparently are unable to accept it.

I have always been a sucker for logic, and knowledge in general. Clichéd emotional romantic comedies don’t do anything for me. I’m a huge fan of dark comedies, and psychedelic movies. That is not to say though that I readily dismiss romance. When it appeals to me, I can be indeed quite overwhelmed. There is this one stanza in Bob Dylan’s song “Tombstone blues”. If anyone is to ever say it/sing it to me, I would melt immediately.

Now I wish I could write you a melody so plain
That could hold you dear lady from going insane
That could ease you and cool you and cease the pain
Of your useless and pointless knowledge

What I absolutely adore about this, is the fact that it applies to me so well. It’s not your usual declaration of romance, it doesn’t even have to be. I like that ambiguous quality about it.

All of this talk of how I need to be more expressive and stuff leads me to think about my rejoiced singlehood. It’s true, I do love being single. There are those times however, when I wish I had someone special with me, someone who understands what I’m talking about and can appreciate my perspective. After much thinking, I came to understand why I couldn’t bother to ask out blonde boy. I enjoyed the make-out session, but I don’t think it would have gone anywhere. I am definitely not the one for just casual dating without the intent for relationships. I had a summer fling once, and that should have been enough to tell me that I shouldn’t just randomly make out with people. Anyway, I learned my lesson. I need a relationship, but I am still not yearning for one. I think I am quite immature still. Most of my friends have been single all their lives and there is definitely no peer pressure to get into a relationship. But like I have mentioned before, I think I am losing the ability to truly care and love someone. It’s a sad thought. I just want to be proven wrong in this regard. Perhaps that’s why a part of me wants a real relationship and no more of this fling-like things, so I could learn again how to love and care. I’m such a fool. Anywho.

When I think about why I haven’t had real relationships, I feel it might be because of my so-called lack of empathy. Men like to be the logical ones while women are like the shoulders to cry on, the emotional support etc. I definitely don’t like being the shoulder to cry on, so I guess I have to look for a guy who does. Genuinely sensitive guys are rare I think. But I don’t want those guys from chick flicks with a tough exterior and sweet gentle heart. I like men that have a good balance of intellect and affection, not overly sensitive or stoic. That is even rarer than sensitive guys. To be honest though, sensitive guys are such mushy turn offs. It might be obvious by now but I have to say it anyway. I fucking hate chick flicks. That again is one thing that could be interpreted both as my inability to relate to the emotional content of chick flicks or just not being able to put up with the cinematographic clichés contained in them.

On a different note, when I go back and read my older posts, it’s weird because I seem so full of contradictions. I am obviously affected by the mood I am in but I didn’t realize that could sometimes be so apparent in my writing.

Random musings

The graph for my blog stats is starting to look like an ionization energy curve.

That’s what my initial reaction was when I saw it. I am not sure maybe it fits another type of progression better. I will look into it later.

For those of you that are still not aware of the glories of xkcd (www.xkcd.com), check it out immediately. It’s the most intellectually stimulating, romantic and original thing I have encountered in recent times. I am even going to go as far as saying it speaks for me.

Today was my last day at work. I took the streetcar home. I enjoy watching the stillness of the night. Nothing calms me down and makes me feel one with the universe like lights in the night, whether it be with myself or with others. I feel my senses stronger than ever. The cool breeze from the direction of the poison-contaminated lake, the mild hint of the day’s smog, everything makes me feel like the very elixir of life is flowing through my veins. I am a big fan of Jack Kerouac, and in these times, I feel like I am friggin Sal Paradise.

I have been thinking about evolution a lot lately, mostly in the human and social sense, and in terms of the fate of singlehood. I have made some interesting observations/theories, which shall addressed in a post, probably tomorrow morning.

My second year of university starts in about a week, after I move back into residence. I feel so excited and happy.

Lastly, I feel this weird sense of hope, I am not exactly sure for what.

And another thing, it feels so good to give (and I don’t mean to the poor or needy, or the gift of blood or anything like that).

Interaction with fellow females, and my ideals of femininity

As a child, I didn’t have clear ideas about how exactly boys and girls are different (other than how they are different physically). I refused to accept the notion that there are different types of activities that males and females are somewhat expected to perform, and I did whatever I pleased regardless of gender norms. This might not sound like much of a big deal, but it has affected the way I think and act to this day.

I was kind of a tomboy. I didn’t like wearing dresses, or any sort of feminine clothing, I hated the colour pink (I still do) and was more interested in running around outdoors climbing trees and getting dirty than playing with Barbie dolls. I did enjoy some games of a domestic nature, but only in rare occasions.

As I was growing up, it was difficult for me to relate to girls. It still is. I am used to having a lot of guy friends and just being “one of the guys”. In the last few years, I have finally gained my share of female friends. I have one particular female friend, let’s call her Lucy, who is very similar to me in the ways of being a tomboy, and certain philosophies in life, but quite different in our ideals of femininity, and doesn’t approve of my adventurous nature (which often calls for breaking a few rules).

For whatever reason, females of all sorts like to confide things in me. I pride myself in being an okay listener and keeper of secrets, but sometimes I find myself extremely frustrated with fellow females, and their overly emotional way of thinking. Everyone knows that mentally men and women are wired a bit differently. I try my best to be empathetic to feminine concerns which I don’t share, and even try to see the reason in something I deem to be completely illogical, but most of the time, I find that my thinking is completely different from the usual female thinking.

My sense of feminine style is very fluid in nature. Some days, I enjoy being a complete slob. On other days, I like to wear nice dress shirts or things with a little cleavage. Whenever I try to be fluid with my style though, people are a little freaked out. It amuses me much because most are not able to understand the diversity in my nature. Lucy, in particular, objects whenever I dress feminine. It saddens me sometimes because she is such a close friend but most of the time, it’s just really fun teasing her.

Most young girls have “idols” so to speak, who they like to emulate in certain ways. I grew up without one, unless you count Marie Curie or Anne Frank as such. But in terms of style, I never followed anyone. In the last few years however, I have come to appreciate the ideals of femininity of other women, who are not necessarily like me at all. These include Grace Slick (from Jefferson Airplane), Patti Smith and Bjork. I have been a fan of what is often termed as “counterculture” in the ’60s and the ’70s. I really wish I was around in that time. I am a huge fan of original punk and in a lot of ways, the philosophy affects the way I live and think. Grace Slick is such a pretty and smart woman and is completely feminine. I can relate to Patti Smith well because of that part of me that thrives on the fluidity of gender roles. Bjork, is just delightfully novel and weird, and I really like her music.

My ideals of femininity however, are greater than the sum of these people and what they represent. I am still growing up and I am not sure I have reached the goal in terms of being the person I ultimately want to be. But it helps looking at other women, and seeing what they are like. I have come a long way from being just a tomboy, but I don’t plan on being completely effeminate ever. I’d hate to turn into one of those female emotional wrecks who can’t think straight that come to me for advise (What do I look like? A great wise old woman?).

That’s all for today. My thoughts have been weirdly muddled up while blogging so once again excuse the lack of cohesion.

I shall leave you with some stuff that is currently inspiring my femininity:

Yay for readers! and other stuff

Firstly, I would like to express my utmost joy in receiving comments and being added to the blogroll of others. I know I may be seen as a bit of a dork to be so happy about that, but I’ve never blogged before, so getting readers over the internet is paramount to like making contact with extraterrestrials, not that I think my lovely readers are extraterrestrials . I would like to add some few blogs to my blogroll, but somehow I am unable to because they are from Blogger.com. If anyone can tell me how to do that, I would really appreciate it.

Please excuse the the tone of the last post. I say that because I didn’t write it just now, and when I wrote I was probably in a weird mood that made me sound like such a stereotypical teenage girl. If there is one thing I like to do in my life, it is to avoid clichés as much as I can, and do and say things that are original of me. Sometimes, I do and say things that are very much expected of people my age, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with it. What happened with blonde boy was something like that. I think it has helped me develop as a person, even though it wasn’t necessarily a good thing, or a bad thing for that matter. I just want to say that I am not like most girls my age, and that I care and know about more things than my horniness.

Now, I know I have been ending my posts sort of abruptly, and sometimes there is no cohesion in thought throughout an entire post. I am pretty sure I have adult ADD, so that could be reason for it. I’m gonna try to make my posts more structured and organized, like in my essays for English and Philosophy, except much more informally. In the next post, I shall address my personal ideals of femininity.

Hormones, god damn it

I have no shame in saying this, but I am one sexually curious girl. I am still a virgin, and I barely have any experience. At the same time, I am very comfortable with my …uh libido. I’m a teenager, what do you expect?

In a way, I am a lot like guys I guess. I am a visual creature, and often find myself aroused at random times.

I’ve had many interesting conversations with boys and girls alike about this. I am totally comfortable when boys talk about pornography in its various forms. I even contribute sometimes. My exposure to porn has been limited to clicking pop-ups accidentally and seeing something I didn’t want to see. It’s mostly disgusting and there doesn’t seem to be a real relationships between the actors (well, because there aren’t) and I am not a fan of sex that is so impersonal. Furthermore, I find male pornstars quite fugly.

The type of guys that I am attracted to are really quite simple, even dorky. I mean I could definitely go without the comic books and the pocket protectors, but a preppy, geek is definitely my style. Like Ezra Koenig and Chris Tomson of the band Vampire Weekend. I am also way more turned on by skinny lanky guys than most buff guys. That being said, I have been recently getting more attention from jocks of different kinds, than from nice cute dorks. There have been some though, who have traits from both types. Like the aforementioned rambler, who had the somewhat muscular build, but had the absolutely geeky/dorky/simple boy mentality. Sigh. I still yearn for him. Too bad he was in a position of authority over me/I didn’t have the balls to ask him out/I don’t know anymore.

I have completely gotten over what happened with the blonde kid the other day. Meh.

Random molestation (but it’s not molestation if there is consent)

Despite being such a quirkyalone sometimes, I can be quite a social whore. Some people know me as being extremely outgoing, and rash with certain things. This is simultaneously a source of joy and embarrassment for me.

The other day I met up with one of my posses to hang out in the streets. One of them brought along this younger blond gentleman who just graduated from high school. I most definitely prefer guys with darker hair (i.e. chocolate brown) but it’s not like I am close-minded to everyone else. It rained quite heavily and we ended up heading over to a friend’s house.

The naivete of the blond kid amused me, so much so indeed. While we were still out, he had asked me to pick out CDs from him from this quaint little store, and he went with my obscure tastes 100%. But in a way I guess I admired his open-mindedness.

When we arrived at the friend’s house, we started to talk about philosophy. Being in a science program rarely gives me the opportunity for such mental delight, so I was quite intrigued. It was like intellectual foreplay.

Thanks to my touchy female friend, our intellectual conversation ceased and the three of us started randomly touching each other, not in a remotely sexual way though. It was weird. And quite funny. I randomly happened to say “My back hurts” and I got possibly one of the greatest back rubs in my life from the gentleman, which was weird and funny and quite amazingly delightful. Eventually, my touchy female friend left the room to go downstairs to get the pizza, I shortly made out with the blond guy. It was interesting because his lack of experience was obvious, but he was passionate. It lasted about a minute or two, then there was a sense of relief due to the fact that I was glad to get that unresolved sexual tension out of the way.

Later we returned to our normal ways and ate pizza. I pretended that nothing had happened with an indecent amount of ease. Although later that night, I came back home feeling guilty. It’s been a couple of days, and I’ve been feeling guilty still. If this feeling persists, I might have to ask that young douche out. I meant that in the most affectionate way possible.

No, it’s not all doom and gloom

There are obviously things that help me drudge through the eternal pit of boredom. I don’t want to see this path end anytime soon, so obviously there are things that pique my curiosity, excite my neurons, and give me mental orgasms, so to speak. I’ll briefly mention a few of those things here.

Devendra Banhart: This man is one of the most amazing things I have seen in my life. There is something so natural and ancient about his music that helps it bind organically to my life. Yet, I can never get tired of him. Perhaps one of the most underrated artists of our time.

Movies: This art form combines everything that has been done individually before and presents them in a way never before imaginable. Of course the majority that are produced are crappy in terms of artistic merit, but there is some good shit going on here. Seriously. It has mind-altering qualities and requires skills that most people fail to notice or underestimate.

Books: As long as there are writers in the world, I think I can make arrangements to keep myself looking as happy like it’s 1967. Sure would like to see more young people writing though (that is, not fanfiction and manga, but actual written literature).

The whole wide world!: Whatever would I do with my life if it weren’t for the Pacific Islands, the Andes, Ireland and France. Seriously. I am sometimes thankful that I am so small that I would never be able to traverse the entire globe in my whole lifetime. It’s all part of a big picture really, the big picture that I routinely continue to deny.

People: Whether they are boring, crazy, bigoted or stupid, never fail to amuse me. I have amazing friends, a crazy family I passionately dislike, and a whole ocean of individuals who I see everyday who juxtapose my life with another reality. What would I do indeed, in my vacuum, my whole in the wall, if I didn’t have all these people to think about.

My dog that died last winter: I can never forget you. I dream about you way too often. I don’t know what happened to you. I get extremely fragile whenever I even talk about you. I can’t believe I will never see you again. You are perhaps the only constant person in my life, I think about you every waking moment, and have nightmares about losing you at night. But I have lost you. I hope there is a Bermuda Triangle-like place somewhere, or an island like in Lost, so I can continue to believe that you are still alive and I never went back to India last winter and I have spoken to my parents since. Ignorance is bliss. Please don’t ever leave my life. I can still smell you around the house. I will try to keep my window more often every night so you can see me from wherever you are, perhaps through satellite images, that I suffer every day without you. I am sorry I did not spend as much time as I would have liked with you. I wish I could go back to the times I was with you and never let them pass. I wish I was fossilized in time just so that I could be with you. You are probably the only living creature I have ever always thought about, never wanted to harm and always will love.

School: The absurdity function reaches its maximum in this place. There is no other place where I could learn how weak and how strong I am. It makes me ecstatic and puts me in a deep well of misery. I would have never known what an intellectual masochist I was without this. I am still paying my dues. I forget what I am actually penitent for.

Parents: I will continue to blame my flaws on you, since everything good about me is deviant in your eyes. I continue to punish myself for what I once thought I did wrong to you. I want to undo the negative aspects of your influence in my life. Dear father, you’re a terrible person. Accept it. Get help. Mother, stop taking shit from other people. It’s not a virtue.

The rambler: After a very long time, you are the first one to have caused my hormones to play tricks on me again. It’s not like you are perfect, but I like you anyway. I lust for you. I want to know you better. I want to love you. But that’s not going to happen. Probably not ever. You are at least five years older than me, and you’ll probably chuckle and say something like “You’re not my type” if you had the slightest clue. So I hope that may be we can one day get to something close to friendship. That’s all I can hope for really. But the chances of that too seem depressingly dim. These are the times I wish I could see the grander design, the one in which I have no faith.

I guess that’s all for today. There is going to be Don’s party soon. Hope to play some guitar hero. But before that I think should confess some things:

- I think I forgot how to love people.
- I need someone to teach me.
- I have never been in a real relationship in my life. There have been “dates” or very intimate friends, but I have never fallen in love.
- I sometimes wonder if I would have better relationship luck if I weren’t straight.
-I sometimes wonder if cultural circumstances have forced me to accept that firstly I am a girl (I used to think I was a boy as a child), and that I am sexually attracted to males. While I am pretty sure I am completely straight, I still hate my own ethnicity for being retarded homophobes.
- I wish I thought in my own language more often. But as Taslima Nasrin said, it’s a language filled with passion and emotion, not that great for expressing anger, being direct and blunt. I guess since my emotions are predominantly dominated by anger, frustration and the need to be short and blunt, I don’t have much use for that sweet poetic tongue anymore…I still regret it greatly.
- I only am attracted to white guys. Guys of my own ethnicity anger me because of their clothing style, their tendency to be sexist bastards and liking them will just be following tradition, and I really don’t want any of that.

I am gonna go eat some chocolate now.

Introduction

This is the first blog post I have ever written in my young life of eighteen years.

Despite being a casual writer, I have cautiously steered clear of cyberspace to share my works. Reasons for which, I think I’d rather elaborate on another time.

I try to introduce myself this way, but again aphasia strikes. Nothing sums up my being as well as the pretty word “aphasia”.

There was once a man named Lucky who would say the most amazing things, in a beautiful cryptic tongue, yet aphasia had him too.

The utter boredom of our lives have never been so magnificently portrayed as it has been in Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot. The scholastic types may cite it as one of the greatest examples of absurdist drama, while others think it is simply crap, but to me, it’s nothing but stating the mere obvious. We are eternally bored. That however, doesn’t make it any less brilliant.

Today I wish to begin this journey, to explore the depths of how bored I am. Bored with education, bored with the music of our times, bored with magazines, bored with fashion, bored with television, bored with movies but most of all, bored with the utter lack of creativity in the lives of people today. Bored with the fact that those around me never like to experiment anymore, with their behaviour, with their society, with their thoughts and their talents. Bored because everything seems to be laid out for me, that I have a bright affluent future ahead of me and I truly want none of it.

Perhaps I am sounding a little too cynical. No I definitely love my life and who I am. I wish there would be a little more excitement. Not just in my life, but for our society as a whole. There needs to be more adventure; I sometimes think that our times are just not tumultuous enough and that the general desire for the young generations to rebel and set new societal standards have somewhat diminished. What our generation has accomplished, in terms of social change and inception of new concepts, I seem to find really, really boring.

There are however things that excite me very much. But I have to experience most of them them alone, in a library, in front of my computer, on the streets of Toronto, in my general everyday life as a university student. The sheer psychedelia of life and nature has not faded away, but people’s interest in them seem to have.

This is just going to be my cry in the vast vacuum of cyberspace. I don’t think many will hear, but it will at least exist.