Personal Reflections on Psychology, Pt.1

Today I'm going to look at something I have learned about during my time here on Earth.

We all experience it, though most of us don't realize that it's there. It's the effect a room has upon us, and our personality at that moment. We've all heard how certain colors being prevalent in a room will influence the way we feel. Certain colors have a calming effect, making you feel more at ease with yourself and those around you. Other colors can bring out anger, rage, jealousy, and apprehension.

Now, we know that colors influence the way we feel in a place, but the lesser known fact is that previous experiences can greatly impact how you feel about where you are. It's a sad, but proven fact that victims of heinous crimes often will feel the most vulnerable and exposed when in the same room or place the crime was committed. It is often much, much harder for a widow to move forward from their loss while living under the same roof that their spouse once shared with them.

This is so true, in fact, that many professionals suggest that, in order to get the best night sleep, you should refrain from doing much else in your bed -but- sleep. If you play games, browse the net, talk on the phone, and so on a lot while in bed, your body won't become accustomed to the bed as the chosen place of rest, and it will take you up to 30 minutes longer to pull off your much needed shut eye.

This comes around to my point. If the power of previous experience is so strong that it can bring someone to tears, even to suicide, then it should become obvious fast that we should put ourselves most often in places that make us feel the best. Living in a house with a person you hate, and have hated for a while now, can be detrimental to your mental health and stamina. You'll find that if you cannot tolerate the other person, you will sleep later, longer, and wake up constantly groggy and possibly even slightly angry.

The worse part is, these feelings, once firmly set, are hard to escape while within the barriers of the rooms filled with such experiences. Intense hurt will not wane, even when the room is devoid of all but yourself. Screaming matches with your mother or father, long past, will still dwell within you when you stand in the rooms where they often happened. Dealing with these problems is something everyone can do, but it's truly a journey for yourself and yourself alone.

The worst situation one can find themselves in is when you are in a place full of these negative emotions, and cannot find a way out. The combination between the two will cause them both to increase in intensity, as you're faced with what seems to be a room, full of poison gas, and no way to escape it. You begin to panic, breathing quickens in pace, and you've effectively succumbed to the 'poison' in an even quicker fashion.

Such is the case with my house. Coming home is the worst part of the day, any and every day. What's expected, as I walk up the driveway to enter what most would call a humble abode, is fear, anger, hate, regret, and a whole slew of negative emotions. They bombard me before I even walk inside. This is because of repeated, inescapable arguments with my mother, where bumping heads have turned into tooth and nail ravishing that leaves our emotions torn and bloody, and our feelings for each other just that little bit more tattered than before.

I know first hand how powerful emotions from previous experiences can be, and it's a good thing to know that these are the reasons you may feel uneasy around someone, something, or someplace. Identify an exit before you attempt to face such emotions, and after you can assure yourself that escape is possible, that your personal battle won't back you against a wall, then begin the healing process that you alone must find. If you can't find an exit, then force yourself to search for a way out before allowing yourself to experience those emotions full-swing. I wish I could tell you exactly how to handle a situation where the bad experiences are still piling, but all I can say is that if you have the means, and the problems are so bad, walk away from them. Save the healing for another day.

It is said that those who live today, will survive to fight again tomorrow.

Crazy, Troubling Dreams...

So, I had an interesting set of dreams recently. The interesting part, is that these dreams are separated by weeks, and yet perfectly link up to each other. I don't have that happen often, and even less so, so long apart. It made the dream seem frighteningly real.

Due to the fact that this has perturbed me so, I'm going to write both dreams out to you, and to myself, for future generations to wtf about.

The first dream, occurring no less than three weeks before the second, goes easily enough:

I'm myself, first person, at an unknown and at least half-popular band's concert. Really enjoying myself, I'm partially moshing around, yet avoiding the main fray because I'm a little afraid of hurting someone, or a real brawl to break out.

As I'm listening, and bouncing around a little, I accidentally bump this chick in front of me, who turns around to get in my face about it. Then, I recognize her as one of my middle school teachers, a particular one that was really young for being a teacher, which would explain why she was there.

So, after recognizing one another, we start to catch up. She asks me how I got in, the tickets here were hard to get so close. I tell her that I'm friends with the band, and they get me in to most of the concerts. I'm basically working for them apparently, a quality control agent. If the band doesn't sound up to par, I inform them after the show, and they mix it up.

She thinks that's an awesome job to have, and asks about aspirations, as teachers often do. I tell her my aims are high, that I want to own a large-scale graphics business, and set it up to earn my money whilst I cater to my real creative side. She loves the idea, and tells me to go for it, and I smile and tell her that I'm already on my way. A little more indiscernible conversation occurs, and the dream is at an end.

The first dream was in my original conclusion really enjoyable, and a good sign for my overall mental health, even if it really seemed like a small dream.

Then, last night, my second dream.

Everything starts with Josh, the teacher, a few other people, and myself all wearing the same, blue shirts while getting preparations done at this really high-rise resort along the beach. We've all come together to run this cool contest for teens, something about finding the most outstanding, well-rounded individual in the US.

Josh is the host of the whole thing, announcing the next challenge, and talking them through it. The teacher is doing the coordination, setting everything up and making sure that the area the next challenge is in is arranged before the group arrives, and assuring that everything goes smoothly during the competition. I'm doing the interviews and all the film-related stuff, carrying a nice camera around with me everywhere, and generally keeping myself busy.

Most of the challenges go by without an issue, everything working out perfectly. Josh is doing a good job with keeping the people entertained and active in what they should be doing. Together, him and I keep them upbeat and lighthearted, even when some of them lose friends as they're eliminated, or get stressed when they come close.

The last step of the contest involving physical capability just over, all of the remaining kids start in for the resort. I get some filming done of them walking up the beach, and then head in with the rest of the staff, Josh staying behind to speak with the kids as they all head for the next challenge.

I ride up an elevator with around eleven other people, including my old school teacher, and we enter a room not unlike a furnished warehouse. It's walls and ceiling are dry walled and such, painted and furnishings put out such as seats and stuff, but you get this feeling that it's more for storage than for other people in the resort to see.

In the back of the storage room, there are all these desks set up in a semi-circle, and I count no less than fifty. Setting myself up for the shot when the kids come out of the elevator and up the stairs to arrive, I leave everyone else who's working alone.

The kids arrive, I get my shots, and they all sit and wait on the floor, a little ways away from the desks. We're waiting for the people who came up with me to finish setting up. Josh is trying to inspire the group to keep them upbeat, and calls me into it. We both have a good time keeping them excited, with myself pulling off a huge chant with them all, as they were getting loud and no one could hear anything we had to say.

My old teacher comes up to Josh, whispers something in his ear, and then he announces that it's time for the next challenge. He stands up, motions for everyone to move to a desk in the semicircle, and reveals what appears to be the next challenge, saying that we're going to talk about Katrina.

I shrug off the fact that I don't like the topic at hand, seeing as I know Josh well enough that he thinks Katrina and New Orleans was all retarded. He's said to me again and again that he thinks they're a bunch of whiners that got what was coming to them, and that people in Mississippi are overlooked, even though they had huge flooding. It's his choice, and everyone had at least one contest that was theirs personally.

As a person who looks a -lot- like Steven's dad stands in the middle of the semi-circle, talking about something that doesn't seem to pertain to Katrina in the slightest, motions to the group about part of the challenge being the creation of a petition, I scan the kids with my camera. I eventually do a close-up of some medals that the guy has on display, and then retreat to this little cubby over in the corner of the room, where I can film the speaker without being in the way of everyone.

When I get there, Jake is there too, working on his camera. He's wearing a blue shirt too, so he's part of the team. We talk quietly for a bit, enjoying a bit of reminiscing while the kids listen to the speaker. So far, everything is great. Then, as suddenly as can be, it all collapses.

As we're quietly speaking, and I'm filming, Brenden Tidd, whom a lot of you reading this do not know, points to our cubby and makes a move towards it, calling it something like a personal throne room. My old teacher tells him to sit back down, or else, and Tidd rebutts that we're back there, so he can be.

My old teacher responds that it doesn't matter, as both Jake and I are off the team, and we need to leave immediately. Jake and I grow indignant, because we did nothing wrong. Jake ends up just leaving, and my old teacher comes over to the cubby, telling me again that I have to leave.

I call her out, telling her that it's crap that she even thinks she can do this, as I was one of the originals who came up with this idea. Then, she starts ripping at me, telling me that I've always been so full of myself. I'm confused, and let her know that. She informs me that I think I'm so much better than anyone else, and that I've constantly got to let other people know that. Now I'm both hurt and confused. She's smiling, and tells me that she's never really appreciated me as a person, and refers to the time at the concert, saying that she 'had to endure me' through the entire thing, and that I ruined the entire experience for her. I'm angry now, because I really liked her, and she seemed to like me as a person back. Suddenly, I feel like all this trust I put into her has been wasted, and I'm holding myself back from doing something really bad, when she pipes up that 'everyone on the team agrees.'

Then, my alarm clock goes off. I decide that this is a dream that I don't want to pursue, and wake up to write this for future reference. Had my alarm gone off a few moments earlier, then it would have been an amazing dream. As it stands, it sucked it up horribly.

So go figure. I'll reread this later, and maybe try to analyze it. Tell me what you think. Keep it serious, at least as serious as you can.

P.S.: This is counting as a Writing Exercise.

Blast From The Past: Mystery Review

February 1, 2008 by Wolfey

Ok, so sue me. Oh, look at him, Wolfey won't update fast enough for me, he's so slow. What's his problem?

Come on, I know you 5 readers are thinking that. Well, here's another, straight from this slow-pokes mouth.

This afternoon, I was sitting in the restroom, conducting business nature had long ago planned for all of us in her uber eco-corporate office of hers, and thinking about this site.A majority of you who I know read this, well, I know face to face. I don't really expect a lot of outside readers, as much as I would absolutely -love- to have people I've never met from all around the world reading about my life and laughing at it like it's a big sit-com. I had plans for this place, people! I was going to be a -star-! Write about the news, say my piece on just about every topic under the sun, and most of all, -review- things.

Yeah, that far-fetched dream where a few producers throw me a bone every once in a while, so as I may give my unfettered spin of what should be where and why I do/don't like said product. Instead, here I am, hardly saying a word. Well, one step at a time. And with that said, I bring you my next review, with a little prologue on where I got the idea.

Remember, I was sitting on the pot.

Cottonelle Ultra, brought to you by the makers of Kleenex, the tissue used most by football players after they declare that they're 'going to Disneyland!' (Superbowl Sunday, people! COMMERCIAL TIME :D) Being on sale at Publix for the attractive price of 2 for 7.00$, my sister and I got 12 rolls of the stuff, hoping for the best.

Now, I'm not picky about my toilet paper. I notice a lot of these producers put frilly patterns on my ass-paper, and frankly, I don't understand it. It sits on a roll in a bathroom that is deserted for most of the day, and when someone arrives, it's shining moment of recognition is also it's downfall. You don't look at toilet paper unless you plan on using it. Well, Kleenex seems to know this and skips over the frills for a very, very functional ridge design. It makes me think I have some professional toilet paper, like it went to school for this.

One issue I have had with toilet paper in the past happens to be with texture and softness. I'm a man, and as a man, I like some rough things. I like to play football, I like to fight, and I also like to ATV when I can through mud, bushes, and other wilderness things. I do not like to be reminded of these things while in the process of using my toilet paper. I'll be the man to admit what we've all been thinking: as manly as we like to be, we like soft, supple toilet paper that makes our asses feel like pampered princesses. Those who do not agree, please get a reality check, or just use leaves. This Cottonelle Ultra was amazingly what I was hoping for, making... well, making my ass feel like a pampered princess. Next paragraph.

Something we all don't want to think about when we're thinking toilet paper (as if we like to think toilet paper) is whether it's going to be there for the long run. That's right, none of us want to think about that paper that ends out like Mir coming out of orbit halfway through a wipe. We want a paper that'll hold up through a wipe, fold, and make another pass. Give me my snowspeeder of toilet papers! It has finally come to pass: this toilet paper can easily take down any AT-AT you have... up there.

Lastly, for the fact that I'm actually in a writing mood, I'll tackle an altogether nonexistent issue with toilet paper: the mascot. I've never really been sold on mascots, more pushed away than anything. Some of them make no sense when it comes to our product. Little sewing ladies doesn't bring to mind -anything- I'd even remotely want near my ass, and the big fat bears strike fear to my exposed rear more than anything. and then you have Cottonelle, with a cute little puppy dog. It doesn't click any better, at first, but I now understand the message. Puppies are soft, and fluffy, and I'm sure if you found the urge would make your ass feel pampered and royal. Ah ha! What's more perfect (and televisable) to represent a content rump than a fluffy, fuzzy and soft puppy! My seat needs no shriveled old ladies sticking needles in my paper, nor do I want toilet paper that may attract bears. I don't care how many puppies play in my unraveled toilet paper as I do my business!

Ahem.

As for Cottonelle Ultra from Kleenex, I give it a 10 out of 10. I can assure you you'll have an enjoyable experience in your selected restroom establishment. Next week: ENDURANCE TESTING.