Perhaps you’ve been able to see yourself more clearly after reading about specific emotional/perceptual obstacles. Perhaps you’ve always been so introspective. Perhaps you’ve merely produced a story about yourself that sounds convincing.
I’ve always thought about stuff a lot on a deliberate, analytical level. From a pretty young age, I remember being able to distance myself from my immediate circumstances and imagine “which part of the story” I was in now. (The tendency to fit my life into story format is one that’s been with me all along, and is probably helpful in some ways and unhelpful in others.) I’ve always been able to put words to my emotions and describe the way they interact in detail–I think I’ve found that just the act of analyzing the way I feel allows me to step back far enough that negative emotions aren’t painful anymore, just interesting. One of the most common topics of discussion between me and my sister is trying to analyze other people’s actions, mostly people in her high school crowd, where social dynamics are exaggerated in terms drama and scope–I apply my knowledge of cognitive science and ev-psych, and it’s one of my favourite conversation games.
That being said, my ability to tell a coherent, convincing story for my own actions doesn’t mean that’s what’s really going on, underneath all my opaque brain circuitry. Introspection is imperfect. Just because it feels true to me doesn’t mean it is.
I chose that role deliberately when I was about 13. Come to think of it, that was probably a direct reaction to figuring out that I’d wasted 4 years before that believing I was secretly a powerful princess fighting against some vaguely defined, evil adult conspiracy.
Like Swimmer, I like to romanticize the simple and selfless life. I resolved to be the friendly lady down in apartment 2B whose kind words echo dramatically upon recollection and bring the main character to some significant insight that helps them save the day and get the girl. But somewhere along the line I realized that I could still live in an apartment and give sage-like advice and cookies to passerby if I was mind-numbingly rich, I’d just do it well dressed and with a very wide budget margin. Which I could then spend on just about -anything-. And possibility space is infinite! Forget helping Peter Parker down the hall, I could be messing with the heads of the entire next generation of characters! Why just be a Mrs. Figg when I could be a Mr. Hat and Cloak too?
I’ve always thought about stuff a lot on a deliberate, analytical level. From a pretty young age, I remember being able to distance myself from my immediate circumstances and imagine “which part of the story” I was in now. (The tendency to fit my life into story format is one that’s been with me all along, and is probably helpful in some ways and unhelpful in others.) I’ve always been able to put words to my emotions and describe the way they interact in detail–I think I’ve found that just the act of analyzing the way I feel allows me to step back far enough that negative emotions aren’t painful anymore, just interesting. One of the most common topics of discussion between me and my sister is trying to analyze other people’s actions, mostly people in her high school crowd, where social dynamics are exaggerated in terms drama and scope–I apply my knowledge of cognitive science and ev-psych, and it’s one of my favourite conversation games.
That being said, my ability to tell a coherent, convincing story for my own actions doesn’t mean that’s what’s really going on, underneath all my opaque brain circuitry. Introspection is imperfect. Just because it feels true to me doesn’t mean it is.
If I’m a character in a story, I’m a minor side character in someone else’s.
I chose that role deliberately when I was about 13. Come to think of it, that was probably a direct reaction to figuring out that I’d wasted 4 years before that believing I was secretly a powerful princess fighting against some vaguely defined, evil adult conspiracy.
Like Swimmer, I like to romanticize the simple and selfless life. I resolved to be the friendly lady down in apartment 2B whose kind words echo dramatically upon recollection and bring the main character to some significant insight that helps them save the day and get the girl. But somewhere along the line I realized that I could still live in an apartment and give sage-like advice and cookies to passerby if I was mind-numbingly rich, I’d just do it well dressed and with a very wide budget margin. Which I could then spend on just about -anything-. And possibility space is infinite! Forget helping Peter Parker down the hall, I could be messing with the heads of the entire next generation of characters! Why just be a Mrs. Figg when I could be a Mr. Hat and Cloak too?
Whose story? Is their story interesting? Do you have a crucial role to play at some point, or are you mainly an observer?
Sounds fun. Also fun: concoct fanciful stories behind strangers’ behavior (optimizing for story value/cleverness, not likelihood).