I have a bad habit of occasionally detaching myself from reality. I suspect it's coming from my preference to follow people instead of my own ambition, but that could be a story for another day.
Reminiscing (or blaming) my educational background in physics, I have the tendency to think on a rather abstract plane. [Not trying to boast, but rather seeing this as a form of self-observation that could be both a blessing and a curse.] By abstract, I mean theoretical. By theoretical, I mean I tend to explain or write things as basic as possible. It's as if I'm trying to make my thought to make sense to someone alien or unfamiliar with the subject matter. What.
Whenever I try to write in academic manner, I always find myself to trace the concept to its most basic constituent. If I want to explain about uranium, I somehow feel the need to make clear about the ideas of atoms first. What an atom is, what it's consisted of, how atoms relate to elements, and then the characteristics of uranium itself. Wait. That example is making too much sense, since naturally the topic of science is (almost) always deductive.
Of course, when talking about special scientific explanation such as quantum field theory, it's inevitable that people would like to know first about Schrodinger wave equation to understand what the heck you are blabbering about, then you need to make clear on the concept of Planck constant, and how the mathematics fits into this physical reality we're in. Well I guess you can always put it in simpler terms, if you're expert enough. Most of the times I'm not comprehending well enough to go beyond the realm of memorizing.
But since I'm already accustomed to obscure materials like this from the get-go, let's just say that it has become my reality, and it detached me from other forms of reality. Such as the one where you just simply live in, and form comprehension through action.
...That's quite an extensive way to say that I'm a total teacher's pet. A classroom bug. I learn things from books. I learn from theoretical viewpoints. But when it comes to actually living, I'm a total newbie.
I don't know how to act myself. I don't know where to put my hands when I walk. I don't know which way to stare when I take a gander. I don't know when it's appropriate to interrupt people without destroying the flow of conversation but also not having to deal with the expense of my sanity. I didn't know there are many ways to express love and people differ so significantly on it. I didn't know blogging was never a realistic way to earn money. I don't know a lot of things that people commonly understand before they even reach my age.
Recently I figured out that it's what can be called 'tacit knowledge', the kind of knowledge that's embedded in people, yet not documented in written or produced form, and it makes up approximately 70% of total overall knowledge. Things that you know how to do, how things work, but barely written or documented because there's no urgent need to do so. It's because usually we treat them as if they're common sense - or that it's not just your job. I mean, you don't normally go out your way to write a guideline on how to wear button-up shirts, on the procedure to order coffee in a certain cafe, or how to prepare your headspace for reading a difficult textbooks. With these things people ordinarily learn through other people who tell them how it's done, or through your own experience, but it's rarely something you can look up in books (or maybe up until now, thank you information age).
But I wished - I wished someone would have written me guidelines on how to live life.
That there would be a book solely dedicated to teach you how to tie your shoes. How to learn to drive and change your tires. How to pick for good electronics, parts where they could malfunction and how to fix them. How to chew quietly and where to put your hands when you walk. How to remind yourself not to slouch and drink eight glass of water every day. How to make friends and avoid saying things that might hurt them. How to remember to pick up your backpack after you sat it down to play basketball.
Obviously, you would say to me, that it's not how life works. You have to experience it all yourself and learn while you live. Things will happen, things will change, and you will have to somehow adapt to it.
You will buy one shitty earphone and have a bad impression on the brand overall. Then you will buy more earphone and found out that two years are a sufficient endurance time for one earphone to last. You will befriend someone, get attached to them rather unhealthily and you will have to separate when you graduate and you will not hear from them again and when you do it's as if you already live in different worlds and there's no bridging. You will meet someone and become closer until you push beyond the boundaries of friendship and then you will find that it's not all rainbows and sunshines. You will hurt them and you will get hurt, but the world goes on whether you survive or not. Very personal experiences, I know.
Even if there are detailed guidelines of how to live your life, there is still going to be loopholes or gaps. There's no formula for everything. Even if there is a generalized theory that applies everywhere, it's not going to help with your miniscule activities. Even if there is a personalized theory that applies for everything that you do or happens to you, it's not going to be entirely helpful or prescriptive for your future situation.
Rigidity is the enemy of flexibility, and adaptability is what makes humans human, after all.
Of course I might be able to talk all high and mighty like this, when in fact I would still resort to my old ways, old habits, just because it's hard to live in this present, in this reality.
Driven by my philosophy and desire for everything to be deterministic, I once had a phase where I tried to document everything that I do. What I ate, what I drank, what I did during the day, how I'm feeling, what problems I encountered, and what kind of thoughts occurred. I tried to 'stat' them out like I was in a game. Who knows if there's going to be a similar thing happening in the future, and I would be prepared for it when I already have the recipe.
Needless to say that it didn't work out all that well. Writing everything like that takes time, and it's tedious. There's going to be knowledge left undocumented, there's going to be emotions left unsaid. When you learn, you learn, and you can thank your brain for that. Just because you can write about it doesn't mean you have to. Just because you can write about it doesn't mean you've learnt. Description doesn't equate prescription. Just because it's written down in history books doesn't mean men aren't prone to repeating it again.
Due to that, I stopped writing, because what's the point then?
But needless to say, once more, that it's not the point. Just because I had a blunder in writing doesn't mean I have to stop writing altogether. In fact, writing might be just what I need right now. Since I've been so detached from reality, it could be a way for me to ground myself in the moment. Jotting down what I'm feeling, what I'm thinking, what I'm doing.
Not everything. Not trying to be clever. Not trying to form a recipe. Just write to be here, to be who I am and where I am right now.
