Empathy is Hard

It really is. Getting it into your head that somebody else is a person just like you, and they're walking around wrapped up in their own world of thoughts and worries and things, just like you. But the fog of thoughts makes it almost impossible to see somebody else's.

And I'm no good at it, really. Which makes me some kind of hypocrite, I'm sure, given the stuff I say, but.

The human mind does generally seem to be wired to deal with other humans, especially faces. To the point where things vaguely like a face can seem expressive. Even just two dots and a line, like so :)

But I'm not very good at it. I'm utter rubbish. I have an hard time keeping interested in somebody, and not treating them like the equivalent of an NPC in an RPG, where you talk to them long enough to get the info/item/convince them to join your party, then walk off. I don't do the small-talk thing. I miss all of whatever little subtle clues people are supposed to pick up on. People just generally, well, aren't interesting. Part of this probably has to do with practice, never learned the things, so didn't learn them later, and so on, which does somewhat influence brain structure, which is why habits are so hard to break and people are creatures of routine. And some of it's, I dunno.

In the abstract, though, I care a lot about people. And online, through text, I'm decent at reading people, but that's a matter of text, not at all the same subject. And people tend to be more blatant online, 'cause all the little cues aren't there.

So yeah. Empathy is hard. But you have to at least try and remember other people are going through life pretty much the same way you are. Everybody's at the center of their own moving screen, and the rest of us are just standing around saying "Welcome to Coneria!"

Tags: Mindscribbles,Me, Life, The Universe, and Everything

Stuff that Binds

"Are you sure that's what you want to call it? You must know some of your friends will take it entirely wrong."

I stood in the center of my room and shrugged. "That's half the fun," I said, "Besides, they all know I'm boring and any title like that is going to be just innuendo. Until one day I decide to link to a sex toy store or something, just to see them react."

The buddha spun lazily in my computer chair. "Huh," he said.

"I have way too much crap."

"Coming around to the idea that possessions cause desire which causes suffering?" he asked.

"No, not really. I just mean that I can't see half the floor in my room. And there's hundreds of books on my shelves I haven't read. Not really a spiritual angle at all. If anything, it's the opposite, because all the stuff is keeping me from making more connections with people, the kind that matter. Because there's a lot of it, and it can't be easily moved. And then there's the opportunity costs of it, too. Even with my old discount, and buying things at used bookstores, how much did those couple shelves of RPG books cost me? Games I've never run, never played in, hell, a bunch of the books I haven't even read. At all. Or the shelf of graphic novels, and the boxes of comics. I haven't pulled anything out of the comic boxes in months. And the random computer games. What else could I have spent that money on? School? Moving? Pornography?"

"You have the internet, free pornography abounds there."

"Okay, bad example. Travel. Maybe I've just done too much RPGs and fantasy stuff, but I keep thinking about traveling. Just wandering."

He stood up. "It's not nearly so romantic as it's made out to be. Especially when all you've got is a robe and a bowl. Spiritual, maybe, but not romantic."

"Meh," I said, "I'd rather have a bike, and GPS, and some kind of portable computer thing. The monk thing never has appealed to me. Much more ninja, be prepared, that's their motto. And the Boy Scouts. Anyway, things just take up too much space, and I haven't watched many of these movies or read any of these books in a while. Or ever, in some cases. And a lot, I read or watched once, then that was it. Movies don't hold much interest for me lately, at least as a solo thing."
"Wait, are we still talking about pornography here? I wasn't paying attention."

"One thing I'll give the Catholics, sloth is pretty bad. Not always, but overdone, oh yeah. Keeps things from getting done. What you need is applied laziness. Well, what I need. So what I need is something else that I need to feel I need to do, so I can put that off by cleaning and getting rid of crap. People usually only clean to avoid doing something else."

"So when will that happen? And are you going to get rid of Voltron?"

"Hell no. Voltron's the defender of the universe. He stays. But I can probably cull at least a third of the books. Just gotta sit down and look through things and ask myself 'Do I want this badly enough to keep it if I only had X space?' and then the stuff that's not, I give to friends, family, or the library or something. Maybe sell to a used bookstore."

The buddha turned and looked at me. "Why am I even here? This is your monologue, there's no questions or anything. And who do you think will be interested in any of this?"

I shrugged. "Probably nobody, though they might all leap t me and try and get me to give them the stuff I'm getting rid of. Few people would turn down loot."


Previously, on X-Men:
Stories from the Rabbit Hole
Stories from the Rabbit Hole, Part 2
There's a Buddha on My Bed
A Discussion of Procrastination and Buddhism
Buddhablog
Haven't Seen Him in a While
The Illusion of Pain