The sort of person who reads text books for fun

There is something about psychology that really intrigues me. Perhaps it is the thought that if I learn enough I will be able to digest and interpret the strange workings of my own head. Over the past year I have read three psychology text books and am now digging into my fourth-personality theories. One hundred pages in I can't help but feel like my damn near hatred of my room mates cat, the fact that I haven't dreamed in six months, and my unusual disability in expressing anger are all representative of some internal dialogue my subconscious is having that my brain would love to hear. But how do I make my brain capable of listening? Personally, one of the most intriguing aspects of people like Freud and Jung are that many of the theories they have were first developed by their intense scrutiny and study of their own psyche.

As an art student surrounded by art kids I feel I have a wonderful opportunity to observe brains that operate on a different frequency than most people in society. My greatest curiosity is the question of why certain people are drawn to the sporadic intense and at times insecure life style of becoming an artist. My hypothesis is that while everyone needs at least some degree of creative expression to feel balanced, an art kid is someone who NEEDS it to survive. I find it a beautiful irony that in order for artists to feel alive we must give up most of the typical comforts of life -security, support, and at times even the prospects of having a family. But we must make these sacrifices.

I have often contemplated what the world would be like without art institutions, or perhaps more importantly where would all these neurotic brilliant misunderstood over looked yet utterly essential human beings go? Although people on the other side may not understand or be willing to admit, I believe artists exist to provide humanity a vicarious outlet to experiences perceivably unavailable to them. The collective unconscious of today's world begs for greater freedom, honesty, integrity, and genuine experience because of a suffocating sense of being controlled by unseen forces. While the majority plugs into a mundane routine dictated by dogma and societal pressures, there must be a balance of chaotic free expression else where. And that is where we come in. The kids who drop acid and spend three days straight doing their painting homework. The kids who feel things so intensely, yet mask it so successfully, that were it not for our artistic releases would become bottled up and emerge as severe physical and mental ailments. The kids who were pushed so far down by society that the only way to validate our existence is to spend our lives dedicated to letting everyone in on a little preview of how the world looks like to us. We need those four years of art school to gain confidence in our way of seeing and in ourselves, because there will always be more people who discredit what we do than who support it.

But they need us. They don't know it- but they do. While everyone else gets thrown head first into the pit of being an adult, art kids are just that....those pure of heart who truly remain in their essence adventurous playful emotional sensitive KIDS. So as I dig deeper and deeper I find solace in being the type of person who encourages anyone and everyone to get in touch with their inner child. One of the greatest compliments I have received from friends over the years is that in my ability to conquer fear of judgement, in my ability to find a sliver lining and to attempt to love unconditionally despite failures and trials, that I have inspired them to be more true- not in a sense to who they are- but to the beautiful vision of who they would like to be.

Reading through the personality theories text book initially had me feeling very limited and frustrated. From a scientific view our personality's are predicable, typical, and far less in our control than we may believe. I had a hard time wrapping my head around the belief that everything I am and do can be reduced to a formula. But in a sense- if this is true it means we may discover the archetypes and symptoms of our defects and integrate that into a useful means of over coming them. But it is a lot of hard work.

Discovering not only who you perceive yourself to be but on a biological level what you are predisposed to experience can be a scary thing.

My immediate family has a history of mental illnesses ranging from bipolar disorder, to depression and schizophrenia. Most of the symptoms of these do no manifest until you are in your early twenties. And here I am. Trying to sift through the difference between being an expressive eccentric soul and being unbalanced. What I crave more than anything is truth. Yet I often come close to verifying a personal truth only to become disheartened because there is some basic human need in all of us for our thoughts and feelings to be validated by others.

I become less and less sure that other people really exist in the independent way we tend to perceive that they do. An ego is such a complex matter and we spend so much time developing ourselves through who we are surrounded by that I can hardly consider painting a portrait of myself and my inner workings without first looking at my friends- how I perceive them, how they perceive me, and the discrepancy between that person and the person I internally feel like I am.

So who are we really? The voice inside our heads that attempts to rationalize and understand all that we do? Are we the persona that is interpreted by our friends and the external world? Or are we a deeper rooted essence that constantly motivates us to become something more than our current condition- are we our potential for evolution and self actualization even if we aren't there yet? We are all. We are nothing. We are empty. We are over flowing. We are man and women, idiot, intellect and magician. We are human. And hopefully with five hundred pages left to go, I will delve a little deeper into what that means.

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