Friday – Yes, I’m Watching You
Apr. 30th, 2010 12:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermore.
.
.
It’s the quiet ones you have to watch; at least that’s what I hear. As a quiet one myself (though once I get to know people I let down my guard and they tend to forget this and even scoff at the idea of it) I can tell you why you might want to watch us a little more closely: because we are watching you.
I am sensitive to my environment. I can’t watch horror movies because the anguish and fear of the victims in them overwhelms me. Loud noises don’t just drive me up the wall, they cause the muscles in my neck and head to tense up and the pain is severe enough to send me diving for a bottle of ibuprofen so I can still function. My hands are so sensitive that I have a hard time opening jars, not because I am not strong enough to do so (I am), but because the sensation of the skin on my hand being pulled as I twist the lid is excruciating to me. I absorb the world around me like a sponge. I think that this accounts for a lot of my social (not to mention career) paralysis; I am often shell-shocked by my own emotions. It’s just the way I’m wired.
But even when I am still, I am absorbing and analyzing the world and the people around me because I can’t turn this off no matter how hard I try. I know a lot about people because I soak up their details without wanting to. I am more aware of the people I come in contact with than they are of themselves. In fact, I am amazed at how little most people know about themselves. Most people assume that they represent the norm and that other people think and function the same way they do. They judge everyone around them by the standards they themselves live by. They are so certain that they are a perfect representation of humanity that they ignore any and all evidence that contradicts it.
But we sensitive sorts know that people are like snowflakes. Even when they look the same, there are a lot of differences, both subtle and large. That’s part of what makes it so hard to stop observing people: you are all just so darned interesting and complex.
I’ve learned something about the individuals who have drifted by in my life: how they perceived other people can tell you little about the observed, but everything you need to know about the observer. For example, a person who trusts everyone is probably honest; a person who trusts no one is almost always a liar. A person who assumes the best about people is basically good; a person who assumes the worst about everyone is a son-of-a-bitch. A person who looks down his nose at everyone he meets and considers them all fools is, in fact, the biggest fools you will ever meet. A person who never changes his mind is not paying attention to the world around him. A person who says Now, I’m not saying I’m perfect is saying just that. A person who sees the world in terms of black and white is ignoring all the other colors (not to mention the shades of gray) and their observations about pretty much everything should be taken with a grain of salt.
Of course there are drawbacks to be being an astute observer. We sensitive sorts often forget to watch our own backs; it’s hard to with all the distractions we see in front of us. We are also not so good at observing ourselves. I am constantly surprised to hear what others think of me, in large part because it has so little resemblance to how I see myself. I assume most people are mostly good, yet seriously flawed in a variety of ways; I guess that’s accurate about me, too. This filter of assuming the best about people makes it hard to accept it when I find myself in the company of a person my intellect and observations tell me is trouble; I don’t want to believe it about them. I keep hoping the liar will tell the truth, the jerk will discover his own humanity, and that the arrogant fool will find his humility.
I guess that makes me a bit of a fool myself.
* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * # * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *
.
.
It’s the quiet ones you have to watch; at least that’s what I hear. As a quiet one myself (though once I get to know people I let down my guard and they tend to forget this and even scoff at the idea of it) I can tell you why you might want to watch us a little more closely: because we are watching you.
I am sensitive to my environment. I can’t watch horror movies because the anguish and fear of the victims in them overwhelms me. Loud noises don’t just drive me up the wall, they cause the muscles in my neck and head to tense up and the pain is severe enough to send me diving for a bottle of ibuprofen so I can still function. My hands are so sensitive that I have a hard time opening jars, not because I am not strong enough to do so (I am), but because the sensation of the skin on my hand being pulled as I twist the lid is excruciating to me. I absorb the world around me like a sponge. I think that this accounts for a lot of my social (not to mention career) paralysis; I am often shell-shocked by my own emotions. It’s just the way I’m wired.
But even when I am still, I am absorbing and analyzing the world and the people around me because I can’t turn this off no matter how hard I try. I know a lot about people because I soak up their details without wanting to. I am more aware of the people I come in contact with than they are of themselves. In fact, I am amazed at how little most people know about themselves. Most people assume that they represent the norm and that other people think and function the same way they do. They judge everyone around them by the standards they themselves live by. They are so certain that they are a perfect representation of humanity that they ignore any and all evidence that contradicts it.
But we sensitive sorts know that people are like snowflakes. Even when they look the same, there are a lot of differences, both subtle and large. That’s part of what makes it so hard to stop observing people: you are all just so darned interesting and complex.
I’ve learned something about the individuals who have drifted by in my life: how they perceived other people can tell you little about the observed, but everything you need to know about the observer. For example, a person who trusts everyone is probably honest; a person who trusts no one is almost always a liar. A person who assumes the best about people is basically good; a person who assumes the worst about everyone is a son-of-a-bitch. A person who looks down his nose at everyone he meets and considers them all fools is, in fact, the biggest fools you will ever meet. A person who never changes his mind is not paying attention to the world around him. A person who says Now, I’m not saying I’m perfect is saying just that. A person who sees the world in terms of black and white is ignoring all the other colors (not to mention the shades of gray) and their observations about pretty much everything should be taken with a grain of salt.
Of course there are drawbacks to be being an astute observer. We sensitive sorts often forget to watch our own backs; it’s hard to with all the distractions we see in front of us. We are also not so good at observing ourselves. I am constantly surprised to hear what others think of me, in large part because it has so little resemblance to how I see myself. I assume most people are mostly good, yet seriously flawed in a variety of ways; I guess that’s accurate about me, too. This filter of assuming the best about people makes it hard to accept it when I find myself in the company of a person my intellect and observations tell me is trouble; I don’t want to believe it about them. I keep hoping the liar will tell the truth, the jerk will discover his own humanity, and that the arrogant fool will find his humility.
I guess that makes me a bit of a fool myself.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-05-01 01:44 am (UTC)people are like snowflakes. Even when they look the same, there are a lot of differences, both subtle and large. That’s part of what makes it so hard to stop observing people: you are all just so darned interesting and complex.
I'm always wildly curious about the why's in people's lives. Why do they believe what they do? Act that way? Think that? Chose that career? End up in that job?
I have to say I believe a little differently about those that "trust no one." I think sometimes it is experience that...they want to but have been conditioned by experience that trust can...well...bite them in the back.
But maybe your interpretation is closer to the truth.
I'll have to think about that.
no subject
Date: 2010-05-01 02:52 am (UTC)This.
no subject
Date: 2010-05-01 12:31 pm (UTC)There are two kinds of people who don't trust: the liar and the walking wounded. The liar (who I wrote about above) assumes everyone is a liar, like he is, so he (or she) distrusts other people innately. The walking wounded, on the other hand, once had the ability to trust but have been robbed of it by bad experience (often with members of the first group).
The innate liar will never learn to trust because he or she cannot be trusted; they will always assume you are manipulating them. The walking wounded can learn to trust, but they do it on a case-by-case basis; you have to earn their trust and you won't win it easily. This is why I used the words "almost always a liar" instead of "always a liar" above, to acknowledge the walking wounded. I've met plenty of them and am sympathetic to their damage.
Maybe I should change the worlds "almost always" to "often" since I have done no scientific research to determine the ratio of pathological liars to wounded souls among the distrustful. You'd think some university psychology department would get a government grant to look into this so I could Google it and have the data at my fingertips. They may be 50/50 now that I think about it. I will stand by that when you meet a person who can't trust, you are dealing with one or the other, and knowing which they are will help you determine how to manage the relationship. With a liar, you should end the relationship if you can because no good will come from it. The walking wounded are often worth winning over, though, if you have the time and patience.
I stand by my assertion that the person who assumes the best of you when you meet them is trust worthy and good. I've yet to meet the exception to this rule. :)
no subject
Date: 2010-05-01 12:33 pm (UTC)