on Over Analyzing.

In order to properly function in the course of our day-to-day lives, it is imperative that we analyze the various stimuli encountered therein. This is a fairly obvious concept. When we make a note that a friend is sad or keeping a secret, we know these things from the various social cues that we pick up from observing the world around us. The human ability to translate passing subtleties into informative notions about our external surroundings is truly a remarkable trait. We spend so much of our time processing every parcel of new sensory information that often times we fall victim to the pitfalls of over analyzation. This intricate abnormality in the way in which human beings interact to the world around them is in and of itself both fascinating and troubling.

Over analyzation can manifest in any number of suitably distinct ways. Most often, we over analyze when fixated on an idea or thought. The way in which one goes through a day while simultaneously and subconsciously processing every stimulus presented is almost without notice. Our brains allow us to operate routinely, often without our own realization. This allows us to function in a social setting in a manner that is appropriate to both our own means and the expectations of others without wasting half of our time in figuring it all out. Fixation occurs when an idea, conclusion, or thought does not 'fit' within the constraints of our regular, subconscious processing. Once this has occurred, we begin to actively assess the idea over and over until our conscious minds can produce a satisfying explanation that sates the part of us that finds fault with it.

The trick, if there is such a thing, is that oftentimes the things we perceive as commonplace do not hold up to rigorous scrutiny or 'logical' deduction. Take the idea of a friend that is sad. How do we know he is sad? Perhaps his face looks sad. What looks sad about his face? His eyebrows are arched and his mouth is frowning. Why are those looks associated with being sad? Most sad people have this face. What if that is just how his face normally looks? This is just a small example of the complex logic chain involved with deducing very common things. Obviously, we do not go through such a strenuous investigation every time we encounter something. Our brains use 'shortcuts' -- workarounds that allow us to get from the proverbial Point A all the way to Point Z without ever having to consider Points B through Y. Over analyzation occurs when we need to reach Point C, and along the way from A we somehow invent not only Point B, but D, E, and F as well.

The problem lies in the subjective brain. Deducing contextual clues to reveal an understood truth requires logical links between greater social concepts, reality, and assumed plausibilities. The subjective brain, unfortunately for us, is only truly certain of the third [Author's Note: I've made a case for reality before -- Link!]. Reality and social concepts or norms are both equally important in processing, but for this discussion are irrelevant as they exist (albeit arguably) outside of the subjectivity of the individual. Assumed plausibilities are what we subjectively know to be true based on all of our previous experience in analyzing our surroundings. For instance, we know that if we insult someone, they will most likely get very mad at us. In maneuvering from the conceptual Point A to whatever conclusion it is that our minds reach, we rely on assumed plausibility for our navigation. It is important to remember that 'plausible' does not equal 'certain'. We can only guess at the reactions of a world outside of our own heads, and those guesses will vary as wildly as there are people on the planet. Over analyzation is the product of this: our brains making logical connections that may not or do not exist and the struggle with the conclusions that we reach based on them.

Of course the real dilemma is not the 'why' or 'how' of over analyzing the situations we experience; it's the 'what to do'. Some obsess about every word and action; every perceived slight or hidden meaning. These people find it hard to take anything at face value. Others simply take everything they perceive exactly as it is. These people are often labeled as 'gullible' or 'ignorant'. Each has its advantages. The former often sees the world shrewdly, and avoids the various complexities of assumption. The latter is often free of the constraints of being burdened with the knowledge that what one sees is not always what is true. Perhaps the real truth is that there is no easy solution when we find ourselves over analyzing something. To rely on basic presumptions can be almost foolish, while always presuming that things are not what they seem is equally so. Maybe we are all best served when acting according to instinct. Over analyzation is simply our instinctual reaction to that which we suspect is not simple. In the end it is best to believe in ourselves throughout, because it is true what many people say: When you believe in nothing, you will fall for anything.

The Unforeseen Fallibility of Adulthood.

When we are young we look up to the adults around us with a subconscious certainty that they perceive the world in a way that is inherently clearer than our own. Perhaps, we may have pondered, they are privy to some revelation about the way of things that children are not yet aware. Obviously I can only speak for myself, but I imagine many of us grow up with the expectation of discovering a moment of clarity and understanding of all the lingering questions we've accrued as we aged. Of course this one crystallizing moment rarely appears. The reality of the situation is that we reach a predetermined point in our lives and the title of "adult" is in some cases thrust upon us, leaving us no wiser and no more aware of the complexities of living than we were before. If being an adult subverts our lifelong expectations, how then do we define "adulthood" not just for ourselves but as a substantial and integral part of our lives?

It stands to reason that because the aforementioned expectations of becoming an "adult" can obviously vary from individual to individual, that the notion of being adult would manifest differently for everyone. The real question becomes what it is that we inevitably define as the aspects of ourselves that allow us to identify as "grown up"? One can imagine many things that would fit this purview, from the completion of our organizational education to the birth of our first child -- the list is vast but perhaps categorically symmetrical to the taking on of greater responsibility in the structure of civilization. Does this answer the question then? Are we adults in as much of the amount of responsibility we find ourselves tasked? Perhaps partially. While this fulfills to a degree the functional aspect of adulthood; the "omnipotent" nature we perceived as children needs to be reconciled to reality. It's fair to assume that aging and, congruently, being an adult bring with them the facets of greater knowledge in a general sense. Therefore perhaps it is proper to define "adulthood" as the sum total of our lifetime of experiences; be they emotional, practical or otherwise.

Using our 'experiences' to measure the proximity to being grown up is inherently a tricky proposition. Experience is, both transcendentally and practically, by nature a largely subjective thing. The weight, meaning, and amount of any given experience(s) will vary wildly depending on the individual and their unique perceptions. It follows then that adulthood itself is equally as nebulous in terms of explanation. Legally, of course, being an adult is a simple matter of time and/or age, but as a state of being is it not much more intangible? This entire writing thus far has gone to great lengths to elucidate the delusive nature of adulthood, so how then do we ever know that we are indeed adults?

To me the answer is choice. Adulthood is a title we either consciously assign to ourselves, or on some level we resign ourselves to being -- sometimes without even realizing we have. If indeed adulthood is a resultant of a choice, then by nature it is distinctly unlike being a child or adolescent. As children, we are thus by virtue of the fact we are physically small; incapable of taking care of ourselves; dependent. These are predominantly irreversible truths. As adolescents we are defined by our transient states. We are no longer children, yet we have not yet made the choice to be whatever comes next. Being an adult is the perpetual 'whatever comes next' -- a state so personally illusory that it proves hard to define. We are adults for the majority of our lives and yet we are as such for no other reason than we are not immediately anything else. This is precisely the cause of the wealth of misperceptions about adulthood when we are young: a fundamental lack of understanding as to the very nature of what it means to consider oneself "adult". Adulthood then is a personal representation for every individual the understanding and acceptance of their own metaphysical 'experiences' and the resulting choice to accept that evaluation as emblematic of one's entire self.

Being an adult is something that ends up being wholly unlike anything we ever expected growing up. Far from being a state in which we have discovered all the answers to life, it is more a sense of facing the world in acknowledgement of everything we've done before. Many struggle with the idea that they may be adults, and it is perfectly understandable to do so. Choosing to be an adult is not only an intense assessment of self, but the final affirmation of living in answer to oneself exclusively -- a realization that is in no small part daunting and enormous.

'If It Wasn't This... It'd Be Something Else': Lessons from Elizabethtown.

This post serves as both a movie review and a general musing on a number of subjects spurred by extremely late night and sleep-deprived thinkings. Plural. The movie Elizabethtown is a really awesomely fantastic piece of cinema. It stars both Kirsten Dunst and Orlando Bloom, and follows the story of Drew (Bloom) returning to his familial roots on the eve of his father's death and following a monumental professional failure on his part. Along the way he meets the quirky and unendingly optimistic Claire (Dunst) and he discovers the meaning of family, of connections, and most importantly the value of embracing and living life. Elizabethtown is a deeply flawed movie on many fronts, but it's a beautiful collision of imperfection that in and of itself is in fact perfect. Both Dunst and Bloom demonstrate a unique ability to completely miss the subtlety of their characters, yet somehow in those exact failures they create immensely entertaining people who, while in no way resembling real humans, serve as wonderful cyphers for bigger commentaries on the plot and life. I think it's the writing that goes a long way to salvage what I categorize as missteps in the lead performances. For instance, Drew is a decent guy who made a gigantic mistake and has screwy priorities. Orlando Bloom seems to lack the subtlety needed to portray externally a man who has been ruined professionally, has no real friends, and has recently lost a father whom he actually did care very much about. All of this is of course volleyed between his internal process and the shocks of being surrounded by a loving yet insane family (though 'loving' and 'insane' seem redundant when mentioning family). You never get the sense that Drew is experiencing any of this, yet you find yourself willingly filling in the blanks. Bloom succeeds in playing a man out of his comfort zone going with the punches for better or worse. Whether this is a result of Bloom having to ape an American accent (of which he ranks not the best but also not the worst -- see the Playstation 3 game Heavy Rain for the WORST American accents ever) or the fact that he's an Irishman in the American South is irrelevant. He's very likable, it works, and you relate. Kirsten Dunst on the other hand ends up making a character who seems like she should be at least mildly believable into the most cool, cute, and IMAGINARY figure in the movie. I think the main problem here is that Dunst plays Claire with absolutely no vulnerability -- something that in reality a person like Claire would be rife with. Still, you can't help but be drawn to her and find yourself smiling and wishing that a girl like that would come down from space on her unicorn (because she's imaginary) and set straight all of the issues in your life.

The most successful aspect of Elizabethtown is its overall tone. The film is dripping with the warmness of family and friends, the texture of the Southern States, the beautiful calamity of being lost in life and connecting with someone on a deep level, and the joy of being alive. Like almost every aspect of this movie, the tone succeeds despite itself. Elizabethtown begins as a bleak look into a man with nothing to lose's life. From here it feels like it does not know whether it intends to be dark comedy, slice-of-life storytelling, over-the-top pastiche, heartwarming, or revelatory. Despite this schizophrenia, the film again mashes into a wonderful canvas of emotion and confusion that while perhaps not narratively effective hearkens to a truly analogous version of how life can sometimes feel. This is all a fancy way of saying that I don't necessarily know why Elizabethtown resonates so resoundingly with me, but it certainly does. The movie is only helped by one of the most appropriate and effective soundtracks since Garden State. Seriously, go buy (download) it and take a drive somewhere. Beautiful.

The most charming thing Elizabethtown does is remain unendingly positive. It shows that even in the face of something as terrible as the death of a loved one, the ability to come together with the people you love and who love you is more powerful than any tragedy. And this is true both in life and this film. A family is a thing that surrounds you when you're hurt, and even though it can't necessarily heal you it allows you to be safe and deal with it all safe from the pressures of real life. It is paramount to what a family is in the first place that such safety can be found. A family is essentially a group of people who accept you on some level no matter what because you are part of them on a deeply personal (and sometimes biological) level. But just because some of the regular complications of human interaction are foregone does not mean that a family is any more personally together than anyone else. Instead it's a group of people bound together all of whom are trying their best to figure life out under the shared mandate of understanding each other. It's not always pretty and it doesn't always work, but the most rewarding thing to do sometimes is just bask in the chaos of it all and experience life together.

That's the last lesson to be gleaned from Elizabethtown; that being alive is easy, but that sometimes living is the hardest thing to do. This is why despite the fact that Claire seems oddly well-adjusted and above life's rigors, the viewer is drawn to someone who so fully and effortlessly rolls with the ebbs and flows of living. It may be that Claire represents how we'd all like to look at life -- as an experience full of sadness, joy, awkward moments, anger, and frustration; and that that's okay. People today get so caught up in the detours of life that we forget to stop and realize how much awesomeness there is all around us. On top of that, instead of ignoring our own inevitable mortality isn't it a lot more beneficial to embrace the fact that we only have a limited amount of time left to be alive? Though there is a looming sadness at the prospect that we are all going to die, the joy that can be extracted from every moment between now and then is magnified tenfold and we learn how to appreciate all of life's little subtleties all the more clearly. The solution is easy. Do what your heart feels, take a road trip and see the world, be reckless, make mistakes, apologize when you have to, face your fears, and never regret anything. Regrets in all of their hideous glory form parts of the tapestry of your life and while up close they serve not but to make you feel ashamed; like Elizabethtown is a movie, the moment you step back and take it all in as a chaotic but unified whole may just me the moment you remember what it's like to live and to have lived. Besides, if it wasn't this it would be something else.