Some people with high functioning ASD have difficulty understanding others’ emotions and hence understanding empathy. Hence selection for them in spaces were use of terms such as “inferior extensor retinaculum,” is okay.
Since there is not so clear a distinction between own emotions and others’ emotions, it should be expected that these people also have difficulty understanding their own emotions and understanding empathy in relation to themselves.
This sometimes leads to Shinji Ikari’s. Young men who do not want to pilot the EVA, i.e., cooperate with arbitrary demands of society, becoming generally cowardly and/or depressed.
Some people speak of group therapy as a potentially effective form of treatment for people with Schizoid personality disorder. I ask them to consider a status quo reversal. What if the majority of humans were “schizoid” and the “non-schizoid” were treated with alone therapy.
The intent is not to side with particular tribes. I’m just fantasizing about being a director who crafts his characters with great care and celebrates their unique traits.
Though perhaps I should stop perhaps-ing; stop “if only”-ing. Since on average, I tend to underestimate my capacity to achieve things.
Learn a new programming language while handling a sped up course of college mathematics, all the while having no friends to impress and hence scarce “signaling fuel.” And do this immediately after resurrection.
Sounds difficult when you put it that way. But I did it.
Convince adults to give you thousands of dollars of their hard earned money to manage as a sixteen-year-old kid.
This one sounds particularly unreal to me because I am so introverted. And yet I did it. In real life. I did it. I have positive proof of my capacity to influence humans.
Luckily, I can always reach back to the mental sticky note containing that one experiment, in which students who’d scored in the lowest quartile on a test adapted from the LSAT overestimated the number of questions they’d gotten right by nearly 50%. Meanwhile, those who’d scored in the top quartile slightly underestimated how many questions they’d gotten right.
That is probably just an act of packing a motivational item in the toolkit for the ride; redressing with pretty colors one of those pre-loaded kinds of vectors that push us.
But this is is understandable. My hedonic tone and general take on life become murderous when deprived of freedom. This happened to me when I was in high school and also when I took some courses at the local college. When I can help it, I counter-signal being nonchalant. But my rectitude of will eventually snaps, my posture crouches, and I get tunnel vision.
To test this, I placed myself inside a normal person job, delivering packets, and the same thing happened. At first, I was quite nice to the guy training me and found the workout somewhat fun, but by the fifth hour of mindless repetition with no possible exit, the INTJ death-stare was full force.
At first he liked me, smiling a lot and saying “You’re not like the others I’ve trained. You’re fast.”
But when my mood swung at the halfway mark, the poor guy no longer spoke to me. Except to nervously ask me if I was okay at one point.
This is why I need a Goddess figure in my mind, and frequently used it as a recourse in my most painfully focused lapses. Since I didn’t like any of the “real” girls in high school one bit, I just focused on the apex ideal for counter-signalers who dream of space as children and enjoy animation exclusive to Nippon, usually taking the form of the perceived exotic – a mixed-race or Asian. In my case it was a mixed-race.
There is evidence of the civilizing effect of woman on man. Among other things, single men commit more violent crimes and take more risk in general. However, I resent how uninteresting this sort of relationship is. After all, there are many experiences far more interesting than mere sexual attraction and intercourse. Cumming inside a beautiful person is just one pixel in the spectra of all enjoyable experiences.
Hence why I kind of have to force myself to desire the ideal woman. It’s really more of a strategy to get stuff done.
It’s like my mind is one of those hybrid orbitals, not just in the real sense of macroscopic decoherence, but also in the metaphorico-poetic sense of being two kinds of things at once. I want to kill Asuka. To strangle her so that she can just leave me alone; ask nothing from me; leave me with no responsibility to be a self. At the same time I need the aspiration to kiss her so that I have something to live for in the hellish times.
…And that’s way more romantic than what my head actually sounds like, but I tried, tried to stir something. Didn’t work. I’m going to bed now. Tomorrow will be a long day for my foes.