The Problems of Psychology

We have in the midst of psychology . . . indeed, at the very center of its revolutions . . . an observation of disorder in the human mind. In contrast, we can only presume that there is some form of understanding, be it fallacious or not, of what constitutes order in a thing's being in the first place. Failing that, there could not be observation of disorder. It is not merely that I presuppose psychology has failed to fully and completely address the very issues that would allow for its own existence . . . it is that I can not admit with any degree of honesty that I see any kind of objective significance to its existence . . . that I perceive in it glaring assumptions with regards to the very nature of humanity . . . and that I fail, on every conceivable level to comprehend the meaningfulness of it beyond providing yet another way of attempting to define aspects of our being exceeding any sort of empirical tangibility whatsoever.

It is, therefore, my duty to provide a discourse of conflicting nature; because we persist in a world of opposites, and as long as one paradigm continues unabated, there must necessarily be an antithesis to such a perspective that must attempt to prove itself. While psychology has in recent centuries become such a standard that it encompasses the entire globe and all living languages with its vile, twisted, and presumptuous perceptions of reality, it does not need to continue without a meaningful attempt at disassembling.

The best method by which we can proceed, I gather, is by first attempting to understand by any means the meaning of Order and the meaning of Disorder within the constraints of being, or with regards to ontology. Because I believe it can be wholly agreed upon as mere axiom, we would have no mind if we were not being, and have no being if we had no mind. It follows that Order and Disorder in the psychological sense owe themselves entirely to ontology, or more specifically, to an underlying assumption that there is a standard, scalar, or average mode or form of being that allows for any kind of definitive attribution of the degree of Order or Disorder to occur. This, of course, is ludicrous by its very nature – I must as a human being operate under a great deal of assumptions with regards to the rest of my experiential world, up to and including the assumption that I am not the only thing being – and because of this, I have no choice but to accept that even though there appears to be observable phenomena produced by what appears to be other things being, I certainly have no way of knowing what constitutes the very being, or mental state, of those other things being. The architect knows how he must operate in a world of physical laws and physical phenomena to produce any kind of lasting structure – the psychologist can only observe phenomena that are the result of things being, the result of the beings of things being, but can never perceive the being of a thing's being itself. It is not unlike shadows on the wall, and any individual dipping into the realms of philosophy will immediately comprehend reference.

Thus it would appear that psychology, by its very nature, can not treat the condition – it appears that, instead, it can only treat the symptoms of the condition (of a thing's being) if it can treat at all.

I had a lot of dreams.

I really need to try and recap these as much as possible. But I need a smoke to do it...be right back.

Okay.

I'm going to roughly outline both and then fill them out, hopefully this will allow me to get as much out of them as possible, as I feel these dreams fading very quickly.

The first was in a world not so unlike that of Camelot. There was a point where the wars I was involved in flashed into modern for a moment, but that did not last long. I was what amounts to something like a Knight of the Round Table. I did not know my name. I imagine the modern flashing was a moment of my own aggression, but also coming to a kind of understanding between the two seemingly different worlds...after all, what's so different between a foot soldier and a marine?

It started out with this imagining of the perfect keep, given the right natural circumstances...on top of a large hill or flatted mountain, with deep rivers, almost ravine like running along either side of it...and the only path up between those rivers, gated at least three times at various points. I almost think I was some kind of architectural knight, but I digress. It is hard to remember much of this one, unfortunately - I do know that I fought a won a few vital battles for my people...other than that...I remember most vividly waking up from a dead sleep in a keep and having to use a hand axe to fight off invading undead orcs, who simply did not bleed or die in a fashion one would come to expect of orcs.

Flash to modern. But this is hardly worth talking about. It was in exactly the same keep as the prior one, except no Orcs...only people I once called friends (and maybe still do, in some cases.)

But then I was back to being a knight again. And there was a very fair lady...she had ebony black skin, and she too was a knight of nobility. She was as intelligent as she was beautiful, and powerful...devastatingly so...and I was escorting her, in a large wooden, wheeled, open wagon, drawn by horses. There was a kind of ogre as well, but he must have been a slave servant, or made the choice not to be like his kin and instead help humanity. It's the only way I can justify what he did as opposed to what was done by what we met in the wilderness.

Before we left on our sorrowful trip, for what reason we did I've no idea, there was a good deal of...well, you know. Intimate interaction. No, I don't think we had sex, but I don't really like that in my dreams anyway, and probably wouldn't discuss it anyway even if I did have it in my dreams. This woman was perfect for me, you see, in every way. This is probably just representative of my narcissistic tendencies from a psychological standpoint, but take it as you will. Personally I like to think that dreams happen in a collective.

But she had to go, and I had to follow her, because she was worth it. So we set off. Nightfall came quickly...it was nearly pitch dark by the time we managed to get stuck. I could hear horrifying sounds in the night, coming closer - orcs, goblins, ogres or large wolves - something of that nature - and I knew it. Our servant ogre managed to almost get us out by pushing, but there was a sudden sickening sound as he was about to finish and I knew he was dead.

She was not armored, and neither was I, and we had not brought a good deal of weaponry - besides, most of our supplies had been scattered when we got stuck (it must've been more of a crash) She lept from the wagon and tried to hold off the giant creature that was coming on us fast. I was screaming, "I need a SWORD! NOT a CROSSBOW!" I think the crossbow would have been a good idea, in retrospect.

I finally found a sword, lodged underneath a large pile of debris. It was in a cloth sheath - I quickly removed that - and found myself looking at a beautiful piece of art. It was a curved, vicious looking blade, long and certainly effective I thought. So I quickly went to the aid of my damsel in distress, and held the blade threateningly in the face of a monstrous Ogre that probably doubled my own substantial height.

He too had a sword.

He swung, I parried. I feinted, he dodged, and as he swung again I brought my weapon up and slashed clean through half of his forearm horizontally. But the weapon didn't drop, surprisingly. More undead, I figure.

A few more moments passed before my next opportunity to safely enter his reach came about. When it did, I slashed through a greater portion of his neck. He still didn't fall.

This is where things get fuzzy - damn it for not being the last dream, but then, it didn't have any significant metaphors like the last one did. Something happened to her - I don't think the monster killer her, but she definitely was nowhere to be found at that moment. I turned and ran for the crossbow.

The end.

The second was modern - and essentially a partial extension of my own existence (there is a good deal of separation between this and the former dreams) and had some interesting people, and revolved mainly around my immediate family, and my aunt and uncle whom I'm very close to. This one had the most striking events, unbelievably so, and also a powerful metaphor at the end...it was like God was talking to me directly, I swear, through an african american I at first thought was a man (strange, isn't it?) or maybe he was a man...and he had a boyfriend, and it's just rather easier that I assume everyone is heterosexual. I should note it seems that in any given dream where there was a powerful message that feels necessary to remember, it always appears at the very -end- of all dreams, and I awake immediately from that - or was already awakening at those moments - and often times knew I was. They argue dreams don't occur right before waking up...personally, I will note, they can't read minds and brain wave activity isn't indicative of anything other than brain waves until they can turn it into a video/audio/text readout of what occurred in those dreams at those times, and have the individual verify it. I digress.

This particular dream started at a trailer of my aunt and uncle's. They used to live in one, a long while ago, before they started doing very well for themselves - but this was a trailer in a park much like the one M and C live in. A good deal of the family was there, and we were all meeting a famous comedian from Germany. Somewhat of an irrelevant aspect, but he plays a part in this. He's giving out shirts and the like, ones already set up to be framed and hung somewhere eternally as a tribute to his own existence. Somewhat pretentious, now that I think about it.

Well, at some point I manage to tip the trailer over as we're all in a second floor. This had a somewhat ridiculous way of happening - I fell on my back and my legs went flying up and over me to smack the side of the trailer, which resulted in it rocking and a moment of shock as everyone tried to counterbalance as it began to teeter more and more. I watched in horror as I realized I was underneath a massive china cabinet that, I knew, would shatter completely and send its tiny projectiles flying into me and everyone else. I moved to the left. Others were not so lucky.

The trailer toppled over, it smacked my mother head on and managed to get my father as well...everyone else seemed to get out of it unscathed. I was showered in pieces of glass but with no observable or sensible damage, I decided to see if everyone else was okay. My mother was unconscious - I went over to her and started trying to snap her out of it. Dad was getting up, more or less okay, but seemed eerily uninterested in my mother's condition. This entire fiasco is telling of circumstances lately back in reality, but I digress.

Well, the comedian decides to leave (I don't blame him) and I'm thoroughly embarrassed...my uncle tries to console me by saying that some car of some kind whizzed the alleyway in between causing the trailer to tip...but I knew better.

Well, my mother ended up being unscathed as well, but I made sure to tell her if she had any more random unconscious episodes that she needed to see a doctor.

But we all leave with the comedian in what was considered an "airbus" - which was just a car that fit roughly the same number of people as an SUV. It floated, I assume that must account for it being an airbus.

We arrive at a large celebration. I think it was an African American holiday. The comedian was racist. A large group of those celebrating (and therefore, they were all African American) were waiting where we stopped...one of them likely a valet of some kind, because I watched the white, german comedian drop a few coins into the cup, and then, infuriatingly so, throw a bunch onto the ground as if he were giving alms to the poor. But they weren't poor, and I don't think they were very appreciative.

I wander off at this point, and never reconnect with my family or the comedian. I spent a little while trying to find them, but eventually gave up, for the most part. I found myself in a large fair. I'll spare the details...or maybe I won't. But this will be painstaking.

I was running along these roadways designed for runners in the fair. They were brightly colored, flashing...seemingly plastic, but my bare feet held good grip for some reason. After a great number of these roadways, each designed slightly differently but just as striking as the last, I found myself at a water slide - which I managed to get myself out of (I have the feeling I was stuck on those roadways and looking for a way outside of them.)

But when I get out, I realize that I have no money to use a phone. Well...I turn around to the lady or man, whichever, who helped me out. And I say, "I've no money...do you have a couple coins you could spare?" And she/he says, "Yes, take all of it." And hands me a massive chunk of change which is immediately pocketed. I thank him/her and start walking away...but as I'm rummaging through my pockets, I realize she/he gave me some kind of bill as well - I pull it out, and I look at it for a moment...it looks like a TAROT CARD only for some reason I still think it's a bill, or at least, think it has some kind of value to him/her...so I take it back.

She/he grabs it from me and says, "Do you know what this is?" and I open my mouth to speak, but suddenly it changes from this tarot card into something else. She/he says, "This is a picture, signed by so-and-so - a famous baseball player. I swear he worked at a Sheetz, just like my boyfriend whom I love very much. But he used to talk about how it seemed like he would meet the strangest of people at the strangest of times." Then she continues, "Sometimes you get help from complete strangers, and you are supposed to get help from them."

The dream ends there. I wake up. I go and look through a graphical listing of tarot cards.

The tarot card was The Tower. "Because of circumstances beyond your control, you have no choice."

The Justification for Expenditure

One of the synths I use went from $199 (when I bought it sometime around August) to $149.

$199 is less than a PS3 or XBOX360, less than four games for either of those systems, and less than four games for PC (for that matter.)

Because I've spent such a great deal of time using this particular synth (and the other two I purchased simultaneously), I can't really say it was a bad investment...and there's an alternative benefit.

While a game, or console I can see only as a somewhat selfish investment, the amount of time other people spend listening or thinking about what I've done with those synths should count as a kind of counter balance as well. The same can't be said so easily for gaming.

So maybe I didn't choose such a bad pass time after all.

I'm actually rather glad to see it is still priced that highly. That means it's still competitive in the market...a 25% drop in price over more than half a year (it was out long before I bought it) bodes pretty well for the makers of it.