I told the therapist this. Instead of locking me up for delusions of grandeur, she said, "Well, let's work together until you feel that sense again." We did, and I stopped therapy when I told her it wasn't just back, it was talking loud enough to hear. That was how I knew I was no longer depressed, and how I figured out the meaning of life.
Full Version: Introspection
I saw a therapist after my dad died, too. It may does sound weird, but at the time (I was in my twenties), I had had, for the longest time, a sense that the secret of life was hovering just outside the edge of my consciousness. I could hear it being whispered, but couldn't make out the words, and I knew if I could just make the whole world be quiet for a minute I could hear it clearly. Of course the world never is quiet -- there are always jobs, bills, chores, friends, entertainment, etc., the daily business of living. At any rate, I only realized I was depressed and sought therapy when I realized that that sense of the secret of life being just out of reach had gone away. I hadn't heard a whisper or seen a glimmer in a long time, because it was far away from me instead of nearby, and that was my internal cue that I was depressed.
I told the therapist this. Instead of locking me up for delusions of grandeur, she said, "Well, let's work together until you feel that sense again." We did, and I stopped therapy when I told her it wasn't just back, it was talking loud enough to hear. That was how I knew I was no longer depressed, and how I figured out the meaning of life.
I told the therapist this. Instead of locking me up for delusions of grandeur, she said, "Well, let's work together until you feel that sense again." We did, and I stopped therapy when I told her it wasn't just back, it was talking loud enough to hear. That was how I knew I was no longer depressed, and how I figured out the meaning of life.
I'm going again tomorrow and am looking forward to it...
When you find out the secret of life, let us know.
.
QUOTE (strategy @ Tuesday, December 15th, 2009, 12:10 AM) 
SB, I feel awkward PMing you about this, but just out of curiosity...
I have a buddy who's graduating in six months with a mind to start a career in grant writing. scale of 1-10, 10 being most fucked, how fucked is he as far as finding a job?
I have a buddy who's graduating in six months with a mind to start a career in grant writing. scale of 1-10, 10 being most fucked, how fucked is he as far as finding a job?
A five or so. On the one hand, non-profits are dying now. Nobody's able to hire, so he may have a hard time landing his first job. On the other hand, his job will more than pay for itself, and everyone needs someone who can bring in money. If he finds a place that has the money to hire, then he'll be fine as long as that non-profit keeps its head above water.
As for me, I raised $1.5 million in three years, which in rural Virginia is a damn decent amount, and I was paid $28,000 a year for most of that time. But the non-profit I worked for spent money unwisely in other areas and wound up being unable to make payroll, which is how they wound up laying off someone who brought in an average of twenty times her own salary a year.
I still run into a lot of people who can't grasp that they would lay off one of their single most profitable employees (maybe the single most profitable). Most days, I can't grasp it either. But that's how they ran themselves.
QUOTE (Southern Buddhist @ Tuesday, December 15th, 2009, 12:23 AM)
A five or so. On the one hand, non-profits are dying now. Nobody's able to hire, so he may have a hard time landing his first job. On the other hand, his job will more than pay for itself, and everyone needs someone who can bring in money. If he finds a place that has the money to hire, then he'll be fine as long as that non-profit keeps its head above water.
As for me, I raised $1.5 million in three years, which in rural Virginia is a damn decent amount, and I was paid $28,000 a year for most of that time. But the non-profit I worked for spent money unwisely in other areas and wound up being unable to make payroll, which is how they wound up laying off someone who brought in an average of twenty times her own salary a year.
I still run into a lot of people who can't grasp that they would lay off one of their single most profitable employees (maybe the single most profitable). Most days, I can't grasp it either. But that's how they ran themselves.
As for me, I raised $1.5 million in three years, which in rural Virginia is a damn decent amount, and I was paid $28,000 a year for most of that time. But the non-profit I worked for spent money unwisely in other areas and wound up being unable to make payroll, which is how they wound up laying off someone who brought in an average of twenty times her own salary a year.
I still run into a lot of people who can't grasp that they would lay off one of their single most profitable employees (maybe the single most profitable). Most days, I can't grasp it either. But that's how they ran themselves.
As an accountant I can assure you that np's make some of the worst spending decisions of anyone. Your case is a prime example. The phrase "penny wise, pound foolish" was written for np's. that's not to say theyre not valuable organizations. just run by people who don't understand wise investment.
.
QUOTE (strategy @ Tuesday, December 15th, 2009, 12:40 AM)
Are you going to get back into it? I (obviously) already knew your profession but that salary figure still surprises me.
I'm sure my friend will be fine; his wife/girlfriend/thing has a degree that can pull some coin. It just came as a shock to me to find out that Mr. Pothead Psychology Major had settled on grant writing.
I'm sure my friend will be fine; his wife/girlfriend/thing has a degree that can pull some coin. It just came as a shock to me to find out that Mr. Pothead Psychology Major had settled on grant writing.
I was laid off by a Shakespeare theatre and I'm going to grad school to become a Shakespeare scholar. So yes, I'm getting back into it, but no, I'm going to try to avoid grant writing. It's nice to make a career by writing, but I'd like to eat something besides Poverty Chow now and then.
That is the nature of non-profits, though. Low pay is the norm. Mind you, that was ridiculously low pay. I was offered twice as much to work for Monticello. I turned it down because I was in the middle of writing my book and Monticello looked to be a 60-hour-a-week job, plus hour commute each way. I did make the theatre come up closer to Monticello's offer to keep me, but eh, if I could have seen the future...
.
QUOTE (strategy @ Tuesday, December 15th, 2009, 1:45 AM)
What would you do specifically with your Shakespeare credentials?
I should be careful not to pass judgment on what you were getting paid. My school's recruiting material said the average salary for my degree was $60k a few years ago. I was silly enough to believe it. A quick look now confirms a more realistic outlook.
I should be careful not to pass judgment on what you were getting paid. My school's recruiting material said the average salary for my degree was $60k a few years ago. I was silly enough to believe it. A quick look now confirms a more realistic outlook.
Oh, it's quite all right to think I was getting paid shit. I was. I take no offense from someone recognizing reality.
In rural Virginia, you can live on that pay, or only a little more.Don't mind me if I rhapsodize a bit here. I'm tremendously excited about grad school. I want to work with the source materials Shakespeare used. This is what I said in my Harvard application essay:
QUOTE
When scholars wish to discuss the source materials in Shakespeare, they have two options. One is to gain access to archives in Britain and carefully examine a priceless early modern book. The other option is to quote from Geoffrey Bullough's eight-volume Narrative and Dramatic Sources of Shakespeare, which dates from the 1950s. Although some of the source material is widely available today, such as Ovid's Metamorphoses and of course the Bible, the specific translations and editions that Shakespeare used are quite rare.
I strongly believe that every scholar should have on his shelf as many as possible of the same books that Shakespeare read. That means that I want to re-publish the Bishop's Bible, North's translation of Ovid, Holinshed's Chronicles, the 1580s editions of the English Psalter, and other Shakespeare sources. The more I read of Shakespeare scholarship, the more it became clear to me that scholars were quoting other scholars when it came to source material -- that is to say, they had not read the material themselves. That is a serious gap in our understanding of Shakespeare, and one that can be readily corrected.
This is the kind of goal to which a scholar dedicates not only his or her study, but his or her life, and it is the goal to which I have dedicated mine. To re-publish Shakespeare's own library as far as possible is a matter of fifty books at most, some of which are already available. That is perhaps more than one scholar's lifetime work, but it is an imminently achievable goal, and one that is unquestionably worthy of achievement.
We cannot look over Shakespeare's shoulder at the moment of creation. We do not know precisely how, when, or where he wrote. He may have written in a corner of the Globe, in pubs, in his rented rooms in London, at home in Stratford, or all of the above. We cannot sit beside him at the moment of rehearsal, when lines or even entire scenes may have been changed with the input of his actors. But, with his library at our fingertips, we can look over his shoulder at the moment of inspiration. We can see the moment in the source material where he said, "This would make a good play."
Almost as important, we can see far more than simply the moment of inspiration. We can also see something that is currently unavailable to us in Bullough -- all the material that Shakespeare read but rejected. Knowing more about this opens whole new areas for Shakespeare scholarship and criticism. Lastly, some 80% of early modern plays are known to us only by their titles, the texts having been lost. Assuming that other contemporary authors were using approximately the same source materials, we may be able to piece together more information about this vast body of missing work.
I intend to write my Ph.D. dissertation on Shakespeare's sources and the feasibility of re-publishing them, and I hope that leads directly to my lifetime goal, giving scholars access to a new library of Shakespeare's sources, possibly published by Harvard.
The American Shakespeare Center built a playhouse that had been lost to time for 400 years. Standing on its stage, I understood how having an original setting galvanizes our critical and scholarly minds. I have seen insights into performance that arguably could not have happened elsewhere. With my Ph.D. project, I want to begin rebuilding something else that has been unavailable for 400 years -- the very books that inspired Shakespeare, to be made available for every scholar's bookshelf.
I strongly believe that every scholar should have on his shelf as many as possible of the same books that Shakespeare read. That means that I want to re-publish the Bishop's Bible, North's translation of Ovid, Holinshed's Chronicles, the 1580s editions of the English Psalter, and other Shakespeare sources. The more I read of Shakespeare scholarship, the more it became clear to me that scholars were quoting other scholars when it came to source material -- that is to say, they had not read the material themselves. That is a serious gap in our understanding of Shakespeare, and one that can be readily corrected.
This is the kind of goal to which a scholar dedicates not only his or her study, but his or her life, and it is the goal to which I have dedicated mine. To re-publish Shakespeare's own library as far as possible is a matter of fifty books at most, some of which are already available. That is perhaps more than one scholar's lifetime work, but it is an imminently achievable goal, and one that is unquestionably worthy of achievement.
We cannot look over Shakespeare's shoulder at the moment of creation. We do not know precisely how, when, or where he wrote. He may have written in a corner of the Globe, in pubs, in his rented rooms in London, at home in Stratford, or all of the above. We cannot sit beside him at the moment of rehearsal, when lines or even entire scenes may have been changed with the input of his actors. But, with his library at our fingertips, we can look over his shoulder at the moment of inspiration. We can see the moment in the source material where he said, "This would make a good play."
Almost as important, we can see far more than simply the moment of inspiration. We can also see something that is currently unavailable to us in Bullough -- all the material that Shakespeare read but rejected. Knowing more about this opens whole new areas for Shakespeare scholarship and criticism. Lastly, some 80% of early modern plays are known to us only by their titles, the texts having been lost. Assuming that other contemporary authors were using approximately the same source materials, we may be able to piece together more information about this vast body of missing work.
I intend to write my Ph.D. dissertation on Shakespeare's sources and the feasibility of re-publishing them, and I hope that leads directly to my lifetime goal, giving scholars access to a new library of Shakespeare's sources, possibly published by Harvard.
The American Shakespeare Center built a playhouse that had been lost to time for 400 years. Standing on its stage, I understood how having an original setting galvanizes our critical and scholarly minds. I have seen insights into performance that arguably could not have happened elsewhere. With my Ph.D. project, I want to begin rebuilding something else that has been unavailable for 400 years -- the very books that inspired Shakespeare, to be made available for every scholar's bookshelf.
That's the long answer, of course (aren't you glad I didn't say, "that's the short answer"?). To be completely immodest, it's gotten the scholars I've spoken to fairly excited. It's hugely ambitious, but it promises whole new areas of research. Most scholars have never directly held a Shakespeare source in their hands, and the possibility that they could own his whole library is exciting.
The short answer is most likely, I'll teach. UNLV actually has a pretty strong Shakespeare curriculum. Maybe I could combine love of poker and love of Shakespeare and teach there someday.
.
QUOTE (HiN8s @ Tuesday, December 15th, 2009, 12:28 AM)
As an accountant I can assure you that np's make some of the worst spending decisions of anyone. Your case is a prime example. The phrase "penny wise, pound foolish" was written for np's. that's not to say theyre not valuable organizations. just run by people who don't understand wise investment.
They're generally run by artists, who are insane and have huge egos. At least the one I worked for was. Actually, my college was founded by hippies (ur-hippies; Beats, I guess) in 1960. It was a visionary school that attracted brilliant misfits. Of course, it was run by hippies and within a decade or so went belly-up. Luckily, the state of Florida came to the rescue and the school (New College) survived as the honors college of the state of Florida. So I've seen a few visionary institutions done in or nearly done in by the very things that made them visionary (namely, their founders).
QUOTE (strategy @ Tuesday, December 15th, 2009, 9:53 PM)
How many years of school would it take?
I can't fathom that versions of books from his day still exist. I wonder how material like the kind you're seeking was preserved during WWII, for instance.
I can't fathom that versions of books from his day still exist. I wonder how material like the kind you're seeking was preserved during WWII, for instance.
I think I should have my masters in two year and a Ph.D. in five or so.
Astonishingly, all the books I refer to still exist. The Bodleian Libarary at Oxford, libraries at Cambridge, and the British Museum all have outstanding collections of antique books. Oxford and Cambridge came through the war (all the wars over the past few centuries) unscathed, and the British Museum suffered no major losses during WWII (through some superhuman efforts by curators to move the collection out of danger).
Obviously, not the very copies that Shakespeare owned, but multiple copies owned by others and kept in family libraries in castles, bequeathed to museums and libraries when the descendants can no longer keep the castle up. In fact, there are no less than 230 surviving original copies of Shakespeare's Folio, 75 of them in the collection of the Folger Library in Washington, DC. There are dozens of Bishop's bibles, at least 300 original copies of the Geneva bible, and so on.
It's not that the books are no longer around. They're around; they're just all originals, and most scholars don't have access to them. That's what I want to change. I want them in paperback, so you can mark up the text, make margin notes, flag pages, take it to the can and read it, etc.
I have few acquaintances- even fewer friends. This is by design.
Those few "friends" that I do have are all dumber than I am, but they posses qualities that I do not have and often times, I envy those qualities.
I've always thought that people who sought out professional "therapists" did so because they were surrounded by people who lied to them. This is the unfortunate case with most people; they're surrounded by liars and that ethos has become so common in their lives, they actually become oblivious to the lying that's going on. Most people couldn't find someone to tell them the stark, honest truth if they tried, so, they have to oursource objectivity in the form of a therapist.
The few remaining white Southsiders are all largely blue-collar, shot-and-a-beer drinking, swearing, clever and ingenious but not "intellectual" sorts of people. The cultural line that exists between the north and south sides is probably one of the most stark you'll ever encounter. I have a few "northside" friends, but most are southsiders. Lifers. I work at the mill, Dad worked at the mill, Grandpa worked at the mill... I'm a cop, Dad was a cop, grandpa was a cop... you get the idea.
Some time back, I was feeling blue. It was one of the first times in my life that I wasn't able to resolve the questions I had into an answer that would let me proceed. This was the closest I've ever been to seeking out the council of a therapist, but before I did, I decided to seek the council of those closest to me; my friends.
My northside friends- in spite of not knowing each other- all gave precisely same answers, as if it were a programmed response. Usually rooted in some larger concept of "optimism" straight out of a Tony Robbins routine, there was no question I wasn't being told what I needed to hear. Their "refined social graces" prevented that. They lied so effortlessly and instinctively that even they were unaware they were doing it.
My southside friends took a different tack. To them, all problems can be reduced to a simple solution; "fucking deal with it, then get the hell over it" - (then, they mock you and probably call you a fag)
I soon realized that of the two groups, one was right while the other- who fancied itself much more "intelligent" and "sophisticated"- wasn't worth shit. They live their lives hopping from cloud to cloud, delusion to delusion, offering to those around them only that which is "socially acceptable", then singing an entirely different tune behind closed doors.
This is entirely a function of culture, and this is why your more well-to-do, white collar people (or people who are apt to operating in those environs) are prone to neuroticism, confusion and general sadness. It's what happens when your entire world is predicated on lies. It's what happens when every scintilla of communication that you give to the world and receive from the world is so strained, filtered and contorted, the only thing you can do is log it away in the file for future deconstruction, hoping that eventually, you might be able to decipher something resembling an honest meaning. Eventually, that file overloads and shits itself all over your day-to-day psyche and before you know it, you're breaking down.
It's the crushing weight of lies, like a millstone hung around your soul.
Surround yourself with people who don't lie to you and this will right itself, but be prepared to make some concessions. People who won't lie to you usually don't lie to themselves, either, so chances are, everything you've come to "believe" - being a product of the mendacious rat race- probably won't jive with them.
Those few "friends" that I do have are all dumber than I am, but they posses qualities that I do not have and often times, I envy those qualities.
I've always thought that people who sought out professional "therapists" did so because they were surrounded by people who lied to them. This is the unfortunate case with most people; they're surrounded by liars and that ethos has become so common in their lives, they actually become oblivious to the lying that's going on. Most people couldn't find someone to tell them the stark, honest truth if they tried, so, they have to oursource objectivity in the form of a therapist.
The few remaining white Southsiders are all largely blue-collar, shot-and-a-beer drinking, swearing, clever and ingenious but not "intellectual" sorts of people. The cultural line that exists between the north and south sides is probably one of the most stark you'll ever encounter. I have a few "northside" friends, but most are southsiders. Lifers. I work at the mill, Dad worked at the mill, Grandpa worked at the mill... I'm a cop, Dad was a cop, grandpa was a cop... you get the idea.
Some time back, I was feeling blue. It was one of the first times in my life that I wasn't able to resolve the questions I had into an answer that would let me proceed. This was the closest I've ever been to seeking out the council of a therapist, but before I did, I decided to seek the council of those closest to me; my friends.
My northside friends- in spite of not knowing each other- all gave precisely same answers, as if it were a programmed response. Usually rooted in some larger concept of "optimism" straight out of a Tony Robbins routine, there was no question I wasn't being told what I needed to hear. Their "refined social graces" prevented that. They lied so effortlessly and instinctively that even they were unaware they were doing it.
My southside friends took a different tack. To them, all problems can be reduced to a simple solution; "fucking deal with it, then get the hell over it" - (then, they mock you and probably call you a fag)
I soon realized that of the two groups, one was right while the other- who fancied itself much more "intelligent" and "sophisticated"- wasn't worth shit. They live their lives hopping from cloud to cloud, delusion to delusion, offering to those around them only that which is "socially acceptable", then singing an entirely different tune behind closed doors.
This is entirely a function of culture, and this is why your more well-to-do, white collar people (or people who are apt to operating in those environs) are prone to neuroticism, confusion and general sadness. It's what happens when your entire world is predicated on lies. It's what happens when every scintilla of communication that you give to the world and receive from the world is so strained, filtered and contorted, the only thing you can do is log it away in the file for future deconstruction, hoping that eventually, you might be able to decipher something resembling an honest meaning. Eventually, that file overloads and shits itself all over your day-to-day psyche and before you know it, you're breaking down.
It's the crushing weight of lies, like a millstone hung around your soul.
Surround yourself with people who don't lie to you and this will right itself, but be prepared to make some concessions. People who won't lie to you usually don't lie to themselves, either, so chances are, everything you've come to "believe" - being a product of the mendacious rat race- probably won't jive with them.
QUOTE (Southern Buddhist @ Tuesday, December 15th, 2009, 4:34 PM)
Oh, it's quite all right to think I was getting paid shit. I was. I take no offense from someone recognizing reality. In rural Virginia, you can live on that pay, or only a little more.
Don't mind me if I rhapsodize a bit here. I'm tremendously excited about grad school. I want to work with the source materials Shakespeare used. This is what I said in my Harvard application essay:
That's the long answer, of course (aren't you glad I didn't say, "that's the short answer"?). To be completely immodest, it's gotten the scholars I've spoken to fairly excited. It's hugely ambitious, but it promises whole new areas of research. Most scholars have never directly held a Shakespeare source in their hands, and the possibility that they could own his whole library is exciting.
The short answer is most likely, I'll teach. UNLV actually has a pretty strong Shakespeare curriculum. Maybe I could combine love of poker and love of Shakespeare and teach there someday.
In rural Virginia, you can live on that pay, or only a little more.Don't mind me if I rhapsodize a bit here. I'm tremendously excited about grad school. I want to work with the source materials Shakespeare used. This is what I said in my Harvard application essay:
That's the long answer, of course (aren't you glad I didn't say, "that's the short answer"?). To be completely immodest, it's gotten the scholars I've spoken to fairly excited. It's hugely ambitious, but it promises whole new areas of research. Most scholars have never directly held a Shakespeare source in their hands, and the possibility that they could own his whole library is exciting.
The short answer is most likely, I'll teach. UNLV actually has a pretty strong Shakespeare curriculum. Maybe I could combine love of poker and love of Shakespeare and teach there someday.
Where are you going to grad school?
I appreciate your honesty here, but I married into one of those southside-type families -- third-generation jobs and all. Don't get me wrong ... I love them and they are good people. But they also came from abusive backgrounds ("a good beating will fix what ails you") and while they have three generations working blue-collar jobs for the same large entity, they have at least four generations (and counting) of devastating alcoholism. They look down on my husband for taking anti-depressants and seeing a therapist (that's a sign of weakness), but they can't face the day without a drunken haze standing permanently between them and their lives.
Your northside-type friends believe that humanity in general and they in particular can always learn to be a little better. You can call it a delusion, but I've seen it happen. I've seen cycles of abuse (including sexual abuse), alcoholism, drug use, and domestic violence passed down from generation to generation in families who didn't believe in therapy, and I've seen the same cycles broken and ended once and for all, by people who did accept the help of a therapist to process what they'd gone through.
I'm not speaking abstractly when I say I've seen this. My sister took in 17 foster kids over the years. I've seen some who scoffed at therapy. Now they mostly have criminal records, they all have children themselves, and all their kids -- yes, all -- have been in and out of the foster care system themselves. Another of those kids, one who had suffered really horrible abuse, took therapy very seriously and worked hard at "getting all the junk out of me," as he put it. He and his wife have white-collar jobs, their own home, and three beautiful, safe, healthy little girls.
As often as not, therapy is just a case of a professional listener giving you a place to put your thoughts out in the open, put them together, map out where you want to be, and how to get there.
Your northside-type friends believe that humanity in general and they in particular can always learn to be a little better. You can call it a delusion, but I've seen it happen. I've seen cycles of abuse (including sexual abuse), alcoholism, drug use, and domestic violence passed down from generation to generation in families who didn't believe in therapy, and I've seen the same cycles broken and ended once and for all, by people who did accept the help of a therapist to process what they'd gone through.
I'm not speaking abstractly when I say I've seen this. My sister took in 17 foster kids over the years. I've seen some who scoffed at therapy. Now they mostly have criminal records, they all have children themselves, and all their kids -- yes, all -- have been in and out of the foster care system themselves. Another of those kids, one who had suffered really horrible abuse, took therapy very seriously and worked hard at "getting all the junk out of me," as he put it. He and his wife have white-collar jobs, their own home, and three beautiful, safe, healthy little girls.
As often as not, therapy is just a case of a professional listener giving you a place to put your thoughts out in the open, put them together, map out where you want to be, and how to get there.
QUOTE (brvheart @ Wednesday, December 16th, 2009, 2:29 AM)
Where are you going to grad school?
I'm applying to Harvard (to work with Stephen Greenblatt) and right here in Staunton to Mary Baldwin College. Mary Baldwin has, in conjunction with the theatre that laid me off, a masters program in Shakespeare. Harvard has two highly regarded Shakespeare scholars, Stephen Greenblatt and Marjorie Garber. The theatre here held a lot of scholarly conferences. I got to be pretty well acquainted with the world of Shakespeare scholars, so I only applied to places that had a specific scholar with whom I wanted to work.
I like the fact that not only do two people as different as SB and Scram exist, but they are able to civilly and constructively converse. The world sometimes amazes me.
This is a "lo-fi" version of our main content. To view the full version with more information, formatting and images, please click here.