Archive for the ‘ Rambling ’ Category

The insular octopus

Through the sand, they dug and dug. They found a new world, orange and green. Flying fish glided in the air, and the giant octopus guarded the city. In its tentacles were the vulcanoes, smoking, smoking deeply and sighing noir words.

The city it brought on its back was idyllic, roads and fields sprinkled through the landscape with a residual population. The train tunneled through the invertebrate’s eyes and made way to the ocean, passing by submerse skyscrapers. Some who were lucky could provide oxygen for their plants, merrily located in the terraces of the now gloomy buildings. Most of them had orange trees and benches near platanuses. Some wisterias cascaded down structural beams, converging in complex aerial shrubs of purple, violet and white which apart from the spectacle provided shade. Orcas wandered through erstwhile avenues, dolphins invaded sunken apartment complexes, sharks bid their time in old stops.  Far away a caravel, with a symbol of the crusades in the mast, but much less threatening since it was now reduced to a mere anachronism. North of the octopus were ancient mountains, with waterfalls and cozy white peaks. Further down, wineyards that would wield sufficient wine to celebrate the end of the world. Everything looked perfect, people proceeded with their cruise-controlled lives in the village, cutting down trees to light fires. The villagers would piously pray in the church every day, begging the volcanoes not to spill and render the creature motionless. There were yet some other denizens who had escaped the aquatic disaster twenty years past, who were resourceful enough to gather patches of plants and earth from the wandering octopus and created farms in the terraces. Some blocks were endowed with planks, to make use of the adjacent sea – even though the sharks were cursed with eternal hunger. The “terrace-dwellers” would make use of crude boats to reach other platforms and there make use of the space.

Their daily life almost resembled a stasis, a niche of stillness that contrasted with the perpetual motion of the octopus, until the day of the vulcanic spill. It was dawn and the mollusc was in motion – which, proportionally to the size of the island, was fairly slow, about 40 kilometers per hour – and its visibility was negligent because of a high atmospheric humidity, yet the conditions seemed fit to keep on walking through the blue infinity. A great green shadow popped in the horizon, and what was seemingly a little hill soon grew into a gargantuan mass of land. The octopus little time had to evade it, and in a self-defense maneuver jerked the tentacle upwards to avoid an imminent collision. Sadly, the cephaloid’s logic was abstruse and the smoking red ink spilled over the iddylic landscape and charred most of it. The lava soon drained to the ocean, making its bearer heavier and less dexterous. In a matter of hours it sank, and the lava expanded as soon as it contacted the water – a new continent was born. An orange amorphous mass invaded the surface, settled itself in the middle of the ocean and everything was calm and immaculate. Everything, until the arrival of the terrace-dwellers.


The personal bubbles and their importance

Regarding the process of socialization, why is it that some people find it extremely difficult whilst other look like they are like naturals, frantic machines of adulation and gossip? Jung mapped it to an innate schism between introversion and extraversion – in the former the individual seems to restore its energy being alone and places the interaction with other people in a low-level of priority, its takes on the process ranging from tiresome to downright boring; in the latter, the extravert seems energized by the whole interaction, equating a buffet of variables and possible outcomes of social interaction and are blessed with an emotional iq that far outwheighs the introvert’s, at least generally. Not that the extravert necessarily resembles the typical social butterfly, happily swinging across niches of blabbering activity, much the opossite – even though there is a relevant correlation between extraversion and social “success”, an introvert can be as outspoken as the former, the only difference being the stimulus each one derives from their experience of reality. The introvert will naturally put a much more accentuated emphasis on a certain reclusiveness, privacy, yearning to be in a peaceful environment. The extravert looks forward to interaction with other people as a means of connecting with the world at large, weaving the fabric of its experience of reality as a collateral result of other individual’s outlook and opinions – their experience ends up being somewhat influenced by the knowledge and ideas with which they contact daily.

As such, an individual’s personal bubble is exerted according to the personality – if introverted, the larger the need to stave off interaction the bigger the bubble grows. But first things first: what is a personal bubble? I would consider it an ethereal field surrounding the mind’s eye – much like an aura, a chakra if you rather, that is inherent to every conscious being, an archive of our human experience that proves impossible to emulate to another, for even if one were endowed with the most versed tongue would still fail to truly express his naturally subjective experience. It’s almost as if it’s lost in translation, remaining in the depths of our memory even if pressured to get out – the means to do such would be far inferior to the individual’s whole sensory experiences. The bubble would also encompass the thoughts, ideas, aspiring confessions that we keep to ourselves, shoved into the pits of oblivion for their lowly quality (I’ll leave those to your imagination).

More importantly, it contributes to our fulfillement in a very idiosincratic fashion – for the extravert it is much more maleable, inducing the merging of similar bubbles – they then turn to group bubbles, which would explain some sort of herd spirit during our younger days, where we are more naturally inclined to adhere to the other bubble’s demands (I might remind why the usage of such a term “bubbles”: it traces to a thin protection, a confined space which provides confort since it mantains its structure, even if for a fleeting moment). Hence, the extravert’s bubble seems more given to adapt to other people’s circumstances, who feed off of a feeling of connectedness and availability which in turn further develop the bubble’s carrier personality. In the introvert, the modular characteristic is still present, but the number it can connect to is usually much less accentuated – it’s reserved to first degree family, close friends, and perhaps one or two colleagues.


See: Redundant