Tag: words

solysium – n. the unhinged delirium of being alone for an extended period of time – feeling the hours stretch into days until a weird little culture begins to form inside your head, with its own superstitions and alternate histories and a half-mumbled dialect all your own – whose freewheeling absurdity feels oddly liberating but makes it that much harder to reacclimate to the structures and ambiguities of normal social life.

I don’t find myself alone too often. Not for an extended period of time. As an introvert, I like my alone time for sure, but I also like the energy of other people around. I just prefer some quiet times where no one is talking to me.

I don’t know that I develop solysium, with a culture in my head. I certainly game some interactions, or reply a conversation, usually wishing I’d said something smarter or wittier.

For me, I like the world, I like interacting with people and I appreciate the social structures I’m in. I am comfortable in a lot of US social situations, but I can find something fascinating or interesting when I’m in Italy or Germany or England or anywhere else. The differences, even if they’re not something I’d do or like, are amazing. They keep the world a special place.

From the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

fitching – v. intr. compulsively turning away from works of art you find frustratingly, nauseatingly good – wanting to shut off the film and leave the theater, or devour a book only in maddeningly little chunks – because it resonates are precisely the right frequency to rattle you to your core, which makes it mildly uncomfortable to be yourself.

Good is relative, I guess. Maybe things are so well done that you can’t handle the imagery?

I’ve found myself fitching while trying to watch Crash many years ago at home. My wife was captivated, but I had to get up and leave the room. It was far too real, and too possible for me, and I couldn’t handle it.

That has stuck with me, and I’ve avoided certain films or books since then.

From the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

symptomania – n. the fantasy that there’s some elaborate diagnosis out there that neatly captures the kind of person you are, tying together your many flaws and contradictions into a single theme – which wouldn’t necessarily sort out the mess inside your head but would at least let you mark it with a little sign so people know to walk around it.

Another great definition. Maybe we should have signs we can hold up to let people know we’re feeling a little off and they should just walk around us and ignore us

I don’t feel symptomania, mostly because I am accepting of flaws, and I don’t try to simplify the world so much anymore. I don’t see black and white but rather lots of gray. I don’t try to reduce things to a simple measure, but accept a complex way of the world as the way things are.

From the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

addleworth – adj. unable to settle the question of whether you’re doing okay in life; feeling torn between conflicting value systems and moveable goalposts, which makes you long for someone to come along and score your progress in discrete and measurable units – points, dollars, friends, followers, or a grade point average – which may not clear up where you’re going, but would at least reassure you that you’re one step closer to getting there.

This is certainly something I’ve felt, often with my financial future and career. I feel this when looking at my salary or my savings and wondering if I’m doing okay compared to others. Often, I’ve compared myself to others and tried to establish a comparative metric that helps me determine if I’m doing well.

This used to be dollars, and for the most part, I’ve given up on this. Once in awhile I look at someone and think “could I be like them” or “should I try to do what they do” to achieve something similar, but I quickly look at my self of happiness, stress, and other ephemeral metrics to realize I have a great life and shouldn’t bother measuring whatever I’m observing.

From the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows