I have finished reading A Writer's Diary today and it feels like I've lost a friend. I started reading that book my second year in college. I still remember sitting in my immunology class feeling out of place in the sea of premeds. I don't know why I read that book waiting for the lecture to begin instead of talking to the people around me. I just distinctly remember reading it and feeling comforted.

It was sad when I was nearing the end of a page because I already knew the denouement so well: the end of her diary means the end of her days. I thought when someone decides to take one's life, it's after years of wanting death. But it seems v. woolf was concerned more with preserving life in her old age than with dying. Of course I am sure the diary has been heavily edited out by Leonard... but I do still try to piece together the psychological world of hers. I think that's exactly what Leonard wanted to prevent. He wanted to put together entries that show her as a writer only.

And well, I was surprised (I don't know why I should be) that writing was such a struggle for her. And I felt that towards the end, it was becoming too hard and labored. Writing is hard but it's wonderful to have a job where you create. I think people work for someone (office job), be a technician (doctor, lawyer), or create (artist, writer). I think we all want to be a creator, but settle for the other two. I think the perfect solution is to become a professor. You get paid, you don't have to be the best writer, and you can surround yourself with intelligent people.

Well I digress. So I do miss the book very much. I don't know why I read it so slowly. I finally made up my mind to finish it a few days ago and I felt a great resistance to that idea. Well, I think I should read Between the Acts now. I think that book is really the end of A Writer's Diary for some reason.

copycat

It's probably a safe guess that Michael Cunningham is a Virginia Woolf fan. But I was so ecstatic when I found out that Virginia Woolf had initially titled Mrs. Dalloway, The Hours. I thought I had found some great literary gem, a gem I mostly wanted to share with Ken. But anyway, yesterday, I found the phrase, specimen days, in Virginia Woolf's published journal, A Writer's Diary. Okay, maybe I am too ignorant, or this is a sign that English is not my native language... but I honestly have not seen the phrase "specimen days" anywhere else but as the title of Michael Cunningham's book. Is it possible that he got it from v. woolf's diary? I mean it's such a poetic phrase. It certainly stands out. He probably read woolf's A Writer's Diary when he was researching for The Hours...Well, it's high plausible that he has read A Writer's Diary way before writing The Hours because he admires v. woolf. Would anyone correct me if I am wrong and that the phrase, specimen days, is actually a really common term?

Well whatever the verdict, I am always glad to think about how there are other v. woolf fans out there. It makes me feel connected to humanity or something.

things are not what they seem

I have this desire for the last couple of weeks to resurrect this blog. So here goes. I don't know why I don't write here more frequently. I guess in general I am trapped in a state of inaction. But other than that, I think I'd feel incredibly guilty writing here when I can use my time online to catch up with my emails and facebook messages. But I think the emails are never going to disappear and if I keep putting up the fight, I'll just go insane. So well, I think I need a break from email (not)writing for now.

I've been reading a couple of books in transactional analysis, a concept I have never encountered before. The two books are:

Games People Play by Eric Berne
I'm OK - You're OK by Thomas A. Harris.

I thought it was odd I had never heard of transactional analysis before given that I tried to familiarize myself with psychoanalytic literature in college. Okay, I am not particularly well read in that field, but still... I wouldn't have salvaged those books from a box at the Hyde Park book fair if it weren't for my high school psychology teacher mentioning those books.

And they are great! Of course given that psychoanalysis is not the hippest thing anymore in psychiatry, those books are a bit dated. The situations elucidated by Eric Berne seem a bit archaic. But the books are nonetheless irresistible. You read about each game and immediately recognize it.

I think we must be careful though. The worse thing that a reader can do is to look for the pathological game play in every social transaction, especially in the loved ones. That's why I fear recommending these books to certain people who are prone to victimize themselves in every relationship. After all, Berne clearly states not all relationships are games.

The frustrating thing about psychoanalytic literature always is that you can't prove the validity of its claims. So it's hard to know for sure if the brain before the age of 5 has recorded every parental action, words, and attitudes to create a "parent" personality in each of us. But all of the claims are so completely feasible.

Well, I don't think we should fret too much about the validity of these claims though. The take home message really is that we often play these games, which are most of the time innocuous, to fill up social time. I find that very compelling. We don't have the time and the energy to create an intimate relationship with everyone we meet. We also can't ignore the other human being who come into our social space. Hence the games. Some of the more serious and pathological games, I think, are not lost to history--a lot of the underlying issues are easily recognized, I think, by mental health professionals today. But even the pathological games end up not causing too much mess in a person's life. They more often than not get weaved into the fabric of someone's life because we are so good at finding others who will play the games we prefer.

The other take home message is of course that things are not always what they seem. Our words and deeds may have ulterior motives, which aren't always sinister. It's just that we are not always totally self-aware. So correct interpretation of intentions are always elusive.

The copies I have of these books are incredibly old. And as I read them, I often think about the previous owner. I wonder if that person also thought what I was thinking. I wonder if that person gained insight from these books. I wonder if that person ever finished these books or bought them because they were really popular in the 70s and wanted to sound smart. I like the yellowed used books. I like the history that comes with it. But it's also a bit gruesome, like digging up a grave.

I wonder if I never came across these books because they are not academic. Eric Berne and his students would be very upset, but I do think they are derivatives of Freud. I think in that I'm Ok- you're ok book, it specifically says the parent-adult-child is not a watered down version of the superego-ego-id model. But the similarities are hard to ignore. And the explicit goal in these books was to make psychoanalysis popular and easy to understand for the layman. I am not saying the books aren't profound because they aren't academic. I actually really appreciate reading these self-help books from the 70s that aren't so watered down, cheesy and flashy like the ones that are published today.

And I find it fascinating that people in the 70s read these books for fun. It's like time travel. Today, the popular sellers are the approachable cognitive neuroscience books like Stumbling on Happiness and The Tipping Point. Back then, I suppose the people were just as fascinated with the mind, but the best sellers were the approachable psychanalysis books. A couple of decades from today, people would find the experiment based cognitive psychology best sellers dated. I hope we have made some real breakthroughs about the brain and the mind by then.