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What You and Augustine Have in Common

I think about a lot of things when I think about the word “indoctrination,” but I don’t really ever think of myself as an indoctrinator. I am in the pursuit of truth! Of reason! Of other opposites of indoctrination! I do not indoctrinate. Indoctrination is left for people who don’t agree with me.

There’s this really cool psychologist – Albert Ellis. He was a bit eccentric, but he has perhaps the most humanistic and realistic of the personality theories. Ellis believed that we weren’t a passive victim of the things that happen to us. He thought that we indoctrinate ourselves – that we latch on to ideas and then present those ideas to ourselves as fact when, in reality, these “facts” are nothing more than irrational beliefs.

For example, when we say things like “I’m stupid” to ourselves, we are practicing indoctrination. It’s not factually true that we are stupid; it’s a belief. And we can change beliefs. But we rarely do because this kind of self-talk is indoctrinated.

Ellis believed that unwanted emotions were simply irrational beliefs. Who decides that you are unhappy? There is no objective unhappiness machine that calculates good and bad events in your life and pops out an unhappiness quotient. We decide that we are unhappy so much so that when someone asks us how we are doing, we think we are lying if we don’t tell the questioner that we are, in fact, unhappy. But you can’t lie about something that isn’t true, and unhappiness is never a truth.

Ellis also believed that we are slaves to false “musts.” There really aren’t that many “musts” in the world. But we think there are billions. We must be successful. Everyone must play fair and nice or else must be punished. The world must give us what we want when we want. These are all false false false.

So stop thinking about what you think you must do or must happen and start thinking about what you want to do. And indoctrinate yourself with those thoughts.

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A Short Math Lesson

There are 10,080 minutes in a week. That comes out to 168 hours. One of my favorite things to complain about is that I don’t have enough time. When you calculate it all out, that statement is ludicrous. I am in class 13 hours a week. I work 10 hours a week. It would be ideal if I slept 56 hours a week. So far, I have only used 79/168 hours. That’s not even half. Even if I spend 20 hours a week on homework, I still have 79 hours left to use. And even if I spent 10 hours a week working on each of the student organizations I am in, I would still have 59 hours. 59 hours! What am I going to do with that much time?!

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Usin’ Some Grace Colloquially

I wrote this piece for my school newspaper. It got relatively good feedback. My friends enjoyed it. People I didn’t know enjoyed it. I should have counted that as a success. But I didn’t. The one, loud, glaring piece of feedback is a comment someone posted. The commenter accused me of using too many exclamation points (maybe I did, so what!) and too many colloquialisms (I use colloquialisms on the reg so whatevs). Those are facts. I did use more exclamation points and more colloquialisms than normal journalism usually allows. But he went further. He said these things damaged my credibility and that the piece sucked. Downer.

I got angry at first. I wanted to respond to his comment and tell him he was really stupid for thinking all of that. In my daydream, other people came to my rescue, too. They lauded my response and ridiculed him and basically verbally pummeled him. Obviously, this was not a healthy place to be.

And then I got to thinking. I do this all of the time. I criticize things that I have no right in criticizing. For example, I was recently reading this best seller, and I just wasn’t jiving with the writing style. I got to this point where I was thinking that this piece was objectively bad writing. But obviously, it’s not. It was a bestseller. Thousands of people love it. I just want my own opinion to be justified on an objective basis, and that’s balderdash.

I have a friend who gets to work with famous people regularly. A week or two ago, a group of us was all really excited because she got to meet a celebrity we all really admire. Turns out, this celebrity wasn’t all that nice to my friend. And we were all really disappointed when she told us. But my friend pointed out that she only got to interact with the celebrity for a couple of hours. So maybe the celebrity was having a bad day or a bad week or was going through something hard or was disappointed in the ticket sales. None of those things really justify being mean or rude, but at least they humanize the whole thing. We can identify with people who are mean because they are distracted by other things. That makes sense to us.

I guess my point is that we hardly ever know the full story. What that kid who commented on my piece doesn’t know about me is that I have a disease that makes me use too many exclamation points (not true). And maybe the author of the bestseller I was reading was really influenced by her editor and publisher. Maybe they made her cut her story into nothing but plot and dialogue.

For the brave ones: when did you judge or criticize someone too quickly?