I am having a fantasy identity crisis. Weird concept to start with. It is not an identity crisis for me, the respectful writer, but more of a disconnect between me and one of my characters, my shades, who dated back from my high school years. This character was the embodiment of the depression I was going through then. It was non-clinical and caused by typical high school things, such as not having any guys like me. However, it was pretty deep on some levels and I continued to be affected by it long after high school. I still encounter some of the mental garbage associated with it as well.
When I am down in a rut, sometimes I create more because I have to have a way to tell people what I am feeling. I don't write poetry anymore because I don't have any of the negative feelings to tell.
Anyway, all that aside, I was very involved in an online forum-based role-playing game. Basically, all we did was write on the forums what our character would do and other people would respond with their characters and we could interact and create stories and explore a world fueled only by imagination, proboards, and a decent internet connection. The one I'm talking about in particular was based on X-Men Evolution, starting when most of the main characters are in high school. I will never be able to catch up on all the comics, but I can watch all the episodes of the tv series and felt well-informed before I entered.
In one of my moods, I created an X-Men style character named "Midnight." Original, I'm sure. Midnight was able to create darkness and as a result of her powers and her past, she was even darker and more emo than I was. Many of my characters start out as me, but as I form them for the world they live in and the things they must do, they change and become separate. I refer to them in the third person.
I am very attached to Midnight for the long and creative life she lived (and subsequent role-play addiction I had) and all the stories I carried out in the X-Men world with other writers. But eventually the forum died. I can't even remember why I left.
Now the crisis I'm in revolves around a reoccurring X-Men obsession and the discovery of a new forum, this one based on the movies. I considered bringing Midnight back as a new character on this board, but as I started to re-write her biography, I started making little changes... Her eyes are no longer red on black (think, Gambit) because that is too...overused. Just red irises now. She no longer wears all black... way too goth. She wears maybe some more gothic accessories sometimes, but it's mostly tank top and jeans, with a belt and a pair of shoes that I would wear. Her past was somewhat poorly written, so I'd have to re-write that... each decision chips away at what Midnight was and now I don't know who this character is.
Should I just reformat Midnight and try and learn who she is now? It's hard to write a character you don't know. Or should I completely start from scratch, starting with new powers? Would I know that character any better?
It's hard to abandon a staple of my past. I have imaginative landmarks just as I have the real life events, the ones you vaguely remember forever. I remember back before I started imagining me... I made myself a slim blonde. Eventually I came to grips with the fact that I wasn't going to change and lose the dark eyes and freckles no matter how hard I imagined, so I started putting myself in my stories... little less of a letdown. I vaguely remember so many pieces of cameos I played, trying to add myself into a movie, wanting to experience it first hand and have the characters interact with me. I remember most strongly Midnight and my experience in the role-playing game. I remember putting real faces to the characters in Deerslayer so that I managed to stumble over all the language and over-wordy descriptions to see what happened to the main character... who coincidently looked like a guy I thought was cute.
Do you ever feel like you NEED a story to happen? You need to find or see or hear or imagine a story that is so riveting and creative and well-done you might almost burst if something doesn't fulfill your creative longings? I'm feeling that right now... I've got to find a story...
Wednesday, October 27, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Cyborgs and the Future
My husband, I believe, could play computer games for a week on end if he had no other pressing responsibilities. Apparently in Jr. High, he played some games through the night, which I find very easy to believe. He's done it before in college as well.
We have somewhat different priorities. I like normal human stuff like sleeping and eating. He seems to get around to those things when he remembers. I think there have been more nights when I make dinner and put it down in front of him in between his two arms and in front of the keyboard than nights where we've sat at the cute little table in the corner and actually looked at each other.
I knew about this tendency before I married him. It didn't bother me too much because I, myself, am also a geek. I have much more limited tastes and an eventual "your brain is turning to mush, do something else" check in my head, but I've been known to burn several hours at a time, especially on free days. But I digress.
I think that the eventual creation of cyborgs might overcome this problem. I think eventually our electronic devices will become a part of our systems, something combining the idea of tattoos and Bluetooth headsets. A couple of ports in our ears, mebbe a mechanical eye, something like that. What I am going for here, is the implantation of a video game system that will let David get away from his computer so he is less like an invalid when at home and actually able to do something useful. Now granted, I don't see him being able to multi-task to the point where I won't know if he's playing a game, but I was thinking operation somewhere along robot lines, like able to make his own food and vacuum the floor... he won't even notice he's doing it!
So all for turning gamers into robot-like cyborgs? At least the chores will still be done.
(As I wrote this, he discovered he could hook the brand new 37-inch flat screen up to his computer with an HDMI cable and is now playing World of Warcraft at a resolution that would be fine for me, all the way back on the sofa.)
We have somewhat different priorities. I like normal human stuff like sleeping and eating. He seems to get around to those things when he remembers. I think there have been more nights when I make dinner and put it down in front of him in between his two arms and in front of the keyboard than nights where we've sat at the cute little table in the corner and actually looked at each other.
I knew about this tendency before I married him. It didn't bother me too much because I, myself, am also a geek. I have much more limited tastes and an eventual "your brain is turning to mush, do something else" check in my head, but I've been known to burn several hours at a time, especially on free days. But I digress.
I think that the eventual creation of cyborgs might overcome this problem. I think eventually our electronic devices will become a part of our systems, something combining the idea of tattoos and Bluetooth headsets. A couple of ports in our ears, mebbe a mechanical eye, something like that. What I am going for here, is the implantation of a video game system that will let David get away from his computer so he is less like an invalid when at home and actually able to do something useful. Now granted, I don't see him being able to multi-task to the point where I won't know if he's playing a game, but I was thinking operation somewhere along robot lines, like able to make his own food and vacuum the floor... he won't even notice he's doing it!
So all for turning gamers into robot-like cyborgs? At least the chores will still be done.
(As I wrote this, he discovered he could hook the brand new 37-inch flat screen up to his computer with an HDMI cable and is now playing World of Warcraft at a resolution that would be fine for me, all the way back on the sofa.)
Friday, June 25, 2010
Is it exceedingly weird to want to take homeless people home? Or pick up hitchhikers? Or help the people who have signs that say "please help?"
It seems that one does not pick up hitchhikers in America. It is simply not safe. Who knows who they might be, with or without Bud Light? I know at least two people who are against me trying new things (like bar crawls) who would also be firmly against me picking up hitchhikers and homeless people, namely my mother and my fiance, David.
I only discovered that they were so against these strange longings I get when I was designated driver for a co-worker at a Des Moines. I didn't drink then, in my pre-21 days, because I need a serious good excuse for breaking the law and "having a good time" with that foul-smelling liquid that can make anybody turn into an idiot was not a law-breaking type of appealing. I like to pick my battles.
Anyway, my Mom and David were not too keen on my doing that, but it was uneventful and he really wasn't even that drunk.
Another time I became aware of their combined displeasure was after I gave plasma at Bio-Life. A college age guy was also there, and had locked his keys in his car and just wanted a lift to the nearest Ford dealership. I agreed and to the amazement of everyone, it happened without incident. However, I was told not to do it again.
But really, I see the amount of people driving past these people and wonder, if we aren't helping them, who will? Why can't I adopt a few homeless people?
It seems that one does not pick up hitchhikers in America. It is simply not safe. Who knows who they might be, with or without Bud Light? I know at least two people who are against me trying new things (like bar crawls) who would also be firmly against me picking up hitchhikers and homeless people, namely my mother and my fiance, David.
I only discovered that they were so against these strange longings I get when I was designated driver for a co-worker at a Des Moines. I didn't drink then, in my pre-21 days, because I need a serious good excuse for breaking the law and "having a good time" with that foul-smelling liquid that can make anybody turn into an idiot was not a law-breaking type of appealing. I like to pick my battles.
Anyway, my Mom and David were not too keen on my doing that, but it was uneventful and he really wasn't even that drunk.
Another time I became aware of their combined displeasure was after I gave plasma at Bio-Life. A college age guy was also there, and had locked his keys in his car and just wanted a lift to the nearest Ford dealership. I agreed and to the amazement of everyone, it happened without incident. However, I was told not to do it again.
But really, I see the amount of people driving past these people and wonder, if we aren't helping them, who will? Why can't I adopt a few homeless people?
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
RAGE
I was pondering on a few different types of rage on the way back from David's apartment tonight. A popular form of rage is NERD RAGE, which I identify to be something along the lines of "This movie sucks because in scene three, Aragorn is supposed to be wearing a brown waistcoat and they put him as wearing a green waistcoat." Nerd rage means you know too much about something and therefore are upset when anyone who might know less than you changes something. I occasionally have nerd rage, but I like to make sure it is warranted, like say the leaving out of entire characters.
Another type of rage I've identified very recently is PANERA RAGE. Panera rage is induced by people allowing their children to reach under the glass and touch pastries, leaving all their dishes on their tables (instead of putting them in the carefully labeled bins), and stepping up when we say "I can help whoever is ready!" and then looking at the menu for the first time. By the way, would that be "whomever" instead of "whoever?"
The type of rage that set off this mental examination is what I fondly call VIRGIN RAGE. And I won't say any more about that except that this entire month stinks and the days are taking FOREVER. It's about nine days left now?
Another type of rage I've identified very recently is PANERA RAGE. Panera rage is induced by people allowing their children to reach under the glass and touch pastries, leaving all their dishes on their tables (instead of putting them in the carefully labeled bins), and stepping up when we say "I can help whoever is ready!" and then looking at the menu for the first time. By the way, would that be "whomever" instead of "whoever?"
The type of rage that set off this mental examination is what I fondly call VIRGIN RAGE. And I won't say any more about that except that this entire month stinks and the days are taking FOREVER. It's about nine days left now?
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