Paper characters

People do a funny thing with fictional characters that are identified as heros or protagonists. We expect them to be perfect.

I know I am guilty of this. A prime example was my traditional opinion of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I love the show, but I always bash Buffy the character for being "whiny". I have read other fan blogs that cut her character down because she is supposed to be "feminist" but she places so much importance on the men in her life. But really, does caring about individual males or crying when things go wrong make her un-feminist? Considering all the shit she goes through on a daily basis, doesn't she have a right to whine every now and then? Why do we hold "feminist" females up to such high standards that they can no longer possess any flaws?

There is also a tendency to assume that protagonists need to be likeable and as soon as a character does something unlikable it is seen as a flaw in the story. Why? Maybe the writer wanted to highlight a negative character trait. Maybe the irony of a main character being as selfish and boring as the people she criticizes is intended as a comment on society. We don't mind character flaws if they are just neat little quirks or if our protagonists are able to overcome them easily enough, or if they are dark and haunted enough to give the protagonist an almost superhuman aura. But as soon as a character becomes truly conflicted, or awful, or deluded, or annoying, we tear them apart.

And so I apologize to Buffy for ever considering her to be a whiny bitch. Just because you have physical strength everybody expects you to be strong all the time. That's not fair. Most of us can't manage to be strong on our best days so we shouldn't place such unrealistic expectations on you.

I apologize to Spiderman for making mocking boo-hoo noises towards him. Dude, for all my flippancy, being a superhero must be fucking difficult. Never mind what effects being a human-spider hybrid would have on your sense of identity.

Next time you find a literary character unappealing in some way, consider this: maybe that's the point.

Confessions of a Cybernetic Human Being

Sometimes I think I don't think like the average human being. I can even surprise myself with my detached sort of hyper-practical way of evaluating things. It makes it difficult to understand simple human interactions that have an ultimately functional purpose.

I can, oddly enough, relate/empathize with emotions. I don't like talking about them but I do feel them, and when people say what they are feeling I can typically understand exactly why that is and how they reached that point and what other subconscious things they are also feeling.

Where I fail is when emotion and practicality merge. Example: I am moving into a place with a friend. It turns out that the bedrooms in the apartment are drastically different in size. In principle, I don't mind having the smaller bedroom and would normally without hesitation take it sans complaint. Once we determined that I had a larger bed, however, it seemed obvious to me that I should get the larger one - based solely on the fact that with a larger bed I would be more inconvenience by the small room. Plus my desk wouldn't fit. I know other people don't believe me, but in situations like this I actually become purely objective. I don't like stacking the odds to favour me, but if the objective facts line up that way then I can't argue with them.

My future roommate was really upset by all this. Seriously, there were almost tears. Even though some part of her had to know she was being selfish, she kept pushing to keep the bigger room, even to the point of suggesting I buy a new smaller desk to make things fit.

As much as I could see it was upsetting her, it was unthinkable to me that the person with the smaller bed and smaller desk would get the bigger room just because she wanted it. Completely illogical. I was incapable of incorporating the subjective evidence in the face of the objective.

Then, I find out that she actually also has a queen bed. That changed everything. Suddenly we were on completely equal ground in terms of who should objectively get the room. At this point I considered the subjective and figured since I wasn't to the point of tears about it that I would man up and go for the small room. Which is still ultimately an objective decision.

Maybe this is all ridiculous. But I can't help but observe, and be fascinated by, my own computer-like thinking process. And feel totally alienated because I can't fathom her more human, emotional approach. To me, objectivity seems fair. It doesn't place value on things arbitrarily. I'm still bothered when I think of the whole situation because she automatically assumed that somehow she deserved the room more than me, or should just get it no matter what, based on nothing in particular.

I don't think this is a sign of us not working out as roommates. I am taking the smaller room but I measured some stuff and have come up with a decent room configuration. Her selfishness is a bit troubling, but I consider it a fluke. I think that living with me will be good for her and hopefully I can teach her a bit about life, make her chill out a bit.

Ha, so there you have it. The condescending robot is moving in with the emotional child. The hilarious sitcom practically writes itself.

Right! The purpose of this post. It got me thinking about our definition of cyborgs. We often see robots imbued with human emotion, or cyborgs whose cyborgity is based on their physical makeup. Can a human being be thought of as a cyborg in relation to how they think? The more we use computers the more "computerized" our thought process becomes. If a human thinks ultimately on a purely quantitative level, could we not call them a cyborg? Isn't the way we think and perceive the world the most important thing about us?

The little death

In my recent attempt at a novel, a man approaches my character in a dream and asks him, "What are you so afraid of?" This is how I feel about this blog. About writing. Afraid.

I also recently told a friend that I wanted to write something beautiful. I find my usual work is intelligent, well-written, truthful, heck, even poignant, but never beautiful. I can't blame the content. The images I conjure in my head are indescribably beautiful, it is my portrayal of them that is lacking.

So maybe that is what I am afraid of. That I am incapable of it. That I will somehow fail myself in my writing.

The only time I feel free when writing is when I tell myself it doesn't matter...