They Know My Weaknesses, I Never Tried To Hide Them, They Know My Weaknesses, I Never Denied Them
--"The Things You Said", Depeche Mode
Recently I broke my glasses or, more precisely, I managed to lose one half of them. This prompted the need to get my eyes checked and for a new pair to be ordered. What it also prompted was an impromptu evaluation that, as a specimen for the human race, I suffer interminably from deficiencies too numerous to even catalog. In the mad dash to just make it through the day sometimes I forget that I'm not exactly running at 100% these days (if I ever was truly running at such condition in the first place). I forget that I cannot do everything my heart desires and that there are certain physical feats that are just beyond my range of ability. Vision is merely the tip of the mojo iceberg.
It was funny--when I was a kid I used to think that I possessed extra-sensitive hearing to make up for my lack of ability to smell. I remember standing out in my parents' backyard, imagining I could hear birds ten miles away or that I could piece together conversations my neighbors were having in their homes behind closed windows. All the television and movie characters spouting the ineffable logic that, when an individual loses one sense, another gets heightened to make up for it had me believing that I could soon parlay my amazingly uncanny hearing into a superhero career. What kind of hero merely relies on hearing to save the day? That much I hadn't figure out, but I knew I'd eventually be slugging it out with criminals one day. Then, when, many years later, my eye doctor told me that I was a tad near-sighted in my left eye and that, when driving or working around computers, I'd have to utilize glasses, I began to wonder what skill or talent I'd pick up in compensation.
That's the way my mind works. In fact, that's the way I create characters, as if they were superheroes--chock full of supernatural ablities and perks, yet balanced by severe drawbacks. I even go through the effort of filling out a mock dossier I gleaned from a superhero role-playing game I used to play in high school. Not only does it list the physical attributes--height, weight, and the usual suspects--but it actually provides space for special powers and talents, fleshed out to such a degree that it cultivates some original ideas I would have never had, had I not gone through the trouble of filling out the form in earnest. Nominally, I'd fill it out with "real" powers when I used to write the superhero short stories of my youth. Lately, however, I've taken to placing the noble qualities and characteristics that the characters exhibit because, as cool as phasing and desolidification are, I think the ability to treat women like a gentleman and knows when to be gracious are just as awe-inspiring qualities to have. However, where I truly get to the meat of a character is when I start imagining their flaws. Nothing really points to the humanity of an individual as seeing them at their worst or most frightened. Not everyone knows what it's like to be Superman saving the day, but everyone of us knows what it feels like to be awkward Clark.
Like I said, it's not that I think myself perfect. Impeccable is not a word that springs to mind when I take stock of myself. I just forget that I have weaknesses. I forget that the last time I saw a gym was back in March. I forget that I don't exactly have the best track record in staying on my friends' good sides. I forget that every woman I've ever liked has been the wrong kind of woman or, at the very least, has landed me in a heap of trouble. I forget that I shouldn't be driving anywhere after seven without my trusty specs.
Of course, when it comes to patting myself on the back I'm the first in line.
It takes times like this, when I realize what an imperfect and stupid fool I am, to bring me back to Earth. Times like this I realize I get by, not because of those areas I think I excel in, because I'm sure there are other individuals much more talented in those areas than myself. I get by because, despite my shortcomings, I manage to persevere through. Everyone has qualities ugly and twisted, has deficiencies glaring, has moments they are not proud of. Everyone experiences doubts that who they are as a person isn't going to pass muster when the time comes. It's the people who rattle and hum on anyway that are happiest. Everyone can have a good day or two. It's the people who know how to string together bad day after next, and still manage a smile that are the most admirable.
"The Dude abides. I don't know about you but I take comfort in that."
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
Recently I broke my glasses or, more precisely, I managed to lose one half of them. This prompted the need to get my eyes checked and for a new pair to be ordered. What it also prompted was an impromptu evaluation that, as a specimen for the human race, I suffer interminably from deficiencies too numerous to even catalog. In the mad dash to just make it through the day sometimes I forget that I'm not exactly running at 100% these days (if I ever was truly running at such condition in the first place). I forget that I cannot do everything my heart desires and that there are certain physical feats that are just beyond my range of ability. Vision is merely the tip of the mojo iceberg.It was funny--when I was a kid I used to think that I possessed extra-sensitive hearing to make up for my lack of ability to smell. I remember standing out in my parents' backyard, imagining I could hear birds ten miles away or that I could piece together conversations my neighbors were having in their homes behind closed windows. All the television and movie characters spouting the ineffable logic that, when an individual loses one sense, another gets heightened to make up for it had me believing that I could soon parlay my amazingly uncanny hearing into a superhero career. What kind of hero merely relies on hearing to save the day? That much I hadn't figure out, but I knew I'd eventually be slugging it out with criminals one day. Then, when, many years later, my eye doctor told me that I was a tad near-sighted in my left eye and that, when driving or working around computers, I'd have to utilize glasses, I began to wonder what skill or talent I'd pick up in compensation.
That's the way my mind works. In fact, that's the way I create characters, as if they were superheroes--chock full of supernatural ablities and perks, yet balanced by severe drawbacks. I even go through the effort of filling out a mock dossier I gleaned from a superhero role-playing game I used to play in high school. Not only does it list the physical attributes--height, weight, and the usual suspects--but it actually provides space for special powers and talents, fleshed out to such a degree that it cultivates some original ideas I would have never had, had I not gone through the trouble of filling out the form in earnest. Nominally, I'd fill it out with "real" powers when I used to write the superhero short stories of my youth. Lately, however, I've taken to placing the noble qualities and characteristics that the characters exhibit because, as cool as phasing and desolidification are, I think the ability to treat women like a gentleman and knows when to be gracious are just as awe-inspiring qualities to have. However, where I truly get to the meat of a character is when I start imagining their flaws. Nothing really points to the humanity of an individual as seeing them at their worst or most frightened. Not everyone knows what it's like to be Superman saving the day, but everyone of us knows what it feels like to be awkward Clark.
Like I said, it's not that I think myself perfect. Impeccable is not a word that springs to mind when I take stock of myself. I just forget that I have weaknesses. I forget that the last time I saw a gym was back in March. I forget that I don't exactly have the best track record in staying on my friends' good sides. I forget that every woman I've ever liked has been the wrong kind of woman or, at the very least, has landed me in a heap of trouble. I forget that I shouldn't be driving anywhere after seven without my trusty specs.
Of course, when it comes to patting myself on the back I'm the first in line.
It takes times like this, when I realize what an imperfect and stupid fool I am, to bring me back to Earth. Times like this I realize I get by, not because of those areas I think I excel in, because I'm sure there are other individuals much more talented in those areas than myself. I get by because, despite my shortcomings, I manage to persevere through. Everyone has qualities ugly and twisted, has deficiencies glaring, has moments they are not proud of. Everyone experiences doubts that who they are as a person isn't going to pass muster when the time comes. It's the people who rattle and hum on anyway that are happiest. Everyone can have a good day or two. It's the people who know how to string together bad day after next, and still manage a smile that are the most admirable.
"The Dude abides. I don't know about you but I take comfort in that."
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
posted by mojo shivers @ 9:54 PM
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