iArrive

The only reason I remembered the existence of blogger is the fact that my aunt Robb reminded me of it.

I should write something poignant as my first post. I'm thinking very hard... And I believe I will go with a train of thought.

I notice some of my most interesting writing utilizes Grecian levels of tragedy at times. I wonder what that says about myself. Then I stop wondering, because it very obviously points out that I'm a rather depressed person.

Another note: After reviewing my favorites out of my list of characters, I found that each of them hide who they are. Not at normal levels, though Sorano is rather close to normal levels of hiding. I have one character who is so utterly closed off that even those closest to him don't realize exactly how damaged he is. On the other end of the spectrum, and not so mysteriously the most difficult to write is the one character who is completely open with anyone he meets. The problem with him is that he's a psychopath. I love them so.

What the most amusing thing is is that any of my characters could become a favorite of anyone. People are naturally tragic, closed off things. That's not to say that human beings are not social creatures. The problem with being social creatures is fitting in with the rest of the surrounding society. This results in everyone hiding who they are. We are not sheep, after all. Some of us neigh where others tweet, and at times, we are offended by the bellowing of the local cow.

I attempt to live in a place of neutrality, avoiding the conflicts brought on by clashing social interaction. The only problem with doing this is that I have to stamp down my own honest opinions and my own personal views. To me, that's an awful thing to do. Recently my internal self has been shouting out and telling me that I should be a more honest human being. The part of me that strives for self preservation has been winning in this battle, and I've kept my mouth shut.

The base issue of continually crushing who you are is that inevitably, it will break out. Recently, my inner self broke out in the most irritating of ways, through a burst of panic and anxiety. When I think about it, trapped animals react in the same way. They wish for freedom, no matter how small the burst, and that brief freedom is often a result of panic. The more base creatures of the world do not frown upon these wild acts of anxious abandon. I'm sadly a member of the more complex, and I feel the frowns, even if they are not there.

In exchange for sacrificing who I am by force, I find I enjoy sacrificing who I am by choice through cosplay, and roleplay. To act, and become someone else for a time, and to have others accept it is an enjoyable thing, especially when the acting is a part of your core self. A part that you've preserved and cultivated over the years. And I do believe I'm a fine actor. After all, people believe me to be their best of friend when I can barely stand the thought of being around them.

Writing, I feel, is a fine reflection of yourself. My writing is tragic, filled with characters who can't face themselves, or allow others to see who they honestly are. My favorite endings to these stories is when they do finally allow people in, and are happier for it. I don't find it strange that none of my stories with these endings have ever been completed to my satisfaction. I consider it a fine parallel to the fact that I haven't had my satisfying moment of clarity.

I do find it irritating that I haven't been able to write anything of worth in weeks now.

In the mean time, I give you an example of Grecian tragedy, in form of fanfiction:

http://nobiwriting.livejournal.com/3293.html#cutid1

Enjoy whatever else you may find on there, if it pleases you.

~Nobi~