A great deal of my writing this year has been an examination of the moral fallibility of the human race. It is a disturbing and fascinating topic that does not see enough attention in popular media. More recently, however, I've focused on another kind of fallibility in humans: physical. A long and infuriating string of illnesses basically defined this quarter for me, and it gave me a bit of insight into life in bad health.
Thus was born Replication, a speculative science fiction short story with dark undertones and no redeeming characters. This kind of writing is extremely uncharacteristic for me: I do incorporate fairly dry humor into my writing but the absence of any hope or positive message was out of character. I felt like this was the final push to be done and focus on getting back to good health.
The story began as a fairly comedic work. I wanted to satirize someone overconfident in their own abilities and physical strength, and so I modeled Johannes Koenigsmann as a narcissistic executive who did little work past founding his company. At this point I contracted my first sinus infection, and the story took a pretty dark turn as a result.
Originally I intended to have Kayne embarrass himself at a press conference by trying to demonstrate a revolutionary leap in biological technology which failed miserably. As the story progressed, however, the character developed into too intelligent a man to humiliate him in an entertaining way. I went back to the beginning of the story and modified the character to make him absolutely unredeemable and decided that he would have to learn a lesson the hard way. And so, Kayne loses an eye in a horrifying public display.
Replication stands as the darkest piece I've written to date, and will probably remain in that position for a while to come. The story was a unique way for me to take stock of what was going on and I'm happy to say that it got me through all right.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Change of Mind: Once
I have never felt particularly comfortable discussing the concept of love. It's not a particularly masculine concept by any stretch, and it's an outpouring of emotions that can really make me feel vulnerable. I'm going to try to overcome that barrier here.
The movie Once had a profound impact on my perception of what romantic types like to call true love, namely that it isn't necessarily true love. I used to believe in this more strict form of love - if it's true love, it shouldn't end. It can last forever. Both parties can somehow be together and rarely get angry or impatient with one another. They have the same interests, the same opinions, the same hopes and dreams.
This kind of love seems extremely appealing in theory. It would give you someone who understood you perfectly and would always be there. The connection would be infallible. But as I went through my early adolescent years I didn't see this kind of thing happening, to me or anyone else. I expected it to, and I didn't see it as unrealistic. But I really think I spent a lot of that time looking for the wrong thing.
The portrayal of a love story in Once is radically different from the traditional concept. It's not love at first sight, there's very little focus on a physical relationship, and they don't even end up together. It doesn't seem to make much sense, and the first time I watched the movie it left me pretty sad at the end, even though the characters were happy. It didn't feel quite right to me, like there was some kind of injustice that had occurred.
This time around, though, I took some different ideas out of it. I can't really say the Once single-handedly changed my ideas about love, but it did sort of "finalize" them in a way. I was able to appreciate the good things that came out of this much shorter, oddly resolved love. It was a different kind of experience: two people came together, had influence on each other and were both changed for the better. Then they parted ways. I think that speaks powerfully to the true form of love. Both were still happy in the aftermath, even though it hadn't "worked out" in the traditional sense.
The movie Once had a profound impact on my perception of what romantic types like to call true love, namely that it isn't necessarily true love. I used to believe in this more strict form of love - if it's true love, it shouldn't end. It can last forever. Both parties can somehow be together and rarely get angry or impatient with one another. They have the same interests, the same opinions, the same hopes and dreams.
This kind of love seems extremely appealing in theory. It would give you someone who understood you perfectly and would always be there. The connection would be infallible. But as I went through my early adolescent years I didn't see this kind of thing happening, to me or anyone else. I expected it to, and I didn't see it as unrealistic. But I really think I spent a lot of that time looking for the wrong thing.
The portrayal of a love story in Once is radically different from the traditional concept. It's not love at first sight, there's very little focus on a physical relationship, and they don't even end up together. It doesn't seem to make much sense, and the first time I watched the movie it left me pretty sad at the end, even though the characters were happy. It didn't feel quite right to me, like there was some kind of injustice that had occurred.
This time around, though, I took some different ideas out of it. I can't really say the Once single-handedly changed my ideas about love, but it did sort of "finalize" them in a way. I was able to appreciate the good things that came out of this much shorter, oddly resolved love. It was a different kind of experience: two people came together, had influence on each other and were both changed for the better. Then they parted ways. I think that speaks powerfully to the true form of love. Both were still happy in the aftermath, even though it hadn't "worked out" in the traditional sense.
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