Day 26: Character

Name three fictional characters you relate to.

Well, I’ve already covered two here. I have a thing for villains I suppose, but really, the self-destructive behavior that I relate to, the loneliness, the abandonment, have come from a deeper archetype that at least Hook can be said to resemble in his character makeup. There is no greater tragic heroine or symbol of the abandoned and used. So, after my beloved Captain Hook and the Evil Queen, the third answer would have to be Ophelia.

I know that I mirror this pattern at the very least in all of my intimate relationships. They tend to turn into the be all and end all. I want them to be the one so much that I ignore everything else, lose myself, defend their intentions and in the end, usually end up letting them kill me on the inside because I wouldn’t heed anyone else’s warning. In the midst, my every thought is bent on it, looking for fractures and then talking myself out of them, or feeling the pain of them as though they’ve already happened. It really is enough to drive someone mad. It’s a bit like your mind making up scenes for itself and then acting them out as if they were really happening. It finds some minute anecdotal evidence and runs with it. That’s sort of another story…

Briefly I relate to, the Queen, getting older and fearing her younger replacement, Hook, being wounded and left all alone, and Ophelia, losing her already shaky place in the world, devalued by every man in her life she looked to. They are all models of what I can become if I don’t reign in my moods and reactions.

The queen is full on wrath and comes to the surface when I’m angry.(That heart collection starts to look enticing…) Hook is my loneliness and pining for understanding. He’s wounded and then turns on a dime to anger. (I’ll make you feel something for what you’ve done to me and for mocking me on top of it!). Ophelia is the hopelessness. The loss of the envisioned future that was probably all in her imagination to begin with; the sinking I feel when that realization of loss hits and the depression comes on and the seeking out of that outcome.

My list isn’t so cheerful when you look but that all have their fabulous side. The Queen is beautiful and has mad magic skills. Hook has style and deep feeling, which I love. Ophelia has a determination and a courage to look head on into what Hamlet couldn’t, even if it wasn’t healthy. Gloomy gloom, gloom. One day I may find someone who mirrors my droll side. I’m sure there are many if I look. At one time, I was an angry anxious mess in the vein of Basil Fawlty, but without the hi-jinks. I love Black Adder, though  am hopefully not that mean, Abby Normal in the Christopher Moore novels is frightfully close in her style and dryness, but for now, these are the three. I’ll pick up the jokes on another day.

Day 20: Expression

How do you usually express yourself?

Let’s see, there’s this, lurking creepily at the cemetery, lurking creepily downtown, lurking…well, I do a lot of creepy lurking. Actually, no, I don’t, not anymore. Ah, the old days. I could also make a bad joke regarding my kid under the heading of breeding monsters, but he’s being a little too sweet today for that. I try to get him in on the self-expression, but so far he’s got his own thing.

Most of my expression now comes with me writing in one form or another, be it here or in my journal (very sporadically) or writing stories that I wish were Gothic. I do create monsters in my stories and actually, in my one finished manuscript I think I came up with some good ones. Oddly enough, most of the things I end up writing are sci-fi or fantasy and God knows I love a good battle scene. I have no idea where any of those things came from. All I want to do is wander the English countryside in a corset writing stories of unquiet souls tormented and longing with some frightening things running through the center of it all. Somewhere some wires got crossed but isn’t that why I’m writing this blog? A lot of my wires have shorts in them, or at least lost their insulation.

Over the years my expression has changed. I began with drawing and painting and then moved on to writing when I  hit the double digits. Later I moved on to music, photography, and graphic art and then came back around to writing. I do a little of all of these depending on where my head is and how much patience I have. I haven’t really painted in years since with my son, it’s a hard thing to get time to do. The same with the self-portrait photography though there’s nothing quite like getting a character out in that cathartic sort of way, by becoming them.

Writing is similar in that way. I can pace and say what they’re saying aloud, figure out how they’re feeling and why they do what they do and in the meantime I get to both become someone else and explore a side of myself and give it voice.  It’s an interesting process.

Today, I was making a piece of art for a friend as a gift. That’s also a nice thing to do. Crafting is a new form of expression for me. I was going to take up knitting to make something hilarious and wonderful for DG, but I really didn’t have the patience for it. I may, if I calm down, give that another try.

For now, I get a wild hair and go with it in whatever form that takes. Maybe I want to do Queen of Hearts makeup and take pictures in that character, maybe I write a story about my dad. It’s all very random but that’s what expression is about to me. You have something that you need to get out and you do, whatever it takes. Sometimes you make something beautiful and sometimes it’s something frightening.

It’s probably the one thing I’d go mad without, creating. Whether it’s lasting or transitory. whatever you make is a reminder to the world that you were here and tells a small bit of your story, your point of view. Everyone deserves to have a piece of themselves seen and understood. There are a million ways to do it, to make your mark. Every one of them is worth your time and energy and who knows, maybe it might even be appreciated by someone who never knew they could do the same thing or how to say something you were able to. It’s all beautiful…the most beautiful thing in the world.