I am sure it has been seen: What 3 fictional characters describe you?
I would like to think I should have chosen some fancy-free, fun characters. Some people describe me as such.
But maybe I took it a little darker than it needed to be. Or did I?
I think most folks are their own worst critics. I am not excluding myself from those folks. I am part of that group, even as I call “them” those “folks”.
When you look in that mirror, what do you see?
When you look in that mirror, is it today? Is it tomorrow? Is it yesterday?
Let me back-pedal if you will. I have a sibling that has a very sick fascination with the Myers-Briggs. I am not going to hot-link it because its all the rage online. Just Google.
My sibling is obsessed with the results, but as such, finds a deviance in them given the day she obsessively retakes the test.
Maybe my choice in fictional characters will change, on a brighter note. But they are fairly true to character despite the deviance in day-to-day character.
Hamlet: I chose the Ethan Hawke version because, well, the leotard skull holding old guy just wasn’t doing it for me. Wasn’t the best performance, but far from the worst. My primary reason for choosing Hamlet was: selfish. I am not going to lie, I am one selfish motherfucker.
Hamlet is also a bit (maybe a lot) off his rocker. I hate to admit, but maybe it is a sign of quite the opposite: I may be quite mad. I might not be; who admits such a thing? Well I know crazy never admits and always denies being crazy right? And crazy is subjective right?
I read somewhere, “Ignorance is bliss.” Is that a taunt? Before I go saying things I might regret (I should ctrl+A and delete NOW!!!) I have noticed that those who don’t fret or ponder too deeply seem happier. Maybe this is another case of the “grass is greener”. Maybe.
I do know that I am quite selfish. I will not be the first to admit it, for looking bad, but really I do matter the most to myself. I am a full-fledged jerk. In the long looks I have in the mirror, in the long runs I take, in the quiet still of the night when I can’t sleep; only I matter the most. And I know my thoughts take me to where I need to be; where I am on top. To where my happiness matters the most.
In my mind I have already calculated how I will survive future hardship. I have already built callouses where they do not belong, where they may never well rest. My aunt’s death-iversary just passed. I don’t feel much about it. I think I should cut this hair I was growing for a woman that might have needed a wig. It’s not going to give me closure. I don’t think I needed it. I recall the moment I knew there was no return for my aunt. And I feel like a dirty Peeping Tom for it.
Those papers were on the side stand and I picked them up and read them. Had it been a lay-man those papers would have meant nothing. Those papers described a death there was no going back from.
Shame on me for reading them, but I wouldn’t have had it any other way: selfish! I am not going to say that the reason I chose Hamlet was because of my aunt’s death. I could name so many reasons. So many reasons not connected to my aunt in any way, shape or form.
Which brings me to my favorite character: Bender. How more off the cuff could one get? Hates humans? Can I not attest to my hate for breeding any louder?! Has it not caused some rifts, detachments or resentment in my current situation? Bender has also been known to be a womanizer. Yes, though I am a woman, I can ize! And I have. And quite frankly it has felt amazing! No, get your head out of the toilet. It feels liberating for a woman, to pursue and for lack of a better term: conquer.
No, I don’t mean I need to conquer like a warlord. No, I don’t mean to conquer like a feminazi. I don’t actually feel I have conquered at all. I have enjoyed the carnal pleasures. When I wanted, with whom I wanted, and for as long as I felt the enjoyment needed to take place. If that makes me a female version of a “womanizer” so be it.
Bender, much like myself is an avid drinker. To the point of no return; if you will. And I am an avid drinker! Maybe it’s a problem, maybe it’s a problem for everyone else. But at this point I feel it may be a problem for some but not for all. Here is where the conundrum begins: I have one faithful, we will call them associates, associate telling me that #2 associate does not care to deal with me because of “their” fear of my drinking. Associate #1 is a daily drinker that can get quite grumpy when not drinking. Associate #2 has had to be saved due to overindulgence.
It’s like an algebra problem: how do you save associate 2 while keeping associate 1 happy while going west at 50 miles an hour?
From where I am standing, remember I am quite selfish and will let my(Hamlet Style) friends tank before I do, which associate shall I represent?
Which brings me to Begbie (rather Francis). I am not going to lie or beat around the bush: my “friends” hate me. There, I said it. Those who don’t hate me don’t see the ugly I really am. Francis is really a loyal to friend; as am I. However, unlike Begbie, I know that my friends don’t like me. I have no qualms with this as long as it does not get in my way (selfish). No, I don’t like what you are wrapped up in. Yes, an addiction of sorts. No, not anything of major importance. But it has become important in our lifetime.
Letting go has been the easiest thing in my life to do. It doesn’t get easier than this. The friends( or enemies) did all the hard work for you. As easy as it has been to slough off the old and put on the new; you got it wrong.
I still, foolishly, will care and represent my “friends”.
All of this, a rouse, an unexplained problem. And now I am just rambling. Maybe a different day will yield a different set of answers for the question posed. Maybe Myers-Briggs isn’t too bad an obsession to be had if it helps people realize that no one is static. Day to day who we are and how we are changes with our daily experiences.