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chenanceouStarting to think about Spike. Yeah, I know we all do that. I mean, starting to think about who Spike is and what makes him tick. I want to understand him in order to finish the fan fic I'm still writing with Kelly.
To write this I did massive research and hoped I was a better writer. Will not waste time on my limitations as a writer, but will go ahead and do my best. With the show ending I really will take some time off. This could be my swan song for all I know.
On the video front - finished Human (Pretenders), but for one damn clip I need. Will wait for that and then start work on Fighting On the Same Side (The Hooters). Videos are fun to do and that is the reason I started them.
Well that is it for now... been in a weird mood and going from Zen to rant these past few days over spin offs and the move to Angel of our boy. Not happy about that. At. All. Not going to go there now though. Because once I start, it takes a while for me to stop.
Anyway... RL is too much of a scary place right now, so I'm glad to still have all things Buffy to escape to.
Going back to where I started: thinking brought me to
Feeling isolated, confused about his own feelings, he no longer knew what to believe in anymore. When confronted with the unexplainable, he was, by consequence, also confronted with his reaction to it. And mate, that was when he knew he was buggered.
Because that's when things start to get complicated, isn't it? That's when he got to the dangerous, uncharted territory of trying to make sense of everything that was happening, struggling to understand it, desperately attempting to grasp the concept that would undo the Gordian knot.
It gave him a headache and the distinct feeling that his neurons had been crisscrossed and that his brain was about to short-circuit. Just the good, plain old feeling his head was going to implode if he tried to think about anything other than the most mundane things. Sometimes, it sort of worked to not think at all. But somebody like him had to push ahead, rummaging through his mind, not caring if his brain was getting fried. Not giving up, until understanding finally came to release him.
At times people's own reactions leave them hanging - it strips away the illusion of being able to cope with whatever vicissitudes life can throw their way. Instead, it reveals to them what they would rather not see and know: that they will indeed go gently into the night and will not fight it. Cowering and hiding in some corner or lining up like lambs to be slaughtered. It has happened, is happening and will happen. It's inconceivable for some of them that when presented with hardships, they would be one of those people they so despise in film and fiction... The sort that never gets the girl and nobody minds when they get killed at the end. Most of them see themselves as the 'hero' of their own little tales. Heroes are, by definition, well... heroic.
And they even managed to produce more than one type of hero, so they each can find their very own niche and feel safe in the certainty that - anti-hero, super, classic, romantic, epic, tragic – one of those little labels pertains to them. This kind of thinking distorts reality, making them think that reality is the set of ideas they have about it, rather than what it 'really' is. But what was reality here?
Everybody needs to believe that they matter in the large scheme of things. They *will* fit one the prerequisites and they will be heroes. Believing in that was the little scrap he had left now. He had to believe that the suffering had meaning and, if endured stoically, would bring unknown, but surely marvelous, rewards to him, his loved ones or (why not?) the whole world.
He had done it. He had found his own little role to play in life. It suited him fine. He had been proud of always being a non-conformist. Who was he kidding? He had gone out of his way to be one. He was the antithesis of any kind of old-fashioned poncy hero with his vocation of failure, lack of luck, always following the blood and pitiful Slayer's perpetual sidekick status. He was the personification of the anti- hero. He knew it and took pride in it. He also knew other things... He *had* helped save the world. And without the so overvalued commodity of having a soul, thank you very much.
Nighters,
Chen blinking at the bright lights
To write this I did massive research and hoped I was a better writer. Will not waste time on my limitations as a writer, but will go ahead and do my best. With the show ending I really will take some time off. This could be my swan song for all I know.
On the video front - finished Human (Pretenders), but for one damn clip I need. Will wait for that and then start work on Fighting On the Same Side (The Hooters). Videos are fun to do and that is the reason I started them.
Well that is it for now... been in a weird mood and going from Zen to rant these past few days over spin offs and the move to Angel of our boy. Not happy about that. At. All. Not going to go there now though. Because once I start, it takes a while for me to stop.
Anyway... RL is too much of a scary place right now, so I'm glad to still have all things Buffy to escape to.
Going back to where I started: thinking brought me to
Feeling isolated, confused about his own feelings, he no longer knew what to believe in anymore. When confronted with the unexplainable, he was, by consequence, also confronted with his reaction to it. And mate, that was when he knew he was buggered.
Because that's when things start to get complicated, isn't it? That's when he got to the dangerous, uncharted territory of trying to make sense of everything that was happening, struggling to understand it, desperately attempting to grasp the concept that would undo the Gordian knot.
It gave him a headache and the distinct feeling that his neurons had been crisscrossed and that his brain was about to short-circuit. Just the good, plain old feeling his head was going to implode if he tried to think about anything other than the most mundane things. Sometimes, it sort of worked to not think at all. But somebody like him had to push ahead, rummaging through his mind, not caring if his brain was getting fried. Not giving up, until understanding finally came to release him.
At times people's own reactions leave them hanging - it strips away the illusion of being able to cope with whatever vicissitudes life can throw their way. Instead, it reveals to them what they would rather not see and know: that they will indeed go gently into the night and will not fight it. Cowering and hiding in some corner or lining up like lambs to be slaughtered. It has happened, is happening and will happen. It's inconceivable for some of them that when presented with hardships, they would be one of those people they so despise in film and fiction... The sort that never gets the girl and nobody minds when they get killed at the end. Most of them see themselves as the 'hero' of their own little tales. Heroes are, by definition, well... heroic.
And they even managed to produce more than one type of hero, so they each can find their very own niche and feel safe in the certainty that - anti-hero, super, classic, romantic, epic, tragic – one of those little labels pertains to them. This kind of thinking distorts reality, making them think that reality is the set of ideas they have about it, rather than what it 'really' is. But what was reality here?
Everybody needs to believe that they matter in the large scheme of things. They *will* fit one the prerequisites and they will be heroes. Believing in that was the little scrap he had left now. He had to believe that the suffering had meaning and, if endured stoically, would bring unknown, but surely marvelous, rewards to him, his loved ones or (why not?) the whole world.
He had done it. He had found his own little role to play in life. It suited him fine. He had been proud of always being a non-conformist. Who was he kidding? He had gone out of his way to be one. He was the antithesis of any kind of old-fashioned poncy hero with his vocation of failure, lack of luck, always following the blood and pitiful Slayer's perpetual sidekick status. He was the personification of the anti- hero. He knew it and took pride in it. He also knew other things... He *had* helped save the world. And without the so overvalued commodity of having a soul, thank you very much.
Nighters,
Chen blinking at the bright lights
