Living the Fictional Life

What if we are all just characters in a story? What if the fact that I wrote this and that you are reading this is something that was plotted by some unknown author? This means whatever you’re thinking right now is just according to a script. All your thoughts, emotions, knowledge, habits and experiences are all fabricated by the one who holds the pen (or keyboard).

I know this is a hard sell. It is because making it work needs some imagination and broadness of mind. So if you think it’s impossible or not plausible, it’s ok. Limits are understandable. Maybe that was your characterization. Maybe that’s how you were made (or written): A bit special.

Well, this is not my original idea. I encountered this while reading “Sophie’s World.” And I’m sure that some of you have thought of this possibility. I really find the concept curious. The idea that we are just fictions of someone’s mind – it’s surreal. The solid earth that you were once standing on becomes a flimsy paper with printed letters. It could also be annoying to think that we are all just characters in some cheap soap opera or B movie. Or, that we are all just playing second string to some main protagonist we don’t even know who. Maybe it’s me; maybe it’s you. But whatever the case, the idea that you’re not the main character of at least even your own life is a tenfold slap on the face of your ego. If you relate it to LOTR, you’re just a Gondor soldier in the melee that trips and gets trampled on by Orcs and Men, then flattened by an Oliphaunt. You didn’t even get to see, much less hold, The One Ring. You’re not even a character. You’re reduced to a mere background element.

If you still can’t grasp it, try the movies. If you’ve seen “Vanilla Sky,” you should get the drift. If you still can’t, then think of “The Matrix.” They all point to some alternate reality. Maybe the more accurate description is it’s the “real” world, versus the “dream” world. Although “The Matrix” did maintain the autonomy of human will and emotions, it doesn’t change the idea that much of their “normal” world was fabricated. And in this case, you don’t have a “real” world.

So, if we assume that our world is just in the head of some writer or printed ink on paper, what does that mean for us? It has a lot of impact on free will and deliberate actions. I can smack you on the head right now and tell you it’s all part of the script. Then you would smack me right back and tell me it’s also part of the script. It creates a comedic situation. You are not your own person anymore. Rather, you were never a person to begin with. It makes the entire world funny and amusing in a twisted and disturbed way.

All the things that we care about, love, hate, adore, and resent are all just given to us. And we had no choice about it. I guess, we would rebel then. But what if this rebellious feeling is also something designed for us; some form of literary device to move the story along? Isn’t that insulting? You’re just a means to an end. That’s the meaning of your existence.

If you push the idea some more, you’ll find yourself in a wonderful trap. And there’s nothing that you can do about it. Not even Houdini can’t escape from it. And once you’re written down, not even God can save you. The finality of the written word is absolute.

Is there a bright side to this? Of course there is. If we’re all just made up by some person, then that makes this life easier to understand. Not necessarily easier to accept, but comprehension is the first step to resignation (or acceptance, I like it negative). And what could be the best thing about this is you have somebody to blame. If this world is messed up, you have someone to direct your resentment at. Now, that’s a big thing. It gives you at least some peace of mind. And for some, a reason for existence: Something to hate. Of course, you can take this the positive way. You also have someone to be grateful to, someone to worship. If you were written like a James Bond or Tomb Raider character, then you have a lot to be thankful for. If you were written as the Queen Bee, or Silverback Gorilla, then you’ve got it good. At the lowest level of gratefulness, you can be thankful that you existed at all. That out of nothing you became something of some sort.

This can also engender a form of vengeance. That is, if you were allowed by the script to do so. You can start holding a pen yourself and start tormenting your own poor creations just for spite. Since you can’t reach the object of your revenge, you’re left to create some of your own. It can be quite sick once you think about it. But also consider how you can be sane when you’re given a concept of freedom but also exiled from it at the same time. You know what a free person is, only you’re not it. If that don’t get you gritting your teeth, then I give up.

Of course this is just a thought experiment. The eerie thing is, what if it was true?

The Possible Absurdity of Rationality

Being rational is always forwarded as the epitome of human evolution. That man’s capacity for advanced rationality is his main distinction from the rest of the animal kingdom.

What’s not to like about rationality? With rationality, everything is easier. Everything is well-defined, governed by rules and principles. This eliminates much of the confusion and misunderstanding which are the cause of most human suffering.

So, let’s perform a thought experiment. Let’s say that we conduct our social and personal relations through rational means and intercourse, void of the emotional and non-verbal nuances that we find in daily interaction. Let’s assume that we are as we are, only that we are concise, factual, stiff, robot-like, and well, rational.

This is how I imagine it. For example, you have a guy confessing his love for a girl:

Roboguy: Greetings to you, my fellow human of the opposite sex, with the given name of Robogirl. I have some information to present to you which is of utmost importance to my present and future psychological and physical well-being. And perhaps, it could also affect yours as well. Would you spare me some of your time and listen to my report?

Robogirl: Greetings as well, Roboguy, my fellow human of the male sex. Since you mentioned that it is something essential to your well-being and mine, I find it within the bounds of reason and ethics to listen to what you have to report.

Roboguy: I am grateful for your understanding, Robogirl. For an easier understanding of my report, I think it expedient to provide you with the context from which this knowledge emanated from.

For the past weeks I have been constantly bombarded with images of your physical form and facial profile to the point that it interferes with my ability to concentrate on tasks and my capacity for nocturnal repose. Even during your absence, your mental image has been persisting in my consciousness regardless of my will. Another thing to note during your absence is that a feeling of isolation is initiated within me. It seems I am urged by some inexplicable drive to be within the immediate vicinity of your presence. However, when I am within your presence, certain biological functions of mine demonstrate erratic behavior such as: nervousness and slight fear, increased heartbeats and palpitations, and a small amount of dizziness and sweating; then my psyche is also burdened by an unfounded feeling of timidity and embarrassment. All of these with a strangely developed tender regard towards your person, even though that kind of emotional disposition is reserved only for humans related by blood. Together with this disposition of tenderness is the increased proclivity of my imagination to fabricate scenes of you and me together engaging in pleasurable activities and being fully satisfied with each other’s presence.

Moreover, I am consumed with the urge to make your person as one my possessions. Although I do find the idea irrational, as owning another person is an affront to personal autonomy and would constitute as a case of demeaning objectification, but for the sake of accuracy and honesty I mention this fact to you. In conjunction with the urge for possession is an increased sexual desire for your person. And although taken rationally, your person does not entirely match my ideals for a human of the opposite sex, there is a sense of inevitability regarding my feeling of attraction towards your person.

Given all of these symptoms, with much analysis and comparison with previous reports from resource books, such as romance literature, and popular audio-visual media, such as adolescent television programs and soap operas, I concluded that I am harboring the emotion of love towards your person. As such, it is within the definition of being in the state of love that I make this fact known to the subject of love, and inquire if the said subject also has the same disposition towards my person. If not, then at the least to be granted permission to engage in the act of courting to engender the same feeling in the said subject.

With all that previous information serving as premises, I now declare that I am in the state of love towards you, Robogirl. Do you harbor the same emotions towards my person? And if not, will you allow me to engage in the act of courtship?

Robogirl: First of all, I am grateful for your feelings. Also, I have listened intently to your report and I do believe that you have sufficient grounds for calling that emotion love. The reason why I state this is due to the fact that I also have the similar experiences regarding your person and has also made consultation with the same research materials. That stated, it’s no longer rational to engage in courtship. I declare as well my state of being in love with your person.

Roboguy: I am grateful as well for your resonance with my emotion. I believe this situation merits an affectionate contact of our lips. Would you permit us engaging in such an act?

Robogirl: I believe it is but what is proper and expected in this situation. I do allow your proposed action to be executed. But an additional question: should we need to embrace or is lip contact just enough?

Roboguy: If it would not cause you discomfort, I would prefer the addition of skin contact as it engenders closeness and satisfies the physical urges for tactile contact.

Robogirl: You have a good point, Roboguy. We should ensure efficiency in the relationship. But even so, may I remind you that there should be limits and phases in our conduct of this relationship. I would permit an embrace, but the usage of tongue is prohibited. Perhaps after the second date, that would be optimal.

Roboguy: Of course, rules and limits are a must. So is planning. How about sexual intercourse?

Robogirl: There are several factors to consider such as culture and religious mores. But personally, if we achieve the right amount of emotional harmony and enough alcoholic consumption to lower our inhibitions by the third date, then that would also be optimal.

Roboguy: I have no objections to that. So, should we engage in the kiss?

Robogirl: Let us proceed so we can continue on to other matters. Remember to meet halfway, and to close your eyes.

Roboguy: Of course, that is but rational.

And so, the two kissed. It’s quite romantic in its own way.

I would have had a version where the guy was dumped, perhaps that would have been more interesting. But if that was the way that we did life, it makes me smile. It does have a certain charm to it. What do you think?

When Looking Good Doesn’t Look So Good

The problem with looking good is that you’ve got to keep looking good. It’s a vicious cycle. It’s running just to stay in place. Look good one day, and you have to look good until you die. Just let up one day, then all that effort in the past go down the drain. Just show one moment of ugliness and you’re exiled immediately to the country of the hideous. You become guilty of deception; of hiding what you truly are. You’re now a conniving, lying, delusional megalomaniac who thinks you’re something you’re not.

Exaggerated? Maybe. But it’s true nonetheless. The mildest criticism is “bad hair day.” But deep inside, you think that that person is not as cute as you thought that person was. The image (or illusion) was shattered. That person was just human. Then you shake your head and raise your fists to heaven.

This fact, which I had to think about for some time, is instinctive to women. Why else would they have a compact mirror, blush-on, face powder, lipstick, brush, comb, cologne, lotion and some other cosmetic contraption stuffed in their little purses all the time? You’d think that their bags or purses are like Doraemon’s pocket with all the things stuffed in there. (Of course, not all women are like that, but I would assume that at least a compact mirror is universal. It’s like a proof of womanhood. Like they’re born with it.) Then, think about why women take a long time when they go to the latrine. It’s possible that half the total time men spend on a date is spent waiting for a girl to get out of the girls' room. Also think about why women take a long time to bathe, dress and get ready to go out. It’s instinctive to women: You’ve got to look good, and more important, you’ve got to keep looking good.

To be fair, men are not much different. Men have their hair gels and aftershaves. They also dress up to the latest fashion. But I think what’s distinctive to men is buffing up. “Check my biceps, baby” – perhaps that’s the closest to sprucing up men can get. Men are natural slobs, so it’s hard to think of a guy being cosmetic. But they say there’s a new brand of man around. The “Metrosexual” male. I just shrug my shoulders and sigh. You just can’t get it out of your head that, maybe, just maybe, those guys are gay. Maybe. And I can be dead wrong. But with my very limited social circle, all the metrosexuals I know turned out to be gay. (They just didn’t have the courage to come out at first. Chalk one up for liberal society and individual freedom.) But the main difference between men and women on the matter is that men do not exactly know that they have to keep looking good. When you tell it to them, they’ll go: “Really? I haven’t thought of it like that.” Then you can just imagine women going: “Duh!”

Regarding this, I remember Calvin’s (Calvin and Hobbes) parents talking about how the media and society is built around making people unhappy with themselves. All those cosmetic commercials and ads, then you see how pretty, handsome, sexy, or flawless that star on TV is, then look at yourself in the mirror – it can be quite depressing. They’re just promoting a product, but subliminally, what they’re telling you is: “You don’t look like me, ergo, you’re ugly. You must be miserable. Buy my stuff, and perhaps you’ll be like me. Then, probably, you’ll be happy.” It’s quite funny. You’re too fat, too thin, your hair is too short, too long. You have dry skin, you have dark skin, you have pale skin. But at least these ads point out a simple truth. That we are human and that we are not perfect. And more important, that we vehemently deny this fact everyday of our lives. We buy stuff to keep the denial and illusion up.

One can object: “It’s just a matter of grooming and personal hygiene. It doesn’t have to be as bad as you say it is.” True. But I’m too stupid to draw the line between being well-groomed to wanting to look good. Maybe the line is blurred. Grooming for me is taking care of yourself so that you don’t stink, and don’t get sick because you stink. Like I said, I’m pretty stupid on these matters. I guess I’ll let you tell me what is what one of these days.

So am I saying to stop looking good? Hell no! If women stopped prettying up themselves, it’s a terrible world to live in. It’s a world not worth living in. So, what am I really saying? Did I just contradict myself? I don’t know. Right now, I don’t really care.

Work, Children and Pets

It can’t be helped that some time after joining the workforce, you’d long for the time when you were a child. You think back of the time when you’re somehow, quite free to do as you please, more often than not. The time when stuff was free; where you just throw tantrums or threaten to run away from home to get what you wanted. And when you compare it with the present, you somehow regret the loss of that kind of freedom. Now that you’re all grown up, you do get your way most of the times, but it comes at a price. The ironic thing is you need to be a slave of some sort before you can enjoy your freedom.

That’s why, in a way, we envy children. They just play, eat, sleep, and whine all day. The only drawback is, being a child is like being a pet. Well, to be accurate, just a notch higher than a pet. If you’re a child, you need to be cute. Have to be cute. You need to be “precocious”, adorable and a “bundle of sunshine and happiness.” If you’re not, then you’re useless. You’re a mistake – a lamentable example of bad gene combination. But this is where children are a notch higher than pets. If you have a mangy, dull, and lethargic dog as a pet, aren’t you tempted to kick it, even just once? Imagine coming home after a tough day at work and that’s what greets you. I’ll bet you would kick that mutt just to feel better. But, will you do the same to an ugly child? Of course, not! Children are like pets, but not pets. If you kicked a child – no matter how ugly and unlovable – you’re sick. You need to be reported to the Retard Extermination Brigade for summary execution.

Now, think of the way we interact with pets and the way we interact with children. Aren’t they quite similar? Like pets, we teach children tricks. Of course, not the likes of jumping through rings of fire or balancing a ball at the tip of the nose, or clapping flippers while swimming backwards – children are too inept for those. We only teach children simple things. We teach them “Close-Open”, “Clap Your Hands”, “Smile”, “Jump”, “Catch”, “Bye-bye”, “Flying Kiss”, or move their hips spasmodically to the latest crappy song from a noontime variety show. And once they learn those tricks, we show them off. We call for a clan meeting. We demand a neighborhood assembly. We aim to trounce the children of neighbors and relatives. It’s like a dog show (or dog fight) for humans.

Then, think of the way how we pick up children’s pooh, give them a bath, feed them, and nurse them when they’re sick. Not much different from a pet, right? And when you give milk supplement or vitamins to your child, it’s just like getting Alpo for a dog or Thunderbird Max for your fighting cock. It’s strangely similar. The only difference is that you don’t put your child up for stud service or sign the child up for a cockfight.

Another aspect wherein children are like pets is that children get to eat for free, but in exchange they get to be caged and wear a leash. You remember right? No more TV, brush your teeth, eat your vegetables, go inside it’s already dark, don’t play with your father’s gun and stop shooting the neighbor and his dog, smoking is not allowed till you’re ten, stabbing classmates with a pencil is bad, don't date that boy, he's your father's toy – you know, things of that sort. The only things children aren’t being dictated at are involuntary body functions. Things like breathing, pissing, digesting, circulating blood, etc. But the rest is fair game for parents. Isn’t this the source of most conflicts during adolescence? You try so hard to tell parents that you’re no longer a pet; that you’re no longer the cute child that you once were. That you’re bigger and smarter, that you can handle yourself. You vehemently and emphatically state that you don’t like being told what to do, yet still feel entitled to the free board, lodging, education, allowance and health coverage. You aggressively assert your evolution from a pet that was at least entertaining, into a parasitic, know-it-all freeloader. The essence of adolescence (Oh, such fond memories they bring!).

And of course, there are a lot more similarities out there. I'm sure you can come up with one.

Looking at it from this angle, would it be better to be a slave or a pet? The answer, I don’t know. Better view it with a sense of resignation since you’re all grown up. There’s nothing you can do about it. You can just continue with your slave and toil, get a member of the opposite sex and together create a pet of your own.