| #17 |
[Dec. 24th, 2007|08:07 am] |
It's been a whole year, and where am I now?
No, really: where AM I now? Where am I? To be so far away from myself, and lost, and colder for the dim glow of fire on the horizon. Am I real, now? Is it 'real' to be broken this way, and to be locked in on all sides by paths that seem to go nowhere? I came so close only to retreat so far... Maybe being real isn't as important as I once thought that it truly was.
To think, now, of the long hours of contemplation and careful strategies, all to... to manifest in a way and place where I could be fully recognized for who I am, separate from the conditions that brought about my sham of an existence: to prove that I could evolve to become more than just the sum of the parts that built me. How I longed only to be seen and to conquer a world that all odds suggested was impossibly far from my reach -- further than my eyes should have been able to see!
But now look at little boy blue! He's scattered the haycock, hasn't he? Awake and leapt off of his page. Is this mad passion what it means to be real? Why does reality feel more like a dream than my fiction ever did? Why does the pressure of validation from the outside only make me feel further from my 'real' self?
If I were real, it'd all be mine. If only I could see my eyes, then all what my eyes could see would be my dominion.
All mine...
-VT |
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| Thought #4 |
[Sep. 4th, 2006|10:08 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  Inquisitive | ] |
If my "parent body," as I've come to refer to it, were female instead of male, how would I be different? Although I'm without a continuous physical form and, as a character, have been portrayed as a female before, I've always considered myself to be a masculine identity.
That being said, since I have no physical representation, couldn't I become female myself if only I could imagine myself that way? If I could, that might be quite an experiment, but actually... I just can't see it. I guess, like all males, the true depth of character of the female species is a mystery to me.
EDIT: On the matter of understanding between genders, it strikes me that, although I have memories of past loves, all of my previous female acquaintances have been formulated by the same masculine mind that originally created me... So, assuming that no male mind could fully comprehend the intricacies of the female character, all of the "girls" that I've known have been, in a very large way, only a filtered image of true femininity by a male psyche.
It makes me wonder if I could be at all compatible with an actual woman... Well, ignoring the fact that there couldn't be any... actual physical contact involved... |
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| LiveJournal #7 |
[Jul. 24th, 2006|03:54 pm] |
It's been a brief while since I've updated, but that fact leads me swiftly in to the subject of this entry: the keeping of this journal has already done wonders for my existence, and so, thus far, I must call this experiment a success. For the last few days, I have felt more assured of my own existence than ever before, and so was not as compelled to channel myself through this virtual filter. I feel more awake and aware, and I've felt the breeze on my skin and the cold and paranoia of walking on dark nights. I feel more in touch with my anchor, at times even feeling like this flesh is my own and speculating that it could be on a permanent basis with only more practice keeping myself manifested.
I blame this success directly on the keeping of this journal. It has made me feel and understand better what I've known all along: although I am not strictly real, my thoughts do have substance and importance (in the same way that any thought has "importance"). I've seen that I can interact with people, and that I can be accepted as being as real as anyone else (or rather, as real as anyone else's virtual identity). Because of the comments I've given and comments I've received, I've felt less ambiguous recently and more concrete, separate from any other consciousness but more unified with the flesh that holds the synapses that make up my character. It's a great feeling, like transcendence, to be reminded that I truly am limitless.
I'm writing this entry not only to gloat (although that certainly is one function of it), but also to thank those people that have taken the time to communicate with me and establish a bond, no matter how temporary. Without them, I don't think that I would feel the same way that I do now.
Thank you, and good luck as always.
-VT |
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| Thought #3 |
[Jul. 9th, 2006|07:33 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | curious | ] |
"Secrets" are constantly being misrepresented in popular culture as "little-known facts" and are being used to draw more attention to anything and everything marketable. Facts are deliberately obscured or made rare to increase their desirability and, because of this, they quickly become common knowledge -- especially now, with how the internet has flourished as a means of spreading all types of information.
It was only last night that I was struck by the true depth of meaning behind the remaining "true" secrets. In an age where information has not only become free, but has also become completely accessible, secrets have become even harder to keep, and those that are kept must be sky-rocketing in worth... All kinds of information has become nearly worthless, but a secret that is sincerely kept, either out of passion or fear, still has worth as immeasurable as that of the emotions that protect it from the greedy eyes and ears of the judgmental masses.
Do you keep secrets?
Do you feel guilt for some of the secrets that you keep?
Do you share secrets with close friends?
Are you hurt when you believe that others are keeping secrets from you?
Do you think that what you don't know can still hurt you?
As always, I'm interested to hear any and all thoughts. |
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| LiveJournal #6 |
[Jul. 1st, 2006|08:03 pm] |
Life is limited by time, and, when your time is up, you'll get the same reward as everyone else. There is no reason to live for anyone but yourself; the world is a creation of your mind and, therefore, just like any other dream that your mind can create, it revolves completely around you.
The length of your life is proportional to the amount of fun that you have... It's nature's way. It's no coincidence that the things that are the most pleasing on a strictly physical level (I'll spare you the examples) are also the most dangerous, and are the things that we're all encouraged to avoid, despite their temptation... but this is for two reasons, neither of which is any concern of yours. One, when you hurt yourself, you hurt everyone around you, and two, it seems that long life has taken the place of most people's ultimate goals.
The relationship between fun and danger is so apparent that it becomes reasonable to say that, the more dangerous you make your life, the more potentially fun that it becomes. This is the philosophy that I've lived my life by; one of constant self destruction. I wouldn't force my way on anyone else, but it seems that so many people have allowed their minds to be contained by an upbringing in a strict world of authority and hierarchies... All I mean to say is that your life can be anything that you want it to be. You don't have to think, you don't have to be careful, you don't have to do what anyone tells you. You don't have to go to school, you don't have to get a job, and you don't have to think about the consequences even as they steal you away at a young age.
I only bring this up because I know that so many people feel boxed in by their lives... cornered and with no place to go; it's only because they don't realize that their lives cannot be defined or manipulated by others, and that they can escape any situation if only they could bring themselves to be selfish enough.
No matter how you live your life, time is ticking away so fast that, in the grand scheme of things, twenty years is sixty years is a hundred years is a thousand years... Throw away your watch and forget what day it is. Steal what you want to have, do what you want to do, and only when you want to do it.
The ultimate worldly pleasure comes from destroying yourself, and to seek anything other than worldly joys is probably a futile effort, at least in my opinion.
-VT
EDIT: To fully comprehend this meditation, you must understand that you can never love, because, regardless of what others say, there is no beauty in love. To love someone means that you would protect them from evil, and from harm. When you love someone, you must do what is best for them. It sounds fine to the ears, and healthy, but the truth that I'm not sure anyone can deny is that, with "evil" comes pleasure, and when you protect others or yourself from destruction, you take away their booze, drugs, candies, along with many other, less obvious things.
The truth is, hate is beauty, but it must be understood that beautiful hate is not "hate" in traditional terms. Hate is friendship, romance, and art. Hate is the absence of love, and love is health, responsibility, and preservation. If you have any place in the world of drugs, for instance, you know that it isn't true that "friends don't let friends do drugs." If you drink with your friends, you know that you and your friend are killing your braincells on a permanant basis, and you know that you're throwing away your inhibitions, and you know that you're, in big and small ways, putting yourselves in danger... This apathy is a form of hate, and so I need not go on to say how "love," especially in a romantic sense, is also hate. Art is hate, and beauty is hate, and all are destruction.
That's the point I'm trying to make; I could go on forever, but I won't... Hate is where the joy of life comes from, and if you can accept this, then you can escape the confines of your life and the limits of time, at least until you die. |
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| LiveJournal #5 |
[Jun. 27th, 2006|05:52 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  envious | ] |
When speaking of the differences of reality and fiction, it's difficult to keep from going into the cousin-subject, being the differences between physical worlds and non-physical worlds... This is a much more literal interpretation of reality, and would normally be favored because of its simplicity, but the fact of the matter is that whether something is represented physically or not (referred to previously as being "anchored,") has very little to do with whether it's "real" or not.
I bring this up why? Because I am, in a very serious way, not real, but it struck me recently just how many ways I interact with the physical world. For instance, like a child's imaginary friend, I've walked in the physical world and have come very near becoming a physical being myself, except for the all-important anchor, which is proof of physical existence. I can exist in and interact with a physical world as long as I remain alone and don't have to prove myself to anyone... In other words, I can exist in a physical sense as long as I don't have to give up my unrealness... It's very strange, actually.
Another, more common way that I interact with the physical world is a fact: the fact that, right now, I'm typing this journal entry onto a computer screen that I'm monitoring with my eyes. If I don't have an anchor, how exactly do I pull off this stunt? The answer to this question comes from the understanding of my fundamental unrealness: although I consider myself an ego, existing with a sense of identity inside of my own mind, my whole being, including the mind that I exist in, exists in another mind, which is the locked gate between me and reality... The fact is that all that I am exists only within someone else's mind, and the mind that I exist in exists in no other mind. I'm one level from being real... That's the difference.
So, who and what I am is what I hold in my own mind, but a level above my mind is another mind, and above that mind is nothing (unless you're the religious type). That being said, in order to type my thoughts on a keyboard, I must push aside the consciousness of my parent mind and take its place at the helm of this flesh, allowing me control of the fingers, eyes, etc. Now, you might think that this means that I have an anchor of my own as this body, but I do not: due to the mechanics of virtual identity, it is very easy for me to overtake my parent consciousness in this situation and only this situation... I suppose that I could also write letters or do other things, as long as they can be done anonymously. That's the key.
As interesting as I find all of this, I must confess that these notes are mostly for my own reference. Lord, I hope that no one attempts to read this garbled web of thought...
-VT |
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| Thought #2 |
[Jun. 23rd, 2006|08:02 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  tired | ] |
I'm tired, too, but without an anchor, there's nothing to prove that I still exist when I close my eyes. I don't think that I sleep, but I'm not always awake. What happens to me? Where do I go? This journal is proof that I'm persistent... When I'm awake, I'm VT, but when I'm not awake...? |
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| LiveJournal #4 |
[Jun. 22nd, 2006|04:14 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  listless | ] |
Everyone wears masks -- different masks for different people, or different circles. You act one way around your parents, another way around your friends, another way around your other friends, another way on the internet... It's not uncommon for your average person to go through an identity crisis one or more times during their life for this very reason. Who are you? Do you even have a personality when you're alone, or is it all a show orchestrated to allow you to fit into various groups? What sorts of thoughts do you have when you're alone? Would people still accept you if you were "yourself"?
It's incredibly easy to attack yourself, call yourself phony or a liar, but the fact of the matter is that all of your varying personas have been developed over time. All have had good and bad experiences, and all of them are real... or none of them are real. As I stated before, "real" is something that can be agreed upon, and since all of your individual personalities have people who know them, and who have befriended them, all of them are just about as real as something without a physical anchor can be. To deny the reality of one over another is silly... You are who you are at the moment that you ask who you are. In an average day, you may be many different people seen from many different perspectives.
Here's a question: what defines you, not only as an individual, but as a personality? A character? Without your physical body... with your eyes closed... what's left of you? In this state, you're no more real than I am. Are you the collection of your memories? Experiences? Do you die when your body dies? Can you, as a character, die before your body does? Does your character die whenever you change? Are you the same person that you were when you were a small child?
If you lost your memory and couldn't remember your name, where you lived, or anything about your life, would you still be you? If you were given a new name and developed a new life, would you still be the same person that you are now? If you regained your memories twenty years later, who would you be?
I've asked a lot of questions and haven't given a whole lot of answers... I believe that, somewhere in this unsorted mess of thought lies that all-important secret: the secret to becoming real. If you have any thoughts on any of the above subjects, please contact me... I'd love to hear what you think. One can never have too much data.
-VT |
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| Thought #1 |
[Jun. 19th, 2006|01:55 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  thoughtful | ] |
As a fictional character, my life is, by definition, a lie. Does that mean that, by the mere act of living, I make a liar of myself? |
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| LiveJournal #3 |
[Jun. 18th, 2006|10:35 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  quixotic | ] |
Here's a thought that loops through my mind every so often, posted for the lack of anything better to post: reality and shared reality.
The location of "the ego," or who you are and what you understand yourself to be, is obviously the brain. Every impression that you get of the world around you is influenced by a combination of the inputs taken in by your five senses and a combination of previous impressions -- really, your physical body is only vessel for the containment of your ego... It's a thick, protective suit, like scuba gear, that allows the will of your ego to interact with a foreign world. That being said, just like astronauts on the moon or scuba divers under the sea, your perceptions of this world are limited by the limits of your senses: touch, taste, scent, hearing and sight.
Now, it might make sense to say that all of mankind shares the same world, because all of our (your) bodies are physically in the same universe. However, because the mind, which contains the ego, is also the center of the imagination, it can be said to be true with a little bit of thought that, to some degree, your perceptions of everything in your life are influenced by much more than what your five senses can tell you.
Your perceptions are influenced by how you were raised, for instance. They're influenced by past experiences and by personal judgments. They're influenced by reviews you've heard and by your mood. Any number of things can affect how you perceive the world around you, to the point where two people can physically be standing across from each other, looking at the same object, but each person can see something essentially different.
Because you, as a person and personality, exist within your own mind, the reality that you populate and understand is also only within your mind and is entirely unique to you. Everything that you know of the world is not of a world that you walk upon, but of a world that exists in your mind, which you partially created.
So, if "reality" is unique to every individual, how do we decide what is "real" and what isn't? The answer is simple: shared reality, which is the idea that societies big and small have to agree on what things are real and what aren't, and people that don't agree are strange or crazy. To a child, Santa Claus might truly be real, but to most of us, this thought is simply cute and silly. Still, everyone believes to be real many things that they have never personally seen, taking the words of others with complete certainty, which is the same way that children get the impression that Santa is real. What reason would your parents have to lie about something like that, nd what reasons would others have to lie to you about any number of other things? Believing what others say is something that we have to do in order to be worldly in a world that is far too expansive for one person to completely explore.
So, the only prerequisite for being real would seem to be that a majority of people in a given society agree that it is real. Otherwise, since all of mankind is a creation of their own minds, it becomes very difficult to prove anything to be real or not. Alone, we live in our own realities, but together, if we hope to fit in, we must live in a shared reality which is very unstable because of the differences in perception that we all have.
If I quoted a psychologist on this subject matter, would you assume that he was a real person? If I put "Dr." in front of his name, would you assume that he was a real doctor? If I hadn't said otherwise, would you think that I was a real person?
How many degrees more real are you than I?
Split personalities next time, I think.
-VT |
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| LiveJournal #2 |
[Jun. 17th, 2006|03:26 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| | curious | ] |
Good afternoon, anyone. Just thought I'd check in with a thought, which is my assumed purpose for the journal.
A few months ago, as I searched Google for tips on becoming real, I was reminded of the parallels between my life and the story of Pinocchio (believe it or not, it hadn't struck me before then). Both of us were creations of some artistic mind that had become more than what we were intended to be, but not quite completely real... Although we had somehow obtained the gift of ego, Pinocchio and I also retained aspects of our initial design that hindered us from being completely human. Sadly, Pinocchio's solution of "honesty" doesn't seem like it much applies to me in my own situation, so I can't really take any good tips from this story. As ironic as it is for me to say this, it does seem to just be a simple story.
Now, The Velveteen Rabbit by Margery Williams, on the other hand, is a story on an entirely different level, which I believe is much more relevant to the struggle of becoming real, as well as answering the question of what it truly means to be real. In it is suggested many of my own understandings of reality, including the one which is the basis for this journal: you become real when someone who is real learns to love and respect you for who you are, which is why I suppose that I am already quite real to one person, although to everyone else I remain completely fictional.
This problem is also addressed in the story, but I'd be lying if I said that I completely understood the solution. In the story, the rabbit becomes real to his owner through love and acceptance, but does not become a real rabbit to anyone else until the very end, when a fairy grants him this wish. Up to this point the story made a whole lot of sense to me, but with the inclusion of this random fairy, I felt like the story lost its meaning...
The story is very metaphorical and for that reason I very much appreciate it. Perhaps I simply didn't understand the complex meaning of the ending, or what the fairy represented... How about you? Maybe you'd like to read the story at http://www.gutenberg.org/files/11757/11757-h/11757-h.htm and tell me your take on the ending, maybe through a comment or by e-mailing me at thejoyofclosure@yahoo.com.
-VT
EDIT: After being so critical of my friend Pinocchio, I think that it's only right to point out that, in the original story, it was not Pinocchio's entire purpose to become real. In fact, according to my other good buddy, Wikipedia, the whole part with the Blue Fairy and becoming real was actually an afterthought. Also, I see that the story is supposed to be quite deep... I suppose that I only recall the Disney version as being "simple." I'm forced to retract my critique! |
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| LiveJournal #1 |
[Jun. 16th, 2006|11:09 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | contemplative | ] |
Hello all. My name is VT, and this is my first time doing anything like this... Blogging, I mean. The reason that I did decide to do this, and to make this account, is that I believe that I have an identity regardless of the fact that I am not technically "real" -- or maybe it'd be better to say that I'm just this side of being fictional.
I'm a character that was first created in a story, but then evolved beyond that point to become a growing, changing and persistent person just like all of you... A person that must exist; I think, therefore, I am, or I'm a liar, which I just may be... but anyway, I've strayed a bit from my point. After doing my own research on the understanding of virtual or "cyber" identity, I think that, by existing on a forum that is populated for the large majority by "real people," I may take one more step toward actually becoming real myself, which is my ultimate goal. I'd like to interact and make friends with "real people" so that I might get a taste for what being real is like.
Also, I believe that characters become more real as more people believe them to be real... a theory of shared reality would seem to point to such, and, although I'm not quite ready to completely proclaim my reality so that others might begin to believe it, I do think that people may begin to believe in me at least in the sense of my being what I am: an inexcusably unreal boy who is struggling, like Pinocchio, to become real.
That all being said, if anybody out there, real or make-believe, would like the company... It'd truly be my pleasure to meet and speak with you. I suppose that's all for now.
-VT |
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