Imagine waking up everyday with a feeling that you don’t belong to the world you live in. You don’t fit in with anyone or anything and you truly live on an island.
Except this island is still in the middle of the ocean so you are surrounded by people because you are stuck in the center. You still feel like an outside and there is no escape from the middle because you are the furthest away from the exit.
You are in the middle but you can’t connect with anyone because you are a hodgepodge of “sort-ofs.” You have some things in common but not a lot of things in common. You are kinda fun but you’re kinda dull. You are easily forgettable; no one truly cares what you are up to. Nothing truly matters.
Furthermore, this isolation gives you nothing but pain. Pain is the only thing you experience everyday. Some days you are happy, some days you are angry, some days you are sad but everyday, you are hurt and no one will truly care or understand why. Sure, everyone will try to convince you, saying you are wrong, you are not alone and there is no reason to be upset. “You’ve got the rest of your life to look forward to” is fairly common here.
You keep quiet, though, and bottle it all up. Until you start acting out because you are in desparate need of attention, recognition. All you want is someone to notice you, honor you.
It is vampiric; you suck it in every chance you get and since no one told you anything you wanted to hear, you don’t know when to stop. You are a fiend and an addict.
Your fervor makes you the definition of insane as you keep repeating the same actions over and over and over and over, thinking things will change. They do not change, and they never will. The world is Celsius and you are Kelvin. It’s a black and white world and you are pink. You stick out but you are an anomaly, against the grain.
Finally, the worst part of the equation is that you have no identity or sense of self. If you do not know who you are or what makes you, you, then how are you suppose to find someone else? How do you genuinely care for another person past initial infatuation and superficiality? The simple answer? You don’t. All you do is blindly feel emotion. All emotions, all the time, surrounded by pain.
And then it happens. You get a chance to turn off the lights, crawl into bed and truly be alone. This is when you realize you have been alone all day and you will end the night alone. You (try to) sleep. You dream. Your dreams give you everything you imagine and everything you seek.
But this isn’t reality, is it? Is reality even worth your effort?
Hello fellow wolves,
it’s been awhile since I’ve written a post so I thought I’d brush off the cobwebs on my keyboard and type something.
Sadly, I am in a pickle at the moment; I am currently blind as a bat. Yes, I am using SONAR and Daredevil like skill to navigate through the world. And the way I lost my frames is hilarious and so..sooo sad too.
While climbing rocks (literally), my glasses decided that they were too damn good for my face and ears. After a big jump, my specs fell off my face. This wouldn’t be a problem in most situations..but unfortunately, I was at the beach and the tide decided to play an early April Fool’s joke on me and take my glasses for a swim. But this is a joke right? Because I kind of need to say.
I cant drive but I can walk and ride the bus. (luckily is BIG AND BLUE). And this week, I truly got to enjoy my surroundings in a brand new light…a brand new blurry light. I walked two miles to a video game store with the smell of Brazilian in my nose as dozens of restaurants bustled during Easter. I was totally incognizant but completely in tune with what surrounded me.
I heard a creepy tune from an ice cream truck and I was alone as I watched it go by, no one else was near me. I suddenly got a panic attack as I imagined the ice cream driver (that I won’t be able to see) slowly killing me with that same creepy ice cream truck tune.
My mind does crazy things….
But I assume that this stroke of blindness has help me see beauty…even I though I technically can’t “see” the beauty. But now my mind is as cloudy as my vision…I’ve been in a hazy daze and it’s pure melancholy yet it is also nonchalant…fickle in every sense of the word.
I know I only have one option. I have to sit and look up at the sky, look inside my mind and watch those white things that I assume are clouds pass me by.
Unless it storms. Then maybe I can be truly happy.
Wolf here, back from another long break…I realize I should probably write on my Tumblr more often but that’s life when you’re a starving artist wink wink*
So, now that I am a year removed from graduation, I find myself with a lot more free time. I wasn’t a big television watcher growing up but with nothing to do, I started enjoying more and more TV.
Sadly, my college experience has warped my sense of TV enjoyment. I now have to analyze EVERYTHING I watch instead of mindlessly fulfilling my entertainment needs.
Which brings to the moral of my story. Unfortunately, I thought it would be cool to take a “Race in the Media” course and it pretty much confirmed what I and many others have already known.
TV does not like minorities.
Now, before anyone accuses me of calling TV execs racist, I obviously recognize that there are many minorities on television shows. However, after some digging, many of these characters are strategically placed.
So, for the most part, when a television show is looking for a minority character, their go-to choice is a black person. Hispanic people are the second largest minority group in the U.S. but like all minorities, they are underrepresented in television shows.
That’s life but moving on. When TV shows decide to write in a black character, the person tends to be pigeonholed into a stereotype. Whether this is intentional or not, I can’t really say, but the evidence is clearly there.
So what characters do black actors tend to play on TV? It will be one of these three categories:
The Authority Figure, The Sidekick (mostly goofy), or The Angry Black Man/Woman.
These three archetypes are in EVERY SINGLE TV SHOW. Think about it. When was the last time you saw a quirky basket case who stole your heart with their hijinks while they suffered through wild bouts of bipolar disorder…and they just so happened to be black?
Never. Never Ever.
So why is this the case? The main reason I bring this issue to attention is the show Dexter. I love this show. It’s crazy, it’s wild and it is represented by LOTS of diversity. Pretty much every ethnic group is represented fairly and gets loads of face time.
Except one. Black folks.
While the show pretty much uses its black characters realistically, (black characters on this show are cautious, investigative, apprehensive and never fully trust anyone or anything.), they all magically become trusting and accepting during the end of their story arc, giving one thing common at the end.
They’re all dead. And they all die fairly quickly. Why is this? Why can’t a black character on this show just simply ride off into the sunset?
Again, I am not the most Afrocentric wolf in the world but as an aspiring actor and writer, it kind makes me wonder how can I avoid these same traps.
The only way I guess is to either watch cartoons or hope for something or someone to change the mold.
Or change it myself.