Many years ago a group of adventurers were created in the fantasy RPG world of Dragonlance. Of these adventurers there was one, a mage, name Raistlin. He was inflicted with an insidious curse (for any true believers forgive me if my retelling is incorrect; I am only going upon the lore as it was told to me by a friend some time ago). His eyes were designed as hourglasses; everything he viewed aged and died before him. He would look upon his young friends and watch them wither with age. All he saw did such, a whole world of death trapped in your eyes.
Let this be warning not to piss off an archmage.
I recount this for this seems an affliction of my own. No, I wasn't cursed (unless you consider self-affliction). It could be something as simple as Peter Pan Complex; I've got stuck in my head that things are supposed to remain the same, unchanged. It's part ignorance and part innocence (the former is one's own fault while the latter is through no fault of one's own; innocence is only countered by experience). But things change, people most of all. Right now I'm applying this to Michael Cretu, better known for his Enigma project. Here are my visual aids for clarity before I explain.
Michael Cretu (or Curly M.C. as he was known some times) in the early 90s:
Cretu now, as of the release of Enigma's seventh album (this year) Seven Lives Many Faces:
When I saw this I thought to myself, who is this man? Obviously it's not the same man. But it is. The new picture is off the official Enigma/Michael Cretu site and if you look through enough pics (as I did) you'll see the same face features... just less curly hair which is now gray. Thinner face.
Here's another example. My friend Heather nearly ten years ago on her wedding day (age 21):
And here she is two years ago/eight years after marriage/kids:
I apply my thinking to Cretu because I have been watching music videos near twenty years old of him/Enigma when he was dark haired. Later videos didn't feature him so I never saw him age; I assumed he hadn't changed so much (I go back to the term Morpheus used in The Matrix: residual self image, except I would call it residual applied image, since I'm applying it to the person instead of them doing it themselves). It would be interesting to know your thoughts. For me, I look at my friend, very much changed in looks and in mentality, and I see what she'll look like at fifty, a middle aged woman of frazzled nerves, a wasted youth twisted by the years. I see this thought my hourglass eyes because it's what I see in her eyes, her actions. The majority of the people I meet I see this way. I look at the young nurse at work and see her svelte form padded by 75 pounds after an accidental pregnancy that confines her to an abusive drunk of a husband, whiskers growing on her chin and her face lined with age and scars from beatings. The span between here and there does not always have to be negative, just wearing. Example, the 19 yo I work with with a full head of hair and youth will be bald and have lost many teeth as youth begins to leave him bent and worn. The weight training he's doing now to beef up will cause lasting problems that will surface when he's my age.
This "aging" effect I even see when I purvey the young, lovely SGs around here. There has been more than once I caught a thumbnail and thought a new SG had to be 40 only to see that it was my applied image of her features. Or one such woman is predestined with bad features (weak chin, high forehead, etc). And my mind must factor in what sleeves and cheastpieces will look like thirty years after they're inked.
Yes, this is crazy talk. It is a piss poor way to view the world but you know, when you're locked away from the world it's an acquired (say: forced) view one takes on. Aging myself, I can only see things getting older, dying, worse. Ironically, I still see myself in my mind's eye, my residual self image (thanks Morpheus), as I was in 2001 when I graduated from college. I've changed. But I'm stuck there because that was the last time I was part of society. It was brought to my attention that I think too much... well, that's all you can do when there's nothing to expunge that mental power. No friend to engage in thought provoking (I refuse to have a needless conversation about the weather or to force conversation when I nor the other person doesn't mean a fucking word of it) intellectual intercourse. Read my bio!! Makes Me Happy: Stimulating conversation. Yet this world doesn't do that, doesn't believe that people can talk, relate ideas. We're not supposed to do that. I thought it was a generational thing. But my grandparents, parents, my generation, and new HS grads now are doing it. I thought it was regional but have met too many people (particularly from Ohio) who do not understand it. It's not just continental or cultural either. So I'm ostracized because I think we should relate to each other on personal levels. In my solitude I can see society of a one track mind that never deviates course and in that linearity I can glance the future of each and every one I meet because it is the same as every generation before, people stuck within the box (or, to follow the theme I relate to it, are still plugged into the Matrix).
When out and about I hide my eyes behind dark glasses. As Bono has said, these aren't sunglasses, they're protection. If the soul can be seen in the eyes (or the heart seen upon the sleeve) I don't want an errant glance from a passing pod person (or "coppertop") to see it and ridicule it. I also try to hide the view around me for each person is following a circuit without ever questioning why they do. They just do it. They say no to things they've never done, they build their box and refuse to try anything they haven't done before. Let's have chinese tonight<> I don't like Chinese <> Have you ever had Chinese?<> No, but I know I don't like it. What the fuck is that?! I'm not saying be Yes people, just offer consideration. People are too busy being ignorant that they never find the cure for innocence.
Because of that, I don't look at what I do, viewing people aging, is not so much (faux or not) precognization but just viewing how the person truly is inside; my view of the person is just a physical interpretation of the person inside, a more accurate depiction of the person than their youthful features.
This twisted view, this... form of crazy, is cast upon me because I refuse to go back into the box of banality people cling to desperately (Cypher: "Why of why didn't I take the blue pill?) then I find a soulful solace within my prison of isolation. If I never meet another person who has freed themselves as well it will be worth it, though lonely. It may be a prison but my prison is vast and mine. Anyone within the box is confined and destined in their path. My mind is free. Anyone care to join me? Freeing your mind grants you youth and beauty.
Mind you: I am only NOW beginning to sample the bottle of spirits in my cabinet.
Let this be warning not to piss off an archmage.
I recount this for this seems an affliction of my own. No, I wasn't cursed (unless you consider self-affliction). It could be something as simple as Peter Pan Complex; I've got stuck in my head that things are supposed to remain the same, unchanged. It's part ignorance and part innocence (the former is one's own fault while the latter is through no fault of one's own; innocence is only countered by experience). But things change, people most of all. Right now I'm applying this to Michael Cretu, better known for his Enigma project. Here are my visual aids for clarity before I explain.
Michael Cretu (or Curly M.C. as he was known some times) in the early 90s:
Cretu now, as of the release of Enigma's seventh album (this year) Seven Lives Many Faces:
When I saw this I thought to myself, who is this man? Obviously it's not the same man. But it is. The new picture is off the official Enigma/Michael Cretu site and if you look through enough pics (as I did) you'll see the same face features... just less curly hair which is now gray. Thinner face.
Here's another example. My friend Heather nearly ten years ago on her wedding day (age 21):
And here she is two years ago/eight years after marriage/kids:
I apply my thinking to Cretu because I have been watching music videos near twenty years old of him/Enigma when he was dark haired. Later videos didn't feature him so I never saw him age; I assumed he hadn't changed so much (I go back to the term Morpheus used in The Matrix: residual self image, except I would call it residual applied image, since I'm applying it to the person instead of them doing it themselves). It would be interesting to know your thoughts. For me, I look at my friend, very much changed in looks and in mentality, and I see what she'll look like at fifty, a middle aged woman of frazzled nerves, a wasted youth twisted by the years. I see this thought my hourglass eyes because it's what I see in her eyes, her actions. The majority of the people I meet I see this way. I look at the young nurse at work and see her svelte form padded by 75 pounds after an accidental pregnancy that confines her to an abusive drunk of a husband, whiskers growing on her chin and her face lined with age and scars from beatings. The span between here and there does not always have to be negative, just wearing. Example, the 19 yo I work with with a full head of hair and youth will be bald and have lost many teeth as youth begins to leave him bent and worn. The weight training he's doing now to beef up will cause lasting problems that will surface when he's my age.
This "aging" effect I even see when I purvey the young, lovely SGs around here. There has been more than once I caught a thumbnail and thought a new SG had to be 40 only to see that it was my applied image of her features. Or one such woman is predestined with bad features (weak chin, high forehead, etc). And my mind must factor in what sleeves and cheastpieces will look like thirty years after they're inked.
Yes, this is crazy talk. It is a piss poor way to view the world but you know, when you're locked away from the world it's an acquired (say: forced) view one takes on. Aging myself, I can only see things getting older, dying, worse. Ironically, I still see myself in my mind's eye, my residual self image (thanks Morpheus), as I was in 2001 when I graduated from college. I've changed. But I'm stuck there because that was the last time I was part of society. It was brought to my attention that I think too much... well, that's all you can do when there's nothing to expunge that mental power. No friend to engage in thought provoking (I refuse to have a needless conversation about the weather or to force conversation when I nor the other person doesn't mean a fucking word of it) intellectual intercourse. Read my bio!! Makes Me Happy: Stimulating conversation. Yet this world doesn't do that, doesn't believe that people can talk, relate ideas. We're not supposed to do that. I thought it was a generational thing. But my grandparents, parents, my generation, and new HS grads now are doing it. I thought it was regional but have met too many people (particularly from Ohio) who do not understand it. It's not just continental or cultural either. So I'm ostracized because I think we should relate to each other on personal levels. In my solitude I can see society of a one track mind that never deviates course and in that linearity I can glance the future of each and every one I meet because it is the same as every generation before, people stuck within the box (or, to follow the theme I relate to it, are still plugged into the Matrix).
When out and about I hide my eyes behind dark glasses. As Bono has said, these aren't sunglasses, they're protection. If the soul can be seen in the eyes (or the heart seen upon the sleeve) I don't want an errant glance from a passing pod person (or "coppertop") to see it and ridicule it. I also try to hide the view around me for each person is following a circuit without ever questioning why they do. They just do it. They say no to things they've never done, they build their box and refuse to try anything they haven't done before. Let's have chinese tonight<> I don't like Chinese <> Have you ever had Chinese?<> No, but I know I don't like it. What the fuck is that?! I'm not saying be Yes people, just offer consideration. People are too busy being ignorant that they never find the cure for innocence.
Because of that, I don't look at what I do, viewing people aging, is not so much (faux or not) precognization but just viewing how the person truly is inside; my view of the person is just a physical interpretation of the person inside, a more accurate depiction of the person than their youthful features.
This twisted view, this... form of crazy, is cast upon me because I refuse to go back into the box of banality people cling to desperately (Cypher: "Why of why didn't I take the blue pill?) then I find a soulful solace within my prison of isolation. If I never meet another person who has freed themselves as well it will be worth it, though lonely. It may be a prison but my prison is vast and mine. Anyone within the box is confined and destined in their path. My mind is free. Anyone care to join me? Freeing your mind grants you youth and beauty.
Mind you: I am only NOW beginning to sample the bottle of spirits in my cabinet.