The Thrill is Gone

Remember when I said I'd blog bi-weekly? Yeah, I shouldn't have promised that. Apologies. Oh well, enough lashing of myself with my proverbial cat o' ninetails. 

As a child, I remember a cartoon called Visionaries, about a post-apocalyptic world where machinery no longer functioned and remained only as relics of a bygone era. This world reverted to something of a medieval existence, and knights reemerged as either champions and protectors of the weak or villainous tormentors. Magic returned to the world, and a formidable wizard--something of a cross between Merlin and The Great and Powerful Oz--offered two groups (the Spectral Knights and the Darkling Lords) the power to turn into a mystical-inspired animal (befitting their personality) and wield powers not afforded to other knights of the time, including the power to breathe magical life into certain vehicles of war. Safe to say, it was an eyegasm to a kid with a vivid imagination and a nascent appreciation for the struggle between the light and the dark.

I always remember a scene from one particular episode which dealt with the consequences of wielding powers one is unprepared to manage. The Darkling Lords had somehow managed to trap their powerful wizard-benefactor, Merklin, and send him to the "Wizard's Jail"--charming. Darkstorm, the leader of the baddies, now gained possession of Merklin's magical orb and text. He began with amusingly superficial tricks to practice and demonstrate his new potency, also rewarding his henchmen in the process. One henchman in particular, Cravex, had the tragic flaw of rage and an extremely short fuse, which was often demonstrated throughout the series. What could Darkstorm possibly impress him with? Darkstorm offered him an edenic vision that was absolutely counter to what he was about:

"Now, Cravex, imagine a world without irritation... a world where nothing can make you angry."

(Cravex is seated in a luminous meadow, reminiscent of an Arcadian woodland, surrounded by rainbow butterflies that are obviously products of magical light. He watches as two horses materialize from the same light and are in the midst of a race.)

Cravex: "Ah, it looks like my horse is going to win its four-thousandth straight race... Too bad racing seems to have lost its thrill." (The butterflies dematerialize as if they were fading holograms) "Why has my favorite past time lost its thrill?"

(We get a shot of the horses and the voice of what seems to be a public address announcer before Cravex's horse inexplicably veers off course somewhat) "No, it's nose to nose... but wait! Cravex's horse loses!"

Cravex: (with subdued joy) "Good... the thrill is back!"

This one scene seemed somewhat superfluous in the grand scheme of the episode, which eventually led to Darkstorm thinking that because he controlled the magic that he was the magic, and he eventually summoned one of the sacred, sacred spells and nearly caused yet another apocalypse. Still, this scene of Cravex, for once not being angry, always stuck out in my mind and remains there to this day. Often, in times of melancholia or self-reflection or whatever, I often repeat that line of racing losing its thrill and asking why my favorite past time has lost its thrill? Poor Cravex was probably depressed and, instead of turning his rage inward, let it all out when dealing with people. He was famous for flying into a rage when even the slightest inconvenience annoyed him and was probably the most feared of the Darkling Lords because of his ability to kick everyone's ass around him, friend or foe. This was sometimes used for comic relief, but definitely caused all to fear his wrath.

I suppose I relate to the character of Cravex (voiced by the talented Chris Latta, the voice of Cobra Commander from G.I. Joe and Starscream from the animated Transformers series) because I, too, have a very short fuse and nasty temper that inspires a number of reactions: laughter, disgust, fear, abject terror, pity and disappointment. I loathe this aspect of myself because it runs counter to who I feel I am deep down and what I aspire to become. I hate that I lose control of my composure and let emotions rule me for a time... it makes me feel like an unenlightened brute that Vulcans would scoff at. I have wished for a very long time to be a cool and composed customer, patient in all his dealings and admired for it. Boy, what a fuckin' narcissistic admission. But it's true, I wish I had that kind of temperament because I know the advantages that would come along with it... I'm sure I could really get things done and maybe be in a better position in life than I currently am. This is something I also need to overcome--my unhealthy ability to be okay with who and where I am, regardless. Yes, if I'm in an unhappy place I need to get out of it, but I also feel it important to accept that I have a certain temperament that is challenging to deal with. Hating myself will do me no favors.

But I digress... back to the mystery of lost thrill. I relate to the scene again not because horse racing is my favorite past time (although it was one of my grandfather's) but because writing is. I have never wanted to be anything but one who writes for a living since I was maybe 10 and decided that I'd better aspire to some kind of career. I used to do it often and eagerly and didn't beat myself up when I didn't do it. I now do it less eagerly--except during those magical spurts of productivity and or inspiration--and often beat myself up for not doing my exercise/chore. Why has my favortie past time lost it's thrill? I often blame life and the path it has taken me down. I also blame my growing desire to not think and simply be entertained or distracted as a way of taking me out of myself and the pain. Can I blame anything else? I suppose it's hard to be thrilled about anything, really, when you loathe your own nature. But what an ugly nature... and I know because I see it only a daily basis, something I definitely do not advertise to those I come in contact with in life. My immediate family knows--my mother even once referred to me as "ruthless" in my condemnation and critique of things I dislike--and they suffer having to deal with me at my ugliest; that's enough to embarrass me into not wanting to be around them much at all.

This blog has turned into a collection of my vomit and neurosis. I suppose this is good in some ways, but I'd hate to be the one reading this. I would have abandoned ship a long time ago if I were a reader... there I go again. I won't promise anything else, but I really do want this to be something positive and entertaining, not just a place where I go to figure myself out.

I'm waiting for the thrill to return; comings and goings are always in flux.