Monday 31 May 2004

Pic of the day: Slightly out of sync with the world. (Screenshot from City of Heroes, featuring The Norwegian. No points for guessing who plays him. ^^

Life in the phantom zone

I have mentioned this before: In the past it was a common belief that women were more given to depression than men. But in recent years, psychologists have concluded that men just get depressed in a different way. Rather than crying and feeling sad, they feel disconnected.

Of course, this could all be the typical manly sympathy play: "Hey, what about me? I want pity too! Especially if it includes sex." But I suppose they have so good brain scanners and stuff these days, they should be able to look at a brain and see whether or not it is depressed. So there might be something to it. In which case, I guess I am depressed as well. (It just doesn't feel that way.) Because, with the exception of my Internet, I am more disconnected than I have been in a long, long time.

It is kinda hard to say, since I am not very motivated at the best of times. Well, perhaps at the very best of times... but usually not. I have lacked ambition since I was young; or rather, I have systematically killed my ambitions, the way God wanted it to be. At least I got that little thing right! If God wanted us to have ambitions in this world, he would make us live 1000 years at least. All flesh is like grass, as the Bible says. But enough about that. Onward to the phantom zone!

***

Let me briefly explain this concept for the few of my remaining readers who are not into superhero comicdom. This comes from the Superman mythos: On the planet Krypton, there were some truly dangerous criminals. Even in jail, there was the fear that they might someday escape. But death penalty was considered unethical. Then one scientist discovered the phantom zone, a dimension slightly out of sync with ours. It was possible to live there, but there was nothing to do, as you could not interact with the world. The condemned Kryptonians were transported to the phantom zone with some advanced apparatus, and everyone was happy (except the criminals, but this was probably considered a good thing). Of course, this caused the criminals to survive the destruction of Krypton; eventually they found a way out to Earth, but that's another story. (Or rather several different stories, as different writers interpreted the same legend, but enough about that!)

This is a pretty good metaphor for how I feel. A couple years ago I mentioned that I felt like a ghost, when I visited the farm where I grew up. Later I have mentioned that I felt the same way when visiting the family of Superwoman, my best friend. It is a passable metaphor, but not quite perfect. I don't feel like a ghost; I feel very much alive. But I am out of sync with the world, as if we are not quite in the same place. I am real, the world is real, but we are not quite real to one another. As Dr. Manhattan's girlfriend said about him: This so-called real world is to him like a fog, and the people in it like shadows; just shadows in the fog. (Or that's what she says in Norwegian... I have not got around to buying the original Watchman trade paperback yet. But already when I read this, several years ago, it etched itself into my mind. I guess I knew this was the way I was heading; from the start, Dr. Manhattan was the character I identified with the most.)

***

I guess this sounds like a horrible fate. And I believe it is, to all those who arrive here against their will. Perhaps some chemical reaction in their brain caused them to get disconnected from their family and the world in general. Or perhaps it was some dramatic event, like the loss of a loved one. Whatever the reason, the world slid out of their grasp, and they found themselves here. Bystanders, observers of a reality which they had called "home". Separated from something they had always felt a part of. I am sometimes reminded of a few lines from a poem by Jakob Sande. (It is in New Norwegian, so I will translate it into English afterwards for the benefit of my international readers and people from eastern Norway. Also this is from my memory, so a word or two might be wrong, but the meaning is very much this.)

du som stod i namnlaus pine,
skild frå dei du kalla dine,
einsam i Pilati borg.

(You who stood in nameless pain
separated from those you called your own,
lonely in Pilate's castle.)

But it is different to have come here by myself. It is not something I endure because it happens to me. No, it is the path I have taken. I am not sure it was the right one, but I am sure it was the best I could do at the time. There is no place I would rather be; or, more correctly, no realistic place. There are things I could wish were different, even some that actually were different once upon a time. But time stops for no man, and the way through Paradise would necessarily lead me here. So it's okay. I don't feel pain, and I have nothing against being alone. And even though I am disconnected, I am not entirely cut off. I still have ADSL... or as some of us call it, AORTA: always online, real time access to the virtual world where you see me now.

But you'll be hearing from me baby, long after I'm gone
I'll be speaking to you sweetly
from a window in the Tower of Song.

(Leonard Cohen: Tower of Song.)