Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Human Errors
I would very much like to correct the Human Errors I see in the world. These are people who hurt others. Not physically; physical wounds are repremanded by the government (somewhat). No, I would like to rehabilitate those precious many who cause pain in a very legal and emotional way. H.E.s are humans who have lost all concept of their humanity. Instead of building people up, they tear them down. I would like to help these former-people. I have two fantasies about this.
I imagine myself discussing proper human etiquette to them. You know, have a real heart to heart: them crying, head in the hands. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I understand now! I've changed!", pat pat pat on the back. It's really quite touching. Like Ebenezer Scrooge on Christmas morning.
I also have this fantasy (I've had it since I was little) where I'm in a bright white interrogation room, and the accused is sitting in a chair, bound and gagged. And I get to yell and scream at them, finally telling them everything they deserve to hear. I can hit these people if I want. Hit them and make them feel some semblance of the pain they've so willingly dispersed to others. I assume this makes me cold. Well, we all have to deal with our lack of power in different ways, don't we? Better this way than to truly take matters into my own hands. Or at least, that's the lie I feed myself to make me feel better about doing nothing.
I have this horrible tendency to want to fight other people's battles for them. When I see them back down or get hurt, I would very much like to put things right. And the unforgivable sin is humiliating someone: that strikes a chord that is very personal to me. In my mind's eye, I can beat the sense into those responsible. But in real life, all I can do is hold the victim, if even that much. I will never hit someone except in self defense. Reality is not so forgiving as my imagination. That is perhaps the worst part of being human: to feel this false sense of free will and power, be moved to action, and then to be required by the laws of man and nature to sit on my hands.
I imagine myself discussing proper human etiquette to them. You know, have a real heart to heart: them crying, head in the hands. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I understand now! I've changed!", pat pat pat on the back. It's really quite touching. Like Ebenezer Scrooge on Christmas morning.
I also have this fantasy (I've had it since I was little) where I'm in a bright white interrogation room, and the accused is sitting in a chair, bound and gagged. And I get to yell and scream at them, finally telling them everything they deserve to hear. I can hit these people if I want. Hit them and make them feel some semblance of the pain they've so willingly dispersed to others. I assume this makes me cold. Well, we all have to deal with our lack of power in different ways, don't we? Better this way than to truly take matters into my own hands. Or at least, that's the lie I feed myself to make me feel better about doing nothing.
I have this horrible tendency to want to fight other people's battles for them. When I see them back down or get hurt, I would very much like to put things right. And the unforgivable sin is humiliating someone: that strikes a chord that is very personal to me. In my mind's eye, I can beat the sense into those responsible. But in real life, all I can do is hold the victim, if even that much. I will never hit someone except in self defense. Reality is not so forgiving as my imagination. That is perhaps the worst part of being human: to feel this false sense of free will and power, be moved to action, and then to be required by the laws of man and nature to sit on my hands.
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