For Kasey.

This first post in almost a year is dedicated to Kasey Morgan. She has been the most consistent supporter of my writing, even if it is always self-centered. I would not have written these thoughts down if it wasn't for her. 

    It struck me as I grew up from childhood to tween-hood to teenage-dom and watched countless kids' movies from Disney and the like. I saw something that most had in common but it was never explained as to why. Here we are, rooting for heroes/heroines portrayed at a vague young age, maybe just turning sixteen. The fate of the world is upon their shoulders, and they solicit help from new magical/animal/human friends and narrowly escape doom, yay, the end. Movie writers tend to make protagonists likable, but not perfect. Most female protagonists are clumsy; male protagonists awkward or un-masculine. Many of us as an audience are able to identify with these characters because we see ourselves as the protagonist of our own lives. We defend ourselves if we are criticized, and make excuses for our mistakes. We want to see ourselves as likable although we would never claim to be perfect. But something these protagonists have in common stood out to me. In movies, we are urged not only to root for the protagonist, but actually care for them and wish for their success as a person and not just a hero/heroine. But how do writers get us to that next level of depth?

Sympathy.

       They move us past being able to relate to them with little coming-of-age quandaries and make us feel downright sorry for them. Now this is where I get to what most of these characters have in common: Missing parents. The protagonist child is usually orphaned, has one dead parent, has an evil step-parent, or a parent hasn't even been written into the story. (Here is a detailed list on Wikipedia focusing on the absence of maternal figures.)
       Growing up associating this absence of maternal and paternal characters with being a hero/heroine gave me some ideals that I thought I'd never have to personally learn. While watching these films, we saw these characters as stronger and more likable because we knew they had endured something extremely painful and a young age and yet are still standing. Not only are they upright, they are selfless and friendly to boot. They fight side by side with other characters they just met with a common goal to bring down the villain, even though the outcome may not directly impact the protagonists. If it does impact them, they still may go out of their way to protect or save or empower a friend or ally, aiding in their likability and making us root for them even more fervently. We learned that "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger", and that your strength will be respected and you will become a more mature person from it. You will appreciate people in your life more than ever, and you will be more caring and empathetic.

       I was eighteen when I became the protagonist of my own Disney movie, only there is no plot and the only villain I have is a selfish facet of my own personality. When my mom died unexpectedly, I was surrounded by a close-knit group of friends who held me and treated me delicately and made sure I had everything I needed. Being in college, word traveled to all of my classmates and so they met me with the same caring disposition. RIT was my audience rooting for me and helping me when I needed it.
       But outside my Disney movie, during all the outtakes and cuts and deleted scenes and after the credits roll, after the original movie but before the sequel, I will be the only person in the room that knows my struggle, and I will not know the struggles of anyone else. I don't feel empowered and strengthened from my experiences, and I do not expect to be treated delicately. There was a time when I wanted to introduce myself by telling the stranger what I was enduring just so they would know I was not capable of normal unclouded conversation and that I wanted them to hug me. I craved to give off an air of strength and compassion, but still be loved and rooted for by every person I encountered.

       The slow loss of an audience admittedly makes me feel a loss of empowerment. I can no longer acceptably manipulate my surroundings to cushion my heart and mind. It's been three years since my plot twist. I think it's about time I build the cushion for myself with my own hands and no longer rely on others' gentleness. When I graduate from RIT and move to the west coast and present my portfolio to a client, I can't say, "Well, not all my work is up to my full potential because, you see, I hit a bump in the road and I couldn't make great work while also managing a deep depression and dragging my GPA up from a 1.2 to a 3.5 so don't criticize me too hard."
Everyone has struggles. We all handle them differently. I think it's time to get back on track.

Here's a selfish selfie with my own self-admired and newly sprouted curly locks, since the theme for today is self and selfishness.