Escape Characters

Like Sarek in ST:TNG:3:23

Today I kinda got angry. A lapse in my normal, Vulcan grip on inner turmoil. Thankfully, nobody was around. Don't worry, this doesn't happen often.

It started with the movie "Deathproof." Not for the movie itself (I kind of liked it, I'm sorry, World), but instead, a particular scene. In it, there are four women in a car. They are all exchanging dialogue. And while watching this scene, I noticed something: there were only three actors in the car. Three actors, and a stuntwoman (Zoe Bell, if you're curious), who in a curious choice by the director, plays herself. Yes, it says "Zoe Bell as Herself" in the credits. Thanks for that, Quentin.

But this is something I figured out only after watching the credits. Up until then, something didn't sit right with me. I knew there was something strange about that character. Not the character, the actor herself. What was odd is the fact that I noticed at all. That I could tell, just by looking at someone for a few seconds, that they were something strange and foreign.

Then I started thinking: the same thing applies to people who can sing. You can tell, damn near immediately, if somebody "can sing." Sometimes it's because they're naturally talented, sometimes because they train for it. Same goes for dancing, running, throwing things accurately, talking to people at parties, remembering people's names, writing (well), and the ability to recall movie quotes, characters, actors, and awards they've won since around 1990 and onward.

And this thought process naturally regressed to thinking things like, "Oh, well you can't ___ for the life of you. What gives?"

And then I read that article that said that less than 3% of school children are considered "gifted," and that less than 1% of those children are truly exceptional in their talents. The article then went on to say that both parents and teachers often misapply the term "gifted" in an educational setting, and often overzealously engender the thought of uniqueness and "being special" in children, such that most "gifted" programs barely deserve the name.

And my thoughts turned to: "They said you were 'gifted' in school, Josh, and you can't even do ___? Really?"

So I sat there at work, spiraling downward in my thoughts, sifting through SNMP walks and DHCP configurations. "They can spot you like that woman in the car. You don't even have to open your mouth." "And who did you want to watch, Josh? Where were your eyes drawn?" "Your few or even singular talents make you obvious and uninteresting."

It was a rough morning.

I took a break. I went to get some coffee. Instead of vending-machine-mocha, I decided on vending-machine-black. It was then that I remembered I could hockey-stop.

Yes. Hockey-stop. On ice. On skates. Actually, I can skate pretty well. I played hockey for eight years when I was younger. As I've detailed elsewhere, I wasn't a great player. But I always enjoyed skating.

And then I got to thinking logically again. If I'm terrible at something, or even many things, that means most people are too. Thankfully, my possibly misapplied "gifted" classes didn't impress upon me that I was a unique snowflake. Instead, it taught me the importance of solving logic puzzles as fast as I could so I could get more time playing Odell Pond on the computer. And I almost never finished first, so really, most of my Odell Pond playing was by proxy.

By then the emotional rollercoaster had lost its momentum, and was rolling slowly back to the start.

I decided that it was fine if somebody could tell I wasn't an actor if I was ever on film. The only way I could imagine being so would have "Josh Rhoades as Himself" in the credits. Otherwise, I would hope the person in charge of the film would know better.