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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: I, Vulcandots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: HaldirLives
    Elite Ratio:    5.12 - 234/149/60
    Words: 941
    Class/Type: Prose/Serious
    Total Views: 760
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 4871



    Description:
       This piece is more of a vent, so it's autobiographical. I've just been itching to write it for years. So, here it is.
    It is connected to 'Beauty?' and 'The Mastery of My Emotions'.


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsI, Vulcandots
    -------------------------------------------


    There are so many reasons; I can only name those I remember. It has been at least six years since my return to normalcy, and I no longer regret the decision that necessitated that return. The first, and most direct, cause was probably my love of the TV show Star Trek; particularly, my love of the Vulcan first commander, Spock. But, because this drastic change in personality occurred sometime between third and fifth grade, certain events surrounding that period will always be connected to my decision.

    My mother and father introduced me to Star Trek at an extremely young age. I have been told that my house hosted many Star Trek parties where coconut covered treats were called tribbles, and where I would sneak out of bed to watch the late episodes. I canít remember that, but my favorite episode has always been ĎThe Trouble with Tribblesí. My favorite character has always been Spock, with Bones as a close second. As a human, I related more closely with Bones, but Spockís point of view always fascinated me. I always wondered what it would be like to be Vulcan.

    Being Vulcan is an experience most humans have no way of comprehending, because it means the suppression of all emotion, almost to the point of its extinction, and complete logic. Because of this unique perspective, I began to pursue the idea. I did not know how to go about it, so my early attempts failed. I was focusing on suppressing my emotion, which I later found out was the incorrect method. I soon gave up the idea, and relinquished myself to my humanity.

    Up until the third grade, I had been a friend of the people who now populate the popular group. In third grade, this began to change, and this change will be indelibly linked to an incident involving my best friend, Erica Elko. You must understand what good friends we were. Our desks faced each other at the table, and there was a wall next to us. Between our desks and the wall was about three feet; it consisted of an imaginary hut shared by Erica and I. We often extended this hut to include our desks, especially when it was time for class work. This incident I have mentioned occurred during a time set aside for a project. Erica had gone to the bathroom, and I needed scissors. Just before she had left, I had borrowed several things from her. I therefore felt no inhibition about borrowing her scissors. I went over to her desk and pulled out her pencil box. It fell apart. I looked at it in dismay and put it back. When Erica used it next, she was upset that it had been broken. I had to tell her that I had pulled it out. She became more upset than I thought she would, and I insisted that it had already been broken when I pulled it out. After that, I donít remember talking to her much. I didnít play with her on the playground anymore, and so I was excluded from the group of friends I had previously known.

    This left me all alone, save a precious few. I donít remember if they picked on me much, but I remember a very lonely feeling. I was sad a lot, and I began to read even more than I used to. My reading increased from a book a week to three or four books a week. I became more obsessed with Star Trek, and began to yearn for Spockís intellect. I read and read, about physics and math and quantum mechanics. I read about theology and metaphysics. All this information made me reclusive and contemplative. I was coming up with theories that many of my friends couldnít relate to, much less understand.

    I donít know exactly how or why, but I had an intense drive to become Vulcan. And I succeeded. My first recollection of this success was when a joke was told in my fourth grade class. I understood the joke. I knew why it was funny. But I had no desire to laugh. The rest of the class was practically crying, and I sat patiently in my chair for the teacher to continue. I had no emotion. I was not happy, but I was not sad. The closest word I can find for it is satisfaction.

    While this change had been fueled by reading, so was my return. I read fantasy and science fiction, as well as non-fiction. For some reason I focused on the eyes, maybe because the eyes were described so vividly in the books. They were described as windows to a personís soul, but I could only see organs. All the things that were described so eloquently were only an amalgamation of atoms in my mind. I saw nothing beautiful about the world, only science and math. So I changed. Sometime between sixth and seventh grade I began the reclamation of my emotions.

    Until you experience it yourself, you can never know how difficult it is. But it taught me this: No human has the excuse ĎI canít do ití. I changed the fundamental nature of my humanity. A person can do anything.




    Submitted on 2006-01-17 04:36:24     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
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    5: Wow!




    ||| Comments |||
      end of the first paragraph...
    "will always (be) connected to my decision."

    ok, i just had to get the dull pedantic typo out of the way. not exactly the most exciting way to start a comment i know, so i hope this makes up for it

    run run jump BIG ELOSIONS flames smoke smoke car alarms and now you're on a rollarcoaster weeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaargh!

    exciting or what?

    back on track, i have to admit that i've never seen an episode of star trek in my entire life. but yet you gave enough detail to allow me understand vulcans enough to appreciate what you were doing.

    secondly i enjoyed it because of it's quirkiness. i've got to be careful here as it's autobiographical. what i mean is that it's so unusual and therefore makes for a fascinating story. but it still retains empathy, there's a feeling that it could happen to anyone in the same circumstances.

    i like the way the lack of emotion comes out of extreme emotions of lonliness and love/admiration for Spock. it's like you wanted to escape the intensity for something calmer and more controllable. something logical that made sense.

    i'm more the opposite, i love the madness of emotion.

    the ending is great, it turns the whole event into a kind of epiphany, you gained something important out of it. and it is true, the human mind is an amazing thing that can achieve nearly anything if it really wants to.
    | Posted on 2006-02-13 00:00:00 | by Icarus | [ Reply to This ]
      wow so how long did this whole "lack of emotions" last? to me it sounds as though it would be the sadest way that a person could possiblely live. To close yourself off from pain is also blocking out love, both the giving and recieving of it i am a very emotional person and I cry a lot I can not ever image having control over such an unstabole thing as emotions. This fact made your story extremely engaging to me. I thought that your view point of how the eyes are nothing more then organs was really cool cuz I have often thought that way about the heart. It is glorified into something it was never designed to be. Anyways I don't really know how to comment on anything about the poem other then content cuz like you siad it was more of a story. It was a good read though. Keep writing this interesting stuff I enjoy the way that it challenges my brain.
    Peace,
    Rosh
    | Posted on 2006-01-17 00:00:00 | by Rosh_5 | [ Reply to This ]


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