Cyborg Metaphor

I promised myself this morning that when I got here to the library I would focus with relentless and single-minded purpose upon writing my book, and not get sidetracked by things like updating blogs. I have a meeting in the middle of the day you see, and so it was a fair amount of effort to get me to agree to head to the library before AND after the meeting to attempt to write. It's that whole perverse fascination I have with futility. Why bother going to the library in two small chunks of time? Nothing will get done unless I have a very LARGE chunk of time.

Which of course isn't true, but sometimes I have to choke on that a bit before I acquiesce to a broken up work schedule. Anyway, fighting through several home distractions I hauled myself to the library, where I have an hour and a half before the meeting. I purposefully left my sketchbook at home, as well as the book I'm reading so as to keep myself focused. (All evidence to the contrary I really do love writing, I just am so easily distracted). And guess what else got left at home, not at all purposefully? The flash drive containing all my writing.

...

I have some of my writing. I back up routinely of course, so Ol' Man Compy has a copy in him, but it's an older-type copy. I'm missing especially the most recent chapter and a half I've been working on these past two weeks, where I wanted to pick up and continue today. So I have a few options, I guess. Rely on my memory and pick up where I left off yesterday to the best of my ability, or perhaps focus on another segment of the writing. Or brainstorm, at least I have my notes and colored pens.

But anyone that knows me decently well knows of my Emotional Inertia, and how when I have decided to focus on something or some emotion, it's extremely hard for me to switch to other focuses with much speed. If I have my heart set on doing something, I get particularly upset when I can't do it. My emotions and interests often seem to flit about like feathers tossed in wind, near-weightless and capricious in their paths... but when they land, they do so like lead weights. Heavy, nearly impossible to dislodge, and poisonous with prolonged exposure.

So my heart and emotions were set on this most recent scene in Chapter 20. I was ready and primed to write it. Now I am missing all of Chapter 20, and I am annoyed, and can't seem to shake my focus on it. And yet, I don't have all the tools I need to perhaps do the job. Futility mutters about how there's little point in trying to remember what's not here and write it anyway; Reason points out that I have a good memory and it's really not all that hard to stitch in part of a scene that is written separate from the whole. Reason also reminds me how I have lots of other things I could be focusing on in my writing, and that despite missing the precious flash drive with the most recent work I have quite a bit of my writing. More than enough to get something done.

Faithful Readers recall my love of Battle Angel Alita (Random Aside: I had recalled hearing about how James Cameron had the rights to a live-action movie, but it seems according to the wikipedia article that perhaps we are creeping closer to the realization of that. ...I'm honestly not sure how I feel about that! I suppose if anyone is capable of handling the story decently it would be him, and based on his decisions he seems to have taken the project on not for the money it will make but rather because he is a fan of the work himself. It becomes a question of how much 'adaption' takes place at this point.). Particularly in the fifth manga volume, during combat engagement Alita loses multiple cyborg limbs over the course of a single fight. The writing drew a fascinating observation from this, and subsequent fights throughout the story: practitioners of cyborg combat learn to fight beyond the loss of a limb or more. Cyborgs have a unique advantage over flesh and blood: that they can shut down the pain nerve impulses, and block out what would send a body into shock otherwise. Losing an arm doesn't mean the end of the fight, it just means the nature of fighting has changed, and this curious cyborg combat metaphor has stuck with me through the years. Probably because I am so bad at implementing its ultimate lesson: we lose things we are counting on in the struggle of life. Adapt, and keep fighting.

This of course is completely at odds with my Emotional Inertia. I am not a cyborg, I am a regular, fragile, soft and bloody human being. I get stuck on things. When my emotional 'limbs' are ripped from me, I seethe and rant, or else I sink into depression, or else I smolder in disgruntlement. I don't nod, accept the damage, and keep fighting. I sort of stew about it for awhile and hope the limb gets reattached before attempting further combat. I don't do well in this carefully constructed metaphor. I would lose a fight with a cyborg fairly quickly.

So this situation is yet another 'opportunity' to practice the art of cyborg combat. I've lost a limb I was depending on, my flash drive. What do I do? Plop down in the middle of the battlefield and wait for the medic? Wander away to find a mechanic that will reattach it, but will put me out of action for a day? Whine about it? Or keep fighting, because I have other limbs still? It is an inconvenience and a disadvantage, but is the fight really over? The nature of a fight is struggle; the opponent is not going to be nice and keep from cutting limbs of if I ask sweetly. The hardest thing of all is to take this unexpected state of affairs, adapt, and keep trying. At least, to me and my Emotional Inertia, it is the hardest.

Of course, I did sort of chip away at the lead weights by blogging a bit about it. I suppose in the metaphor we have constructed here, that would be like a brief retreat to seek more advantageous terrain. I do intend to try and write anyway. I just need to get past the fact that things aren't going exactly how I planned and that's a fairly common occurrence when cyborg fighting happens.

Current Tea: Strawberry Green
Current Project: Fighting on with fewer limbs