A Matter of Time

Did you ever feel like there was something missing in your life? I have, but more to the point, I think I am beginning to understand what that something is: Time Travelers.

Let me talk about how all this started. So the other day I was watching reruns of Smallville, (judge me accordingly for admitting that), and the episode I was watching was 8x11 Legion. It takes place much later in the Smallville mythos (Once Clark is through his angsty high school years and Michael Rosenbaum has left the series for promises of a mediocre film career.) The episode revolves around a time-traveling trio from the future, (Cosmic Boy, Lightning Lad, and Saturn Girl.) If you know anything about DC Comics you will recognize the names from the 31st century's Legion of Superheroes. They arrive in the Kent family barn to save the pre-Superman and to help him stop Brainiac in order to ensure the continued existence of a mediocre franchise.

Of course, this also gives the writers license to play with the characters and leads to all the obvious cliches and plot points you would expect in an episode about time-traveling superheroes who land in a late 90’s WB TV show. Among other things the three time travelers ask the questions that most fanboys were asking for eight years (Where is his cape? Where are the horn-rimmed glasses? Why can't he fly?), but most importantly they mention to Clark a hint of his future. They talk of a man who will not only inspire the world but the destiny of humanity for centuries to come.

This leads to me to a very important question of my own, Where is my time traveler? Clark Kent gets three (albeit stupidly named) visitors, John Connor had the Terminator, and even Bill and Ted had George Carlin. So where is my future-man who will come back to save my life so that I can one day go on to be a man that will inspire millions of people and save the human race from annihilation? I mean shouldn't that have happened by now? I'm 35 years old and according to my research most time travel experiences happen in a person's early to late teens, certainly no later than 22 or 23.

You would think even if I am not destined to save the world, the least the time traveling community could do for me is to send my future son back in time to ensure that I meet the woman of my dreams. I mean its 2019, Emmett Brown invented the time traveling Delorean back in 1985 and the time traveling steam-powered engine (for some reason) in 1885... so where is my future progeny? The only explanation I have is that maybe my son is just too busy being a famous novelist/starship captain.

Or, it could be something else, entirely... I mean I could wait around for someone like the Doctor and his TARDIS to come and whisk me away through time and space (it would have to be David Tennant) or maybe we all can't wait for our time traveling children to do all the work for us. After all whenever you look at anyone who has a had time traveling experience, Clark Kent, James T. Kirk, Marty McFly, any of the Doctor's companions, I think it is implied that these people already had something special about them even before their eponymous journeys.

Thus, the Time Traveler trope becomes almost circular. the aforementioned protagonists are special, because they were already special in the future. Bill and Ted are literally destined to change humanity, because George Carlin told them that they were, and for not other reason. the future says this person is someone who is important, so they send a Arnold Schwarzenegger back to kill him, and thus he becomes the important person they already said he was.

So maybe the solution to what lies ahead is not in a traveler from our future, but from our belief in our own futures. Also who really wants to put up with all the rigors of time travel and paradoxes, and possibilities of making out with your teenage mother. So maybe its not so much about what we are destined to be so long as we understand who we are today.

After all, Doc Brown and Natasha Bedingfield said it best, The future is unwritten.

Meta-Audience

Friedrich Nietzsche, a 19th century philosopher, often talked of the idea of non-standard perspective. In other words, its the idea that two objects cannot experience the world in the exact same way. If a dog sees the world through black and white and a Predator sees the world through rainbow-like infrared vision than neither will look at something as simple as a flower and truly understand, or even perceive it, in the same way.

It makes a lot of sense, and Fredrick Nietzsche was a damn smart man. In fact, if he were alive today, CBS would have given him an afternoon talk show by now. He is famous for -among other things- proclaiming that God is Dead, he is credited for indirectly inspiring the idea of Superman (the ubermensch), and starting a serious opposition to conventional morality in his book, Daybreak, which I am pretty sure was the fouth novel in a series of books that starred an angsty emo teen girl who was in love with an immoral vampire.

All of this really just leads to my point: There is no right or even normal way to experience the world around us. Like the dog and the Predator we all see things and understand things differently. This is especially true for people who have grown up with different experiences, different thoughts, and with different ways of processing the world.

I like to think that I try to write for people who see the world a bit differently than most. I try to write for anyone who has ever caught the last snippet of a conversation and equated it to quote from a Matt Groening cartoon; or who has looked up into the skies of New York City and hoped that maybe (for a moment) they might catch sight of a webslinging wallcrawler; or who have given serious thought to making an emergency bag in case of a zombie outbreak.

Perhaps more importantly, I want to write for anyone who has ever wanted to follow their dreams; or for anyone who has ever looked out the window and wondered where their place was in this world. As Nietzsche would agree sometimes the world is literally what you make of it.

Let’s make it a good one, together.

All Who Sonder Are Lost

Sonder n. The realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own—populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.

The above definition comes from the site: The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, and I think it might be my favorite site. Sonder is a realization, an epiphany that comes when you see that the guy who sells you coffee every morning has a picture of his family, or when that homeless man on the corner tells you that he graduated from Yale and served as an Army Ranger. We tend to break the people in our lives (especially those on our peripheral) down to unchanging and small boxes that allow us to view them in one light and then forget that they existed the moment they are gone. Sonder comes when those people surprise us and break out of the roles we assigned for them. Before that, they were just background characters, extras in the movie that is your life, your story.

It is interesting how stories, movies, plays, etc give us the language to talk about this phenomenon. We are the main characters. Our story is about us, we see antagonists and challenges and plot twists wherever we look. We all see a cast of supporting characters, (our friends and family.) We understand that they are complex, but maybe not as complex of characters as we are. Then there are the extras, little more than set dressing to the happenings of our lives, but to them, we're the dressing. We become that guy standing on the subway, wearing the black jacket, or that girl walking down the street in uncomfortable shoes. More to the point that is all we will ever be in their stories, one-dimensional creatures. A few pixels in the background of a picture they took once. A voiceless body on the streets at night. All our problems, our thoughts, our wishes, our hopes, and fears, and loves, are nothing to them. Even celebrities are just faces on a screen. Yes, we may know their names and facts about their lives, but they still aren't the heroes of our stories.

This leads to a wrong-headed understanding that we are somehow important. We never imagine it will be us who dies, who has the accident, who gets the heart attack. How could it be us? We are the hero? But statistically, in a zombie uprising you are more likely to wind up as Shambling Corpse #43 than a survivor. Sonder is a state of understanding that we are not significant, at least not any more so than anyone else around us.

"Everyone driving faster than me is a maniac, and everyone driving slower than me is a moron." Realizing that that is not true is sonder.

Ever since I was a kid sitting in the back seat watching the passing cars I have wondered about the people in them. Where were they going? What did they do? Were they happy? Sad? Maybe that is just part of being a writer, a storyteller. I try to find the story in everyone I meet, but sometimes I also try not to. When you see everyone in the world as a potential diamond, than you realize that you are no different, no more special, than anyone else. We strive to be the Waldo, but sometimes we can't be. And sometimes we have to acknowledge that it's okay not to be.

And where is Waldo? He is hidden amongst a multitude of people and crowds, but we ignore all those people. All we want to do is find this one man in a weirdly striped shirt. Hell, it's the name of the game. It's become a cultural expression. We look for the needle in the haystack while ignoring the hay, but have you ever stopped to look at the other people occupying Waldo's world? They are alive, they have their own problems and triumphs. There are firemen putting out a fire started by three incompetent chefs. There’s a car accident, a man in scuba gear in the fountain, kids crossing the street, a janitor being attacked by birds, and two LARPers making their own amusement on a rooftop. All those people have lives, and maybe even animated spouses and children and pet parakeets waiting for them at home.

They are all completely oblivious to the idiot in the red and white hat and hiking gear. In fact, of all the people on the page, I would argue Waldo is one of the more boring ones. Sure he is seeing the world, but is he living in it? Whenever we see him he's alone, never engaged with another person or doing something wacky or fun. He just stands there. So, yes, he is the main character, but is that always the best thing?

A state of sonder does not mean to imply that we are not unique, just not as unique as we sometimes think. You are not a diamond among the rough, just a diamond among many others. Still, a diamond is a diamond, and if more people thought like like this, if more people experienced sonder, than maybe the world would be a better place. After all, there is a benefit to not being Waldo, to being the guy standing above it all, looking down on the world and its all beauty and fountain scuba diving. When you stop thinking of yourself as something different you get to see how truly alike we all are.

There will never be another you, but there will also never be another person like your mailman or that taxi driver that ran those two red lights or your baby niece in her crib. When you understand sonder, you understand how precious the world is, and how truly lucky we are to spend a few years passing through it.