Riddoch phenomenon.

“Never mistake motion for action” said Hemingway.

Some small part of my brain keeps telling me, “But Bri, you don’t feel anything anyway.” Feeling anything would mean the reason for my feeling actually meant something. But my heart is aching and I sobbed until finally I fell asleep last night.

Interacting with people on almost any level seems to hurt. Interact on a shallow level and it seems to question my human depth and worth. Interact on a deeper level and it seems I have perhaps too many flaws. These interactions hurt me, it hurts them, to varying degrees.

More and more by the day I don’t want to interact with anyone. Not ever again.

I refuse to ever defend myself to anyone. I should not ever have to defend myself and so… won’t.

Give people too much attention and they think suddenly they are loved. Give people too little attention and they think suddenly they are hated.

I try to stay very 100% conscious at all times just how I treat people. Even when I am acting cold and distant I am careful not to act too cold and distant as to alienate someone, but just enough to get my point across that what you are saying to me is not exactly something I am interested in. It’s all very controlled interaction.

And controlling what I can make others feel hurts me. It hurts them, too, obviously. Because I can be so very cruel. But these people are equally cruel; none of us are an exception.

White space should not be considered merely ‘blank’ space — it is an important element of design which enables the objects in it to exist at all; the balance between positive (or non-white) and the use of negative spaces is key to aesthetic composition. Inexpert use of white space, however, can make a page appear incomplete.

I can hear how one co-worker will pause for 5 seconds before replying aloud to his name being called, ignoring another co-worker. And that pause says so much more than any words can. And I hate it when one of my co-workers messages me… backspacing, rewriting and hesitating just what he’s going to send to me. I can’t stand hearing the pauses and the rewrites. And then I will deliberately interact with my paperwork as though I haven’t seen his message just yet. But his Enter key echoes with such finality that it’s obvious when the message has been sent. Hearing the avoidance dripping out of someone’s ‘uhmmm’ or even just before the ‘uhm.’ I hate hearing emotions. Emotions are too loud. They’re so loud I can’t shut them out no matter how hard I try.

Negative space may be most evident when the space around a subject, and not the subject itself, forms an interesting or artistically relevant shape, and such space is occasionally used to artistic effect as the “real” subject of an image.

Emotions fill all the negative space of a person. And all I can see is the negative space. I want it to stop. I wish I were far less observant. Or ignorant. Or naive. Or any other attribute rendering me a useless human being no one wants to interact with, ever. I see the things people don’t want to show; I equally don’t want to see.

Controlling my white space renders me an incomplete portrait of a person. Just a shadow of a person. And I think a few select people have taken notice. There’s something missing. But I want to reduce myself even further: eliminate all the light, all the white space to become nothing beyond blackness. I want to reduce myself to something so dark and empty – a black void of a person – that I will no longer exist.

Riddoch syndrome (also known as the Riddoch phenomenon) is an ocular affectation often caused by lesions in the occipital lobe which limit the sufferer’s ability to distinguish objects. Only moving objects in a blind field are visible, static ones being invisible to the patient. The moving objects are not perceived to have color or detail. The subject may only have awareness of the movement without visual perception of it, or the general shape of a moving object may be perceivable as a shadow like outline.

Image Credits: NPR/Youtube

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Bullfighting

Men, real men–as in men born, bred and bored out of their minds in the Midwest–don’t spill their atrocious yellow-bellied guts out to total strangers, even licensed ones. Real men don’t swallow cute little pills to numb themselves before the world so they can keep a dumb smile on their faces at all times. Real men hunt for life, every shred of life they can handle. Take their harpoons out and try to stab sharp moving objects like sharks, piranhas and roast suckling pigs.

“Bullfighting” by Lucy Wang

In “Bullfighting” author Lucy Wang introduces a fictionalized version of Hemingway. She imagines a world in which he would say this.

Instead Hemingway really said: “…never mistake motion for action.”

Image Credits: The Generation

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