Let's End This

There is an area in Terry Pratchett's Ankh-Morpork called Cockbill Street. Its inhabitants are the kind of poor people who have Standards, the kind of people who would rather buy soap to scrub their dining tables spotless than buying food to put on it. Pratchett writes that they are "cursed with both poverty and pride".

I thought that line was phrased very nicely. It summed perfectly encapsulated the idea that you were stuck with certain value or world views that made it very difficult to exist in the world.

Fortunately, I am neither cursed with poverty nor pride. (Yet.) Nevertheless, someone picked a number of "Extra Challenge" options for me during character creation.

One of these, which I realized today, is that my world view is finely attuned to the conventional narrative structure. I see stories. I need to see stories. Where one thing leads to another with some kind of ulterior purpose. Cause and effect. Beginning and ending. Start to finish. Logic. Structure. Sense.

Meaning.

I am slowly becoming aware of how much I need my life and my experiences to fit a narrative. How my interactions with other people require a kind of causal logic. How I feel the urge to create memories around arbitrarily significant dates, instead of having the memories making that date significant.

I am squeezing my life into a narrative. Lying to myself to give my life meaning. Like that guy from Memento. Or as Terry Pratchett puts it in Hogfather:

“All right," said Susan. "I'm not stupid. You're saying humans need... fantasies to make life bearable."

REALLY? AS IF IT WAS SOME KIND OF PINK PILL? NO. HUMANS NEED FANTASY TO BE HUMAN. TO BE THE PLACE WHERE THE FALLING ANGEL MEETS THE RISING APE.

"Tooth fairies? Hogfathers? Little—"

YES. AS PRACTICE. YOU HAVE TO START OUT LEARNING TO BELIEVE THE LITTLE LIES.

"So we can believe the big ones?"

YES. JUSTICE. MERCY. DUTY. THAT SORT OF THING.

"They're not the same at all!"

YOU THINK SO? THEN TAKE THE UNIVERSE AND GRIND IT DOWN TO THE FINEST POWDER AND SIEVE IT THROUGH THE FINEST SIEVE AND THEN SHOW ME ONE ATOM OF JUSTICE, ONE MOLECULE OF MERCY. AND YET—Death waved a hand. AND YET YOU ACT AS IF THERE IS SOME IDEAL ORDER IN THE WORLD, AS IF THERE IS SOME...SOME RIGHTNESS IN THE UNIVERSE BY WHICH IT MAY BE JUDGED.

"Yes, but people have got to believe that, or what's the point—"

MY POINT EXACTLY.”

It's slightly unnerving, but as of now I don't know how, or if I even want to, rewrite my story.

Game Start,
The Edna Man