If you wish—
I’ll rage on raw meat like a vandal
Or change into hues that the sunrise arouses,
If you wish—
I can be irreproachably gentle,
Not a man—but a cloud in trousers.

Vladimir Mayakovsky has always been my favorite poet—shame that non-Russian-speakers cannot read him in his own language—but reading about his life is draining. Feeling his identity void, complete loss of everything human about him over the years—reflecting even in his appearance.

What does he have in common with Ostap Bender, the Doctor, and Lelouch vi Britannia—fictional characters who have always clicked in me? They are natural leaders, unconventional, defying, standing out in every crowd, clever and knowing it—in fact, they think they’re even better than they are.

I was wondering if I was egoistic and self-centered—after all, this blog is 99% introspection and 1% Ubuntu and popular culture. But no, after one of the Hazuki conversations, I say it’s not really so. I put others before myself, and I’ve never consciously acted in my own interest at the cost of others. Still, I did note that I evaluate people by their similarity to myself—trying to identify with them and noting how many of my traits I can see in them.

Hazuki thinks the answer is loneliness. I seek interaction, and thus I would rather not waste my time on people I cannot relate to. I immediately noted how well it fits fictional characters as well: not wanting to waste my time on something that’s obviously not catered to me, I seek works of fiction featuring characters I can identify with. They don’t have to be the main character, mind; I can relate to Natsuki Kruger just fine in what’s essentially Arika Yumemiya’s story.