Facticious

I have always considered Robin Williams to be a versatile and very talented actor. From Peter Pan to Patch Adams to Good Will Hunting, he has never failed my expectations. Tonight I am feeling a little sleepless, so I thought I'd kick in the good old blogging habit after watching yet another Robin William's movie, The Night Listener (2006). To be fair, I found it a rather predictable psychological thriller..yet another one based upon a successful American novel
( Armistead Maupin, "The Night Listener", 2000), a roman à clef as they call it. Robin Williams was intriguing in his I believe first role as an older gay writer. Gray intellectual beard, a bit of a belly, cord trousers and reading glasses look. Very intriguing,charming. The focal surprising twist towards the end is,however, not about the protagonist, but the undermining and unfathomable dualism of mental illness. Fascinating. I have always found the issue of mental illness interesting. Knowing how complex and perfect machines the human bodies are is one thing, but the ability of the mind it's quite a stunning concept. The issues highlighted by the movie can be related to a series of syndromes known as Factitious Disorders, when a person's mind is able to recreate the pathology of the illness they believe to be affected by or even arrive to the point of making illness up of their keens or even make up the people in their care. At first sight,these disorders could be assessed as blatant lies of unbalanced, shameless subjects. However, on a closer analysis it is easier to noticed that this is often the subconscious work of unhealthy people who, out of feeling unworthy of attention, recreate desperate situations, personages, "lies" which they believe will gain them more popularity. As many of you probably already know, I wrote my BA dissertation on the possible contribution of psychiatry and religion to the cure of mentally ill patients, with particular regard to schizophrenia. Despite the fact I was on the point of giving up on a number of occasions (here it's a recomandation to anyone undertaking an undergrad degree not to complicate your life with a difficoult topic for your first dissertation!!!), I thoroughly enjoyed the research and I was pleased with the end result. What stunned me the most is how mental disorders are nothing much more than the exasperation of human emotions which should make us all more symphatetic to those issues. Maybe none of us would have result to similar solutions as those highlighted by the movie (am trying real hard not to spoil the movie for you!) but who has never,not once felt unworthy of love to the point of being willing even to lie in order to feel better included? To undergo compromises. To lie. To exaggerate a story. To laugh at a rude joke. To cheat. Just for that priceless feeling of acceptance,belonging. If we think hard enough we are never too far from those we are judging and condemning.

Shattered.

Throughout my life, I have always had it in me to be a contestant, a rebel. Not necessarily 'burning my bra' in front of the masses, but always being inquisitive and, somehow, argumentative about various issues. I am of the kind of watches telly and argues-out-loud with the news reporter because he is 'talking bullshit' or vivaciously criticise the ref in an important football match I am not even at, responding on my mother's behalf when my sister is playing 'spoiled-brats' and similar.. When I was in senior high especially, I was rather obnoxious and arrogant. I even made my Faith an occasion for constant 'Bible Bashing' and verbalised debates. My all time favourite was biology, ethics and philosophy classes - best ones for open discussion. I even took it against Darwin, the Papacy and Sigmund Freud. In fact, the latter was a special target for mouthy me. I despised his theories, made his arguments a joke and bull-eyed his distressed personality. These days I like to refer to my past behaviour as 'teen-age arrogance'. As you all know one of my favourite topics is 'pantha rei', the issue of change. I feel I have changed. A lot. Having worked with troubled teens, children from disadvantaged backgrounds and people in general for quite sometime, I have grown to appreciate some more expert and wiser words from others, like Freud, for instance. One of his theories suggests that our adult behaviour is, to say the least, influenced by our upbringing. Don't get me wrong: my upbringing has been close to idyllic, perfect, dare I say. What bothers me the most right now is what my teachers said. Teachers, instructors, professors of life. I often reflect on whether most of the academic profession is totally in the wrong job. Frustrated, middle-aged, dissatisfied academics who take it onto their students through mental humiliation and lack of sufficient stimulation. My classical Greek lyceum professor, for instance, who seemed to find an incredible sense of satisfaction in humiliating me in front of my whole class by saying I would have never achieved anything in life, that I was a nobody, that I was mediocre. Isn't it weird how, at the eve of a decisive step in my life, those are the words that are resounding in my head. I not stupid, not smart; I am mediocre. I have often reflected on that woman's cruelty and often wondered whether she was a, pardon my French, b!*$%# or the only person who ever really saw right through me. I am shattered.