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15 November 2008 @ 08:05 pm
Theatrical Muse: Week 257: Question 257  
Name: Dr. Sid Hammerback

Fandom: CSI: New York

Word Count: 1095


Specious.


Specious, what a wonderful word. Sexy, much like other words of a similar makeup, such as sublime, surreal and, well, simplicity, I think. A word that drips out of one’s mouth with simplistic intention, intended as such, to be a form of inquiry or derision. And of course, it conveys a rather complex conundrum of facts, puts the idea across in just one, simple word, one set of eight conjoined letters. Four vowels, four consonants, perfect in its creation and ideal in its deliverance. To appear truthful, but to deceive at the same time is an idea, that fortunately, or unfortunately, as it may appear, is quite prevalent in the world that we live in. There are people who mask their dark side in apparent brightness, women and men who hide their age between shades of makeup and plastic surgery. Or there is the more preferable professional businesswoman cum dominatrix, the endearing librarian who masquerades as a professional poker player during the weekends.

Many years ago, as history plays it, we were forced into hiding our weaknesses, and sometimes even our strengths. In the Victorian Era, women were still very much the lesser sex, and I can argue that some indeed made painted faces for themselves, acting demure and with softly spoken voices, because marrying someone with money was a good way out of their position. Further back, we look at less developed humans, Neanderthals and the such, and a similar allusion towards hiding prevails, because sometimes, you couldn’t really show your true colours, as otherwise, death might be imminent from somewhere or something that could pick out a vital clue as to a path your own destruction.

As humans, in the modern day, we play our strengths and weaknesses, not only to our own desires, but to the wants and influences of other people. We pretend that we are ok; many of us do, passably, when really we aren’t, because we gain the misguided sense that weakness and vulnerability are still wrong and incorrect. Something we may not like about ourselves, which may actually be a bit valuable, we tuck away and replace with something else that appears quite true, but isn’t. As humans, we hide, so much of ourselves, replacing it with falsehood and misleading appearances, because, we are afraid of what our real self might do to people, to others, to us. I give, as a collection of beings, we don’t do this all the time, but it is something we are susceptible to, changing ourselves, moulding ourselves into falsehood, even if it is just for a minute, a moment, a day, a few seconds. I am guilty of it also, pretending to show something else and feeling something completely different, although I do it less than I used to.

The sadder half of it, however, is that being a race susceptible to speciousness, while sometimes beneficial, as it may lead us to having more open minded opinions and broadening our general horizons, it can also be darker than horrible. Not just pretending to be ok, and not really being ok, no, no, much darker and more horrible than that. Speciousness, is a word that really, I can relate to some of my victims, and if you take all of them as a sum number, than, many of them, yes. Teenagers, mainly, who may not be something that their peers want, but who pretend to be that way to fit in. They change themselves, they put themselves out there as the ones willing to drink all those drinks, take all those drugs or sleep with all those people. And for any of them, doing such things, especially in excess, as it happens when they try to fit in with a crowd, sometimes, leads to more unfortunate circumstances. Not only do they get sexually assaulted by an angry, supposed friend, or a friend of a friend, but they can overdose on drugs or alcohol, or both. Then they end up on my table, left to my cautious hands to open them up and take their past life apart, to discover what exactly cause it to not continue.

I culminate in saying that even I can be a specious person. Marianne and I often passed ourselves off as people in a certain way, that wasn’t really what we were like, most of the time. This wasn’t a dark play pretend, just simplistic masquerading as we went about our own voyeuristic adventures. We dressed up, we used collars, we switched from submission to dominance, to slave, to master, to all these glorious things, that seemed true, that were true, but that weren’t true everyday and every waking moment. True, I suppose that is not the explicit meaning of specious, but it is a variant of it as such, and is very much what sexual play and relationships can be about, on occasion, of course. Making ourselves plausible as something that wasn’t true, often made some things that could be boring, quite a lot of fun. Playacting, or acting, as we sometimes did, involved that in copious amounts, because being specious, doesn’t always have to be dark. You can pretend to be someone, or act to fill that role, and it’s just pretend, so it can be stopped whenever you desire, whenever you want.

I try not to speak of death as often as I have done in the past, but this comment is not avoidable, really. After her death, I got very good at being specious in a bad way, in a very short space of time. I told people I was ok, but I went home at night and cried, or, drunk a bit, or, well, fell down stairs while being drunk. For a relatively short time, compared to the pains and woes of other people, I went down a very destructive path that could have lead to worse and more reprehensible things. I righted myself though, I saw myself good again, to more frequent happiness and positive thinking. While speciousness can lead us, down a bad path, or a good path, it holds a special occurrence in that it can be either path, as we desire. Now, when I tell people I am ok, and I may be a bit upset, it is arguable just because I’m tired and want to go home, compared to enduring recent loss and pain. Speciousness, no, I conclude, is not always a bad thing, as long as we try to do it for good reasons, that won’t turn around in the end and harm us beyond disrepair.
 
 
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