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Why a rabbit? Or: The Dandelions of Everest
17 years ago
So, recently, I've been reexamining why my avatar is a rabbit. I've been noted to have a fiendishly devilish imagination, and there is certainly no short order of creatures that would suit my craven intimacy tastes more appropriately than a rabbit would; so why--why on earth a brown haired, simply mundane bunny? I've mentioned why I 'started' as one. So why stay as one?
I have a couple of reasons, to be honest. The first is that, simply put, just another rabbit is forgettable. I have no tentacles, no mind-controlling superpowers, no ability to spontaneously inflict being gravid unto males (though that last one sounds almost perversely fun, in a punishing sorta way), though I indulge many, many things in fantasy. This is based off something a writer I consider closer than a family member told me, a long ling time ago, sort of a litmus test for role-play: Take your character concept--The super-powers, the super-absurd color scheme, the pink eyes and sparkles and "OMG SO HAWT" ability to seduce anything under the sun just by batting your eyelashes--and dump it. Seriously, dump all of it. Give them brown hair, and brown eyes, and ask yourself:
"Is there still anything to this person?"
Since I myself am being represented, sort of, I think that if Springs is memorable, it's not because of special abilities or secret undercover uberpowers or sexy sexy bodies, but... because I'm a person, who shares hopes, dreams, desires, and has a fun time doing it. It connects with my thoughts on life: If there isn't any reason for springs to be, springs simply ISN'T. ...That's happened a lot lately, and I regret it. It's something I've stuck to, though... and everyone I've ever had dealings with who has remembered me, well.. I've treasured memories of them, too. Flash can distract people, but substance is what I remember.. and dream of.
There's one final reason. I have a hard time really putting it into words, but if I had to try, I'd compare it to the following story: A man once climbed an incredible mountain. He suffered tremendous loss along the way--he took grave injuries, and at times thought he would not survive to descend again. All the same, as he managed to scrabble to the ledge closest to the top of the mountain, with a view that overlooked the whole of the land in all its incredible majesty--and, as he collapsed against the wall, his hand found purchase on a dandelion. A dandelion, hundreds of thousands of spiraling feet in the air, at the tip of a mountain, one just like he'd seen hundreds of people decry as a weed, one that people were ever trying to get rid of and only curbing. He sat there for some time, admiring the dandelion in all its simple elegance,
He reflected on his life. For all the triumph making it up the hill alive give him, for all the struggle and sacrifice, for everything--one lone dandelion had reached the peak long before he, judging by how well it was rooted. Humblest of flowers, so common, so silly--and yet here, in the harshest chill, it lived, because it chose to live on no matter where and no matter how.
He made it home, because he saw truth in that one moment.
I have a couple of reasons, to be honest. The first is that, simply put, just another rabbit is forgettable. I have no tentacles, no mind-controlling superpowers, no ability to spontaneously inflict being gravid unto males (though that last one sounds almost perversely fun, in a punishing sorta way), though I indulge many, many things in fantasy. This is based off something a writer I consider closer than a family member told me, a long ling time ago, sort of a litmus test for role-play: Take your character concept--The super-powers, the super-absurd color scheme, the pink eyes and sparkles and "OMG SO HAWT" ability to seduce anything under the sun just by batting your eyelashes--and dump it. Seriously, dump all of it. Give them brown hair, and brown eyes, and ask yourself:
"Is there still anything to this person?"
Since I myself am being represented, sort of, I think that if Springs is memorable, it's not because of special abilities or secret undercover uberpowers or sexy sexy bodies, but... because I'm a person, who shares hopes, dreams, desires, and has a fun time doing it. It connects with my thoughts on life: If there isn't any reason for springs to be, springs simply ISN'T. ...That's happened a lot lately, and I regret it. It's something I've stuck to, though... and everyone I've ever had dealings with who has remembered me, well.. I've treasured memories of them, too. Flash can distract people, but substance is what I remember.. and dream of.
There's one final reason. I have a hard time really putting it into words, but if I had to try, I'd compare it to the following story: A man once climbed an incredible mountain. He suffered tremendous loss along the way--he took grave injuries, and at times thought he would not survive to descend again. All the same, as he managed to scrabble to the ledge closest to the top of the mountain, with a view that overlooked the whole of the land in all its incredible majesty--and, as he collapsed against the wall, his hand found purchase on a dandelion. A dandelion, hundreds of thousands of spiraling feet in the air, at the tip of a mountain, one just like he'd seen hundreds of people decry as a weed, one that people were ever trying to get rid of and only curbing. He sat there for some time, admiring the dandelion in all its simple elegance,
He reflected on his life. For all the triumph making it up the hill alive give him, for all the struggle and sacrifice, for everything--one lone dandelion had reached the peak long before he, judging by how well it was rooted. Humblest of flowers, so common, so silly--and yet here, in the harshest chill, it lived, because it chose to live on no matter where and no matter how.
He made it home, because he saw truth in that one moment.
