Me and MIB

I sat watching Men in Black this morning and realized that I would join MIB. In fact, it might be the best place for me. And, I'm not really talking about chasing aliens and using cool weapons. That would be nice, but it is other aspects of the job that more interest me.

Early on in the film, the gorgeous Tommy Lee Jones is telling Will Smith what would be required of him should he join their ranks. The cost - the complete loss of identity and contact with anyone and everyone. Friends and family would forever be out of his life. And, he would not reestablish these sorts of ties with anyone outside of the agency. His life would restart, but much narrower than his previous one. I mentally asked the question "Would I Do That?" and "Cound I Do That?" and the immediate, instinctive answer was "Yes." I tried to take back the resounding "yes" a heartbeat later, but it was too late, of course. Could I drop everything and everyone and move on with another life? Without question. I wouldn't do it for a lark, but for some task or purpose that I deemed sufficiently important or, honestly, interesting, I would do it. And I could. I always have. I can move through life without the conscious effort to maintain relational ties. I do not crave isolation, but I accept it in a very practical fashion. And, my life is not tied to any individual(s) with sufficient force that it would be impacted overly by their absence.

This is not as callous as it sounds, really. It doesn't mean I don't love or don't care. It means that I can rope off the attached part of my soul and close it down for the season. It is a physical thing, almost. Where is that connection? Oh, there it is! Shut off the lights and lock the door. It is a technique, a device, a strategy. With the proper stimulus, I could do that for all the doorways to my life.

I am also interested in the anonymous aspect of the job from the angle of being completely unnoticable. Will Smith is told that he will be recognizable only as deja vu. Crafted to leave no lasting impression. Seen and quickly forgotten. I tire of the looks and stares. To move through the crowds of humanity with as little image as the wind is quite appealing. If I could return to my former appearance (more and more I use the word "if" and not "when"), I would likely feel differently. I am quite extroverted of personality and fill a room upon entering. I am my own party, frankly. Once I had the exterior to supplement the interior. No, I must correct that a bit. My appearance is as striking and startling as my brash manner. My reservoir of will as deep as the caverns of my cheeks. I would enjoy greatly an exterior to match my interior, but an exterior that promoted more positive reactions.

I worry some days that I am building, brick by brick, a personal keep. That I am creating my own "Cask of Amontillado" fate. That I am ensuring that whatever is visited upon me in coming months/years, there will be as little impact on others as possible. What if my health concerns are truly significant? Why pull those in my lives along for the ride to hell? Better to, like a cat, drag myself off alone to meet my fate. To fight and struggle alone, as it would leave others unscathed and untroubled. If they don't know, they can't care.