Diary of a teenage superhero

[Valorman]

If you were able to so easily correct me then obviously you knew what I meant by what I said.

No offence meant it wasint really a "correction".just my spin on the label.

and your right, alot of those guys are all talk and no action....or are they?

 

[Batjosh]

Maybe I should direct those guys to this writing. Maybe they'll be more inspired.

 

[Nightdevil]

Who's to say some are not doing this already?

 

[Pioline]

Wouldn't you hear about it? In the news and stuff?

But to really be doing that kinda stuff you would need to be in peak physical condition and that would be hard along with everything else in daily life.

 

[Nightdevil]

You'd be surprised how much the media does not report.

 

[Batjosh]

I'm sure some people out there have at least started some kind of costumed Neighborhood Watch or whatever after being inspired by a story like this or recent movies like Batman Begins. Hopefully they're helping.

 

[lokifan]

I hate to point this out, but there are people like that -- they're vigilantes and it's illegal. There are laws to protect criminals -- just because someone's mugged someone or something, it doesn't mean it's open season on them -- and people who go out and duff them up are doing something that's against the law, and just not nice. No more violence than necessary, people -- the law is there to deal with criminals.

Wow. I'm not usually this much of a party pooper.

 

[Pioline]

The law and the government don't do that much themselves, the world needs people like vigilantes to really scare criminals and enforce true justice.

If the vigilante does just catch the guys and tie them up for the police to arrest then it is a step to a better world.

 

[lokifan]

That is NOT true. The world does NOT need vigilantes. Why do you think there are police officers anyway? So they can do what must be done, but if they're brutal or unfair they're accountable. Police officers have a harder job than any vigilante, and they don't just run home after and pretend it never happened. The law doesn't do much itself? Tell that to an officer -- only do it at a distance, is my advice. The government might be paralysing them with paperwork but they still do good. You change bad systems -- you don't tear them down and start again in a fit of pique. And I don't know where you live, but in most places it seems like every successive government talks about how there's a need to get tough on crime.

 

[Batjosh]

Wow. Just as my post sits for a little over two weeks as a secure point to take inspiration away from being a real vigilante and put it toward being the eyes and ears necessary to make the authorities that much more efficient you have to come in here and start preaching as if it wasn't already taken care of. Of course, all this did was make someone want to counterpoint you and start it all over again.

Luckily, lokifan, your post above this one set what you started straight again.

Now, can we get back to waiting for a new chapter or something? I really don't want to see this turn into a debate thread.

 

[Rambo, John J]

23rd November 2005

Anyone reading this diary from start to finish would probably build up the picture that my life is one pitfall and peril after another. They'd assume that i'm a tortured individual; that i'm haunted by past mistakes; that i'm depressed, unhappy, and miserable.

That, believe it or not, isn't the case. There are moments (admittedly very few, but nonetheless there) when i'm able to sit back, relax, and actually enjoy my life, such as it is. Christ, i'm a superhero for crying out loud! I actually have an alter-ego! A double life!

And most of the time I forget how intrinsically cool that is. When I started doing this, it was out of some vain, self-appointed, matter of 'duty'. Of serving a 'higher purpose.' In the story of our lives, we're always the hero. No matter what.

A person could be an absolute scumbag, a piece of complete filth; but from their point of view, they're the victim/ hero/ protagonist. A victim of external persecution and subject to ridicule and judgement from a society that doesn't understand them. They're the 'tortured hero.'

When I started doing this, I saw myself in the role of 'noble, self appointed, sacrificial hero'. The nerd who received great powers and was under an obligation to use them for good, rather than evil. Any opportunity that came along which may have bettered my life in some way i've either consciously or sub-consciously sabotaged, all so that I can continue to play my 'role'.

And the weird part is, I enjoy it. I enjoy misrepresenting myself (to the extent that numerous people can't stand me), I enjoy shedding and donning personalities and personae at will; I enjoy having a life that is fraught with danger and has me depressed and melancholy one moment, and riddled with excitement and adrenalin the next.

One of my favourite Shakespeare plays - The Merchant of Venice, has one of the lead characters claim forlornly 'The world is but a stage, with every man his part to play, and mine a sad one.' For the longest time, i identified with the character. As far as I was concerned, the line was describing me. I enjoyed my misery, hell, I wallowed in it. But with the realisation that I am melancholic by nature came the just as revealing realisation that I can tolerate my own gloom. And from that, the realisation that I choose to be this way, just as being the MiB is now a choice, rather than a vocation.

There was a point to all this at some stage, but I think it got lost in the middle of one of my self-indulgent existential musings.

What else? Oh yes, I may have mentioned this before - I lost my job a few weeks back. (Well, not lost, so much as had it stolen from me). Heh, just joking, kind of. Basically, the story is that my job was a temp job, only for a year. At the end of the year, they decided to make the position permanent (apparently my work was 'vital to the city of Belfast' - in more ways than one city councillors - if only you knew!) but in order to be able to do so legally, they had to allow other people to apply. And someone else got the job. The real rub though, is that it was a guy I went to university with and had helped out by giving him information for his interview!

At the time I was pretty annoyed (at myself mostly) but i'm now certain it's yet another example of my sub-conscious sabotage. And now, with a few weeks to mull things over, i'm actually quite happy about it. I get kicked out of here in a few weeks, and i've decided to just take the month of December off. No work, no hassle, nothing. It'll give me a chance to recharge the batteries and sort a few things out. I'll be able to focus properly on the MiB for a change and not be living life as an exhausted automaton.

I can't wait.

 

[Agentdemon]

wait a minute, why didn't Wiki state that MIB is a fictional character!? I'm glad you posted again even if it was short.

 

[lokifan]

Cool, dude. You're famous!!! (Bit freaky though. You're not real...right? LOL) And sorry for bringing this up again -- don't tell me off, I know it's dumb -- but I wasn't preaching, Batjosh. It's just, show me a vigilante who doesn't go too far and I'll show you a police officer. (And not always them.) I don't know of anyone who's stopped themselves.
Anyway, dumbass, WITNESSES are the eyes and ears of the authorities. Since when do you have to be a vigilante to help? I'm not, and I helped catch a rapist two years ago.

 

[Nightdevil]

Who says the MiB is a fictional charater?

Loki, I tip my hat to you.

 

[Agentdemon]

Who says the MiB is a fictional charater?

The fact that there isn't one single news source that mentions a MiB, you'd think if this guy was actually doing what the story says there would be some news attention, at least in ireland.

(edit - just got an email from J with the following link, the MiB vigilante is no longer listed:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Man_in_black )

 

[Batjosh]

Cool, dude. You're famous!!! (Bit freaky though. You're not real...right? LOL) And sorry for bringing this up again -- don't tell me off, I know it's dumb -- but I wasn't preaching, Batjosh. It's just, show me a vigilante who doesn't go too far and I'll show you a police officer. (And not always them.) I don't know of anyone who's stopped themselves.
Anyway, dumbass, WITNESSES are the eyes and ears of the authorities. Since when do you have to be a vigilante to help? I'm not, and I helped catch a rapist two years ago.

You are right about witnesses, but witnesses aren't always around at any convenient time. Sometimes, people have to forcefully put themselves in the right places at the right times. That's what I'm talking about.

This has nothing to do with going around and beating people up while wearing a cape. Dumbass.

BTW: Great chapter.

 

[Rambo, John J]

28th December 2005


More than likely this will be the final entry of this year. I had one typed up last week - it was tough writing it. Every once in a while I just want to spill everything (heh, like Chunk from the Goonies) to someone, but I can't, so this diary compensates for that. I'd typed a great entry last week and was all ready to upload it when the work computer went on the fritz, and it was just like... damn.
Having spent a good few hours getting down my troubles on screen and watching it get wiped in about two seconds flat kinda left an empty taste in my mouth, and I couldn't face writing it down again straight away. Basically, it was pretty much more of the same - angst, guilt, derring-do, the usual, but to translate so much of yourself to text and to watch it destroyed in the blink of an eye is absolutely demoralising. Budding writers - you know what i'm talking about. But even for writers, well... (and i'm assuming fiction writers here) as my brother (himself an accomplished writer) used to say 'If it's up here' (taps forehead) 'in the first place, then there should be no problem getting it down in print again.'
But that's fiction. I'm writing a dairy. The truth (well... my truth). A journal of my life. Such as it is.
Feelings that I was having last week aren't the same as what I feel now. All I have is a memory of those feelings, but what I was feeling then is important to my diary and for that, i'll try and encapsulate the memory as best I can.


Basically, I play a role. To everyone. One role to one group of people, and another role to another group (and never the twain shall meet). But what happens when the role begins to pervade my own underlying personality?
Essentially it's a technique in self-help psychology which can be used in all walks of life - fake it til you make it. If you pretend to be something you're not for long enough, eventually you'll end up being that which you've been faking. An alcoholic maintains that he doesn't want alcohol until he wakes up one day and realises he doesn't want it. A smoker maintains that they don't want a cigarette until one day they wake up and bingo! They actually don't want one anymore. You get the idea.
Undercover policemen also have the same thing - called 'going native', whereby they eventually assume the guise, persona and behaviourisms of the person they're pretending to be. In some cases to the point where they become a criminal as well.
In my life as the MiB, i've had to keep up a facade of constant flakiness. A facade that presents to everyone else, 'I only care about myself.' I didn't mind being misinterpreted as a flake, as long as I knew I wasn't. Well... that I was (a flake), but only for the right reasons.
For me, I assumed that since I was ok with being a flake, others would be ok with it too. Like an unspoken; accepted ongoing joke - 'You mean Marty's not coming? Ha! What a character! I knew he wouldn't'. That was until a few weeks ago when, at my brother's (that I live with) surprise birthday party I got the absolute dressing-down of a lifetime in front of practically everyone I know.



I'd gotten together with a few other siblings to discuss the party and we decided to hold it in another brother's house. I was put in charge of organising the decor (James Bond theme), a few bits and pieces of food, and with actually getting my brother there. Even as I agreed to the tasks, I was already forgetting them. Because that's what flakes' do, right? They forget things, they screw up. They wreck other peoples' plans because they only look out for themselves. I was mentally telling myself to not forget what it was I was supposed to do re: the party, but I could feel the 'flake' part mentally stowing the job in the 'put off til tomorrow' file. The flake was already making excuses - already shirking responsibility by telling myself that everyone knew I was a flake and couldn't possibly be depended upon. Kind of like the three year old kid who wants to help out with something so the parent gives them sort sort of menial task just so that they can feel involved, feel important. Nobody actually expected me to follow through with these jobs!
So I forgot. And not just forgot as in 'pretend forget to further bolster my credence as a jackass' but as in 'actually, clean, totally just forgot all about it.'
I stumbled in from patrol at about 5 am on the morning of the tenth of December, vaguely aware that there was something I should be doing. It was a Saturday, and i'd had a really hectic Friday night. So much for the season of goodwill. It seems that all people want to do nowadays is get drunk and kick the crap out of each other. Or worse. Still, i'd saved another few people from being hospitalised and a girl being raped among other things.
I was exhausted and covered in bruises - some old some new. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I was out like a light.
I awoke around four pm to the buzzing of my mobile. As soon as I awoke, I knew exactly what i'd forgotten. I answered the phone with (more than a little) trepidation.
''Where the hell are you!?'' My brother snarled viciously. ''You were supposed to be here hours ago!''

I stalled, ''Uh....''. Magnificent.

''Look, just forget it, ok. We'll take care of your job. Just make sure you get T over here on time!'' With that, my brother slammed the phone down, and I was left feeling somewhat stupid, embarrassed, and more than a little guilty.
Still, I got T (the birthday boy) over to the party at the appointed time, but as we walked in, and eveyone yelled 'Surprise' and tried to look enthusiastic, there were unmistakable contemptuous glowerings in my direction from all angles.
So far so bad.
I survived the initial onslaught of recriminations, dirty looks and downright shunning quite admirably. Believe me, I was already beating myself up big style over this one. Then my friends arrived.

I looked up surprised, as they entered. 'I forgot I'd invited you guys!'

My brother stepped in. 'You didn't. I did.

Bollocks.

Amazingly, I also got over that debacle with relatively little earbashing.

Then my father arrived.

As he looked around the house, admiring the decor, he turned to me and said 'Well done Martin. Good job.' As I opened my mouth to speak, to set him straight, one of my sister's walking past cackled in amusement. 'Him!' she squalled, 'He couldn't organise a piss up in a brewery. We had to do it ourselves! Frankly, I'm amazed T's even here.'
As my dad heard this, his expression gradually shifted to one of good nature amiablity to that of apoplectic fury.
And that, friends and neighbours, is where the fun began.
My dad started yelling at me in front of everyone about how irresponsible i'd become. About how he thought i'd been raised better. About how he couldn't beleive that I was a child of his. Ouch.
An absolute deluge of recrimination, blame, and near-naked loathing from everyone spewed forth. Every. Single. Person. It was an earthquake of accusation and objurgation with myself at the epicentre. Constant flakiness; lying about where I was; not being dependable; leaving halfway through the night; hell, even not doing housework. Everything that I could possibly be blamed for, I was - and then some. I have never felt so bad in all my life. And the worst part was, what everyone was saying was true. Everything I was being accused of was bang on the money. And I had no defence. All I could do was stand and take it and hope it wouldn't last too long. An absolute verbal attack of epic proportions that seemed to last forever, and when it was over, my dad just shook his head dejectedly and walked away, a look of complete disappointment on his face.
I left the party shortly afterwards, I don't think anyone noticed, or even cared. As I walked home, I found myself beginning to get angry, defiant and resentful. I wasn't a flake, I told myself. If only they knew what i've done, what I do! I'm not that bad person they all think!
Dodgy territory in terms of self-justification. You do something for a specific reason that know one knows but only you. People blame you for your behaviour which leads to you resenting them for not understanding your reasons. Basically an ego-maniacal, long winded way of saying, 'How dare they?' Like I said, dodgy territory. It can lead to mutual resentment; hatred; for no reason whatsoever.
I forced myself to take each comment in turn and reflect on who had said it and whether or not I truly deserved it. And the truth is, I did deserve them. Each and every single one. There are times when I could have followed through on a promise or an arrangement to meet someone but just haven't - not only to further perpetuate my flaky personality, but also out of sheer, inexcusable laziness. Some guy, huh?
I was too dejected to even go out on patrol, and by the time I got home, tears which had been held at brink, silently washed down my face. When I woke up the next day, it took me a moment to remember why I was so miserable. Then I remembered. I had done what I had set out to do - subconciously or otherwise - alienated myself from practically everyone I cared about.
When something of this magnitute happens, you are faced with a choice. You can either start apologising and making reparations or.... or you can shut yourself off. For what useful purpose I do not know, but some people do it. rather than take the simple step of saying 'sorry' and burying the hatchet, they just close themselves off, mentally and physically from others. I picked up my phone and dialled my brother. He answered the phone groggily - i'd probably just woken him up, 'Hello?.. Hello....?'

I took a deep breath.....




....and hung up.

I haven't spoken to anyone since.

 

[Agentdemon]

Depressing entry but still great.

 

[Batjosh]

Great entry. You bring the drama of both sides of yourself out, both as a Vigilante and as a human being. It's similar to reading the journal of any young Marvel Superhero.

 

[Rambo, John J]

Cheers guys. I'm glad you folks are still into this.

 

[Batjosh]

You keep writing and I'll keep reading.

 

[Rambo, John J]

24th January 2006

Two wrongs don't make a right, but perhaps if applied correctly, the second one will ameliorate the damage caused by the first. Or perhaps i'm just talking crap again.

After my last entry, I spent a good deal of time alone. (Well... I'm always alone, but this... this felt different. As though I knew there was going to have to be some sort of cathartic change at the end.)

I can't spend my life living a lie. I can't carry on pretending to be a complete prick while simultaneously feeling victimised because no one 'understands me.' So the result from that change (which indeed was completely cathartic - emotionally you realise, not the other way) was to totally shrug off the 'lad' persona. As a tool in throwing people off the scent of what I do, it's done it's trick a little too well. I didn't anticipate that it would have such an effect on me to find that most people have an incredibly low opinion of me. So I abandoned it. But now i'm beginning to wonder if i've changed one course of foolishness for another...

Cue the 'nice guy' persona. I'm now servile, humble, apologetic (even to the point of apologising for even existing), kind, thoughtful, serene and pensive. I even bought fake glasses for chrissake. Talk about a living cliche. Mild mannered office ***** by day, vigilante by night. But here's the kicker - i'm actually happy. I enjoy being nice to people. I enjoy being a complete pushover and a complete unassuming pleb. And it's not a case of being happy because i'm like, ''Ha ha you stupid people, if only you knew who I really am! Though you may mock mild mannered Marty, you marvel at the nocturnal activities of the MiB!!'' It's not like that at all. I genuinely like being helpful.

And not just to people I know either. I'm a walking embodiment of the 'nice guy'. From people I meet in the street, to people on the bus and pretty much everyone in between. I'm unfailingly polite, pleasant and courteous. And I love it!

Maybe it's because helping people is now one of the things i'm actually good at, I don't know, but I do get a major kick out of it.

And the strange thing is, no one around me really batted an eyelid at this somewhat miraculous change. It was almost literally a case of leaving work on Friday evening an *******, come in Monday morning a complete diamond. All I had to say was that I was turning over a new leaf for the new year. Interestingly, one of the girls in work who would fall into the 'well above average' in the intelligence dept. remarked that 'the w**ker personality didn't really suit you anyway Marty.'

I should have done this ages ago. And I squared things up with the folks as well. I called my dad and apologised, saying that I would change. I called up my brothers and sisters saying the exact same. I even called an ex girlfriend who i'd treated like crap and taken for granted all in the name of futhering my 'lad' personality.

So, new year, new me, and new MiB. I still have the same scars and bruises though (not to mention a few new ones.) I've been patroling a bit closer to the city centre - mainly around parts that aren't covered by cctv, and... ugh... just the things some people (and by people I mostly mean guys) will do - for practically no reason at all - is beyond me. And i'm not even talking rape or muggings here, I mean sheer senseless violence just for the hell of it. It really does make me want to vomit. How can people be that... unfeeling? And i'm aware of the irony of that statement given that i'm saying it and given my track record when it comes to feelings. Ugh... the whole thing makes me want to be sick. Anyway, I'm typing this on my work computer, and I really need to get back to work, so i'll finish this later.

 

[Nightdevil]

How I've missed this thread.

 

[gliderpilotgirl]

Wow, I just discovered this thread..a fantastic read. Keep up the good work Rambo!!

 

['The One']

Hi m8, I've read most of what you've typed and I think we have an understanding. By that, I mean I think we need more heroes in this world (like you probably do too.) I think they should make a film trilogy of what you say you've done. They could call it 'A Hero's Diary'/'The Hero Diaries' or something like that. Seriously, that would be well good.

Apart from that, you could just continue with what you're doing and protect people, man.

Respect! Credit where it's due!