Back down the mountain

Vision Of Escaflowne series, epilogue

I was a teenager when I first sampled this show 30 years ago, and the comparison is interesting:

First, Hitomi and Van’s total inability to vocalize, or even understand, how they feel for each other really made sense to me as a teenager.  Now it just seems exasperating and foolish. Say how you feel! Work it out as you go!

Second, everything in the alternate world, especially the giant robots, completely anchors this anime in the 80’s and 90’s.  And these tropes are now so dated they’re almost novel again. … Almost, but not.

Third, I can see why it’s revered as a series, and not just for the art and music, but because it’s fairly well written … sometimes.  The way smart dialogue and editing are freely mixed with stupid ideas can be a massive letdown.  (See episode 19.)

And fourth, Hitomi’s pendulum-like swings between mopey depression and screaming freakout – mostly about not wanting the war to happen but also about minor romantic problems – conjured strong memories of a relationship I was in as a teenager.

I think the best term to cover what I see in Hitomi, and saw in this person, is “Borderline Personality Disorder“. But to tell you the truth, I find the line suspiciously blurry, between this so-called “disorder” and unremarkable and near-universal teenage angst.  So in both cases – Hitomi and the person I dated – I would not be surprised if their “symptoms” faded well into the range of normal by the time they turned 30 and life stabilized for them.  I wonder if I should Google that person and see if the internet knows their fate…

I remember being that melodramatic, and that intensely focused on romance.  I remember trying hard to shape everything I wore, every social event I chose, everything I said in the moment, to get the attention of some person I was obsessed with.  I remember obsessing over the positioning of my arm on a couch:  Too close?  Could I move it closer?  Even my diet and hobbies and reading list:  “That person’s vegan? I want to be vegan too. They like hiking boots? I’m gonna get some really good hiking boots and wear them around campus.”  For a while I wore giant wool socks and actually tucked my pants into them, because I’d seen Tori Amos doing it on a poster in a dorm room.

On her: Playful and fun. On me: Massive, massive dork.

I can’t say I miss it.  Every time I think about how much fun it was to feel those deep emotions just from mundane socializing, another much bigger self-critical thought cancels it out:

“You were very foolish then.  You were in college for six years and failed out with no degree.  You wasted a ton of money on tuition, ruined several perfectly good cars, failed to connect with your extended family, and spent every spare ounce of brainpower obsessing over making out with girls. In the end you broke up with the girl you probably should have married and went chasing after a different one, and that was a dumpster fire of a relationship that burned out in due time.  So really what you ended up with was nothing.  The part-time job you took at a software company to pay your bills was the only smart move you made, and from that your entire career unfolded.  What a waste of time; what an idiot.”

I know I’m being too hard on that embryonic self.  All that obsessing over girls socialized me, and made me a better romantic and relationship partner and a better friend, which turned out to be worth something in the years beyond.

And sure, in retrospect it would have made sense to marry that girl with the possible “borderline personality disorder”, because we had a deep emotional connection, similar senses of humor, very complementary conversational styles, similar politics, and she was drop-dead gorgeous.  But would it have worked out? What kind of partner would I have been? There’s a lot of necessary stuff I didn’t bring to the table, at the time:  Some sense of a career or purpose, self-confidence, the ability to know and ask for what I needed, et cetera. And, cards on the table:  I was really bad at sex.  Like, I was a decent kisser, and could do a great shoulder rub, but beyond that?  Clueless.  And so was she. We were mostly getting by on my enthusiasm for her body. If it had just been up to her and me, alone, to figure out all the other stuff I’ve learned from other partners since then…

Well, I would have gone through quite a different evolution as a person. I think that’s a thought I want to explore a bit more; perhaps over the coming days.