Character Flaw

David Addison. You might remember Bruce Willis' character on the hit 80's sitcom "Moonlighting"? I was 16 years old, struggling to discover my true identity (not to mention burdened by the typical angst you would guess a 16-yr. old from the 80s might experience) and longing to be just like David Addison. Every Tuesday night I would tape the current episode. And, I'm not talking about VCRs or DVDs. No, sir, I'm talking about my boom box, a cassette tape and the continuous stress of encouraging my family to communicate only during commercials. Needless to say, they all became rather adept at lip reading and hand signals. But, I had to capture every quip, every sarcastic phrase that left the lips of Mr. Addison so that I would later be able to play back the tape, practice, and eventually deliver the same lines, with just as much impact (or so I thought), to my friends who were not as familiar with the show. Ok, so most of them had never even heard of it. But such is the life of obsession. Then, in 1990, my young life met tragedy for the first time, as the 5-yr. Moonlighting run came to a bitter end. Thus, I packed up my box of TDK 90-min. HD cassette tapes and appropriately dispensed of them in the nearest garbage can leaving behind my slightly insane, but entirely heartfelt, commitment to becoming a David Addison clone.

So, it is in that brief, yet frightening peek into my teen-age years, that I bring this question to the surface; and, no, the question is not whether or I am sane, but rather, what is it about fictional characters – TV, film or novel – that attracts us? Do we just find them cool and think, “hey, wouldn't it be great to be that way"? Or, is it that in happy-ending Hollywood, those characters always wind up with the things we want most in our lives, but currently lack? Perhaps they just simply strike some incomprehensible chord in that place inside our heads where the "I like me"/"I don't like me" battle rages on? I'm not sure. What I can tell you is that once that proverbial obsession magnet's is in your system, it's hard to shake it free.

Just found that out a few months ago when Fox announced its latest ER-inspired drama series "House" (of which I'm a huge fan, just for the record). Right from the pilot's opening scenes, I knew I was headed back down that road of identity crisis which imprisoned me 20 years prior. I'm older now, so obviously my resistance was much higher, and I managed to cruise through the first couple of episodes without any noticeable change in behavior. But, inside, I knew I couldn't hold back forever. It started small, as I found myself throwing out House lines, or "Housisms" as the show's faithful call them, when the right situation presented the appropriate use of such chatter. Shortly thereafter, it turned ugly, as I caught myself frequently daydreaming to the tune of "How would House handle this situation" whenever faced with crisis or a matter of confrontation. The final straw was when I began walking with a cane, a tribute to the ailment endured by the show's lead character. Actually, I'm kidding about the cane. Just wanted to make sure everyone was still paying attention. As fortune would have it, these split-persona tendencies were generally proceeded by a disappointing "Great, I'm 16 again!", as I slowly tumbled back into the land of the living, guilt-stricken, of course, realizing that 37-year old men don't go around pretending to be television characters. At least not the ones who are free to walk the streets amongst the rest of us. It was those conversations with reality that eventually led to my character-envy salvation, as I freed myself, my soul, from any further desire to be something I'm not, and made a solemn vow to take more enjoyment in who I actually am. So, while I'm no David Addison or Greg House, nor will I ever be, I like to think that I am an inspired “Planet Earth” version of both, and, for that matter, every other fictional character out there who has ever had an impact in my way of thinking (or behaving). And, in my healing process, I've come to this conclusion, and, ironically, my answer to the question posed earlier in this entry. Simply, we find in fictional characters the mirror-opposite qualities that we, ourselves, possess. It's similar to the old adage “We always want the things we cannot have.” But, for the few lucky ones, like myself, we eventually come around and realize that although “you can't always get what you want”, “if you try sometimes, you just might find, you get what you need” just by being yourself.