Edit Depressive Settings? Y/N?

At some point in the future, they will be able to edit your brain.

It will become a standard procedure, almost as common as botox injections or breast implants or even dental surgery. Cosmetic, but on the inside. Surgery to make you more mentally appealing, more mentally stimulating, more mentally capable. They will give you a paper with a list of things you can check off that you’d like to have removed. Each one will have varying prices, depending on the severity of the problem and the problem itself. Severe clinical depression, for example, would cost around $1200, but a more minor depressive state may only cost half that.

Imagine being able to walk into a hospital with a mental illness or a way of thinking and walk out completely different; now able to assimilate yourself into whatever group you’d like with no qualms. It could be covered by insurance. It could be done on a routine basis. Imagine being a new person anytime you wanted. This, along with general cosmetic surgery, it’d soon be hard to distinguish who anyone really is and what they really believe. It’s a slippery slope, as is any editing of the human condition. All at once full of promise and hope and yet tinged with danger and fraught with worry. I know I for one would take advantage of it. If I could walk into a medical facility today, say “here’s $300, please lower the anxiety level in my brain by a good percentage”, and walk out finally capable of dealing with social situations of any kind in a normal way…why wouldn’t I go for that?

They say that’s how you lose yourself. They say that depression, anxiety, any way your brain functions is what makes up who you are but what if you’re unhappy with who you are? Change is difficult. Change via medical routes is much, much easier, if one can afford such a delicacy. Perhaps, like many things, it will only be available to the rich. Or perhaps there will be a fractured group; some of the more ‘interesting’ mental health issues will only be available to be edited by the rich. The possibilities are endless, and thus, terrifying. Editing ones brain could become the ‘1%’ thing to do. And while it could have its benefits as well as its drawbacks, there will always be those opposed to anything that makes us ‘less human’. The naturalists. The ones who are against 3D printed attachments and prosthetic limbs.

People with violent tendencies could have those edited out if they wished. People with abhorrent sexual fantasies could have those wiped away if they so desired. People with homophobia, racism or sexism could have those things taken right out. Homogenized, at what the conservatives would surely call ‘a liberal brainwashing at its finest, most literal form’.

Yes, at some point in the future, they will be able to edit your brain.

What a grand future we’ll live in.


Performance Artist

up goes the curtain.

the show has begun. everything i do, every face i wear another mask you see. not something reflecting my personality, but rather something hiding a personality i don’t want to share. putting on an act, one after another, trying so hard to stay hidden in the backdrop of the curtain shadows while still remaining partway in the spotlight. just vague enough to only be mildly intriguing. a performance. that’s what i’m putting on.

i don’t want applause, or recognition, or even reviews. i simply want to put on the best, simplest one man show i can without being noticeably different. just enough to gain a lukewarm 3 ½ star write up. “not crucial, but entertaining nonetheless”. because i want to be ignored. as much as i crave what we all do-attention, and affection, and love-i also yearn to be alone. i can’t make up my mind; the theater is my home. there’s no bit players, there’s no set design and no makeup artists. no directors. all my lines are adlibbed and no yellow correctors. the first draft is the right draft, it’s the only draft there is because you don’t get a second take.

and at the end, if i’ve put on a good performance, a passable persona, perhaps there’ll be champagne. perhaps roses, or an encore. maybe i’ll softshoe and sing once more. but it’s not likely. it’s useless to pretend i like it. i prefer to be offstage. i like the dressing room, the trailer, the solitude. i hope that’s not rude but in this day and age, art isn’t just something you hang in a museum, it’s something you do everyday. i am a performance artist, and i greet every situation with a different point of view, each person gets a new “how do YOU do”. make it personal, but keep it simple. i am an artist. i am a liar. i am putting on a show.

and down goes the curtain.

(an original poem by coyotefugly)