Run with it.

I’ll be honest (like I often am throughout these posts), whenever I got an idea for a blog it often occurred when I was watching a show/movie or listening to music. My last post was inspired by a fictional green Star Wars character, and I got the idea for this blog that I am currently writing when I was binge watching the show Narcos. Random, I know, but inspiration can hit at those moments when you’re least expecting it, and when it does one should listen to that voice in your head and run with it. Many times, I felt inspired by Percival Everett’s character Not Sidney, because I saw myself in him; how he coped with losing a parent and being thrusted into many situations that were wild and out of his control. Obviously, I wasn’t taken in by Ted Turner when my father died eleven months ago, but that feeling that Not Sidney has in the novel-about not knowing who he is, about longing for something that’s no longer there, is something I related to.

I enjoyed reading I Am Not Sidney Poitier by Everett simply because of the main character that was clearly struggling throughout the novel, making him real as he grew up feeling out of place even though he could “control” people with his mind. Now that I’ve had time to digest and unpack the act Not Sidney often did when he wanted to feel power over a situation, it makes sense to me. Throughout his life, Not Sidney had a lot of things happen to him: His mom dying when he was a young boy, his extreme inheritance, Wanda Fonda making advances toward him when he was still a kid, getting sexually abused by his teacher followed by no one believing him when he came forward, being arrested just because he was black, dating a girl who’s family was incredibly racist and the list goes on. In his head, when he wanted that feeling of power, when he needed that moment to believe that he was in control of people he used his “fesmerization” skill on them. He took that feeling of helplessness back and claimed it as his.

I think it’s pretty interesting when people can relate so heavily to a character that’s entirely made up, and I am one of them. When I need to feel in control, like Not Sidney does, I often imagine myself to be Princess Leia because when I was younger, I saw her as an icon for female power and it hasn’t changed now that I am twenty. When I need to feel powerful when speaking with my boss, I often imagine myself as a calmer version of Walter White from the show Breaking Bad, not wanting to feel nervous or coming off like I am a pushover. It might be silly, and it definitely sounds it, but when someone is able to relate to something separate from the situation they’re going through and are able to lean on the thing that makes them feel safe and comfortable in their own space, it truly makes all the difference. Not Sidney did this by using his eyes, seeming to hypnotize his victims into making them do whatever he wanted, and it eased his stress.

In a way, I feel personally indebted to Everett now because it hasn’t yet been a year since my dad died, and transferring to Geneseo this past September felt wrong in a way because I was leaving everything I knew to come to a school that was hours away from my family, friends and the familiarity of belonging. I feel indebted to him because his novel I Am Not Sidney Poitier helped me get over the huge speedbump I was facing, that final hurtle of needing to let go of the guilt I felt, and being able to relate to Not Sidney in the way that I did when first reading it, gave me that boost. Everett, without knowing it, helped me get over one of the worst feelings I’ve ever had, simply by creating a character with a name that was never understood by the people around him. It’s amazing how literature, better yet, how art can do such a thing, how it can heal and provide inspiration when it’s most needed. I’ve learned throughout this semester, especially in English 203 that things happen for a reason. The universe is tricky, plays jokes, pulls the rug out from under you but it’s also there to catch you when you fall. And I felt it when I walked into that classroom on the first day, not knowing who in the world Percival Everett was but I was eager to find out, and that was for good reason.

It feels kind of weird knowing that this is my last blog post, and I honestly don’t know how to end it. When I look back to the first post I wrote and compare it to my most recent I am amazed at how much my writing has strengthened in that short amount of time. I’ve learned to unpack, dig, take my time and actually know what I am saying while writing. I have grown as a student as well as a person from my time in this class and I honestly wouldn’t trade that for anything. Yikes. That was cheesy.

Fin.

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