Agency, à la Lewis Carroll

I must have watched the Disney version at least a dozen times when I was a kid. None of the characters made any sense. They were irrational and outrageous, and every single time, I hoped that somebody – the Cheshire Cat, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, even anyone in the Queen’s court – would be merciful to Alice. She just wanted to get back home, but the maze became increasingly tangled. This was a major study of human behavior for me, though I didn’t realize it when I was eight years old. Disney seemed to run and rerun this after bedtime, but I remember not getting in trouble for staying up late to watch it. So it could also have been during the summer, or my parents may have used the underlying moral of weighing the consequences of our actions to teach me a few lessons about life. Which, as you know, none of Alice’s consequences in Wonderland made any sense.  It may be responsible for my inability to make decisions. Or at least think any choices I make would worsen any situation. On the other hand, this animated film probably warned me never to do drugs. (However, I really liked the drowsy dormouse, but that doesn’t explain why I also liked the croquet set, especially the seemingly sober hedgehog. The point of the movie was never to explain anything, anyway.) But it never stopped me from sneaking MTV while my parents weren’t home: maybe I had a secret crush on Simon Le Bon, and Madonna was the coolest, with her 80s eyebrows. Alice in Wonderland may also justify my juvenile (onset, progressing to adulthood) pyromania and my love for academic teams.

The video came from this link, which a friend on facebook shared. I thought it was cool.