Invisible

Every once in a while, a scene from a movie pops into my thoughts. This time, it's the movie Memoirs of an Invisible Man. It's an interesting take on what it would be like to be invisible.

One of the scenes that always stayed with me is when Chevy Chase's character tries to eat for the first time after he became invisible. Apparently, he had trouble getting the food into his mouth, because he couldn't see himself. It's a shining example of what the film tried to do with the aspect of being invisible--a lot of people often think, "what if" or "wouldn't it be cool"; this, and other examples from the film says, "it's not all it's cracked up to me."

Which is a good point. But that particular scene is just wrong. If I can see the spoon, that's all I need to get it into my mouth. I don't need to see any part of myself to deliver it properly into my mouth--I can't see my mouth in normal circumstances, anyway.


But it also got me thinking... If one were invisible, it would be difficult to sleep, 'cause even if you close your eyes, you can still see everything, since your eyelids are also invisible. But then, you would probably have trouble seeing things, anyway... Your irides (iris) and pupils are invisible, letting light in from all over, plus.. What "in"? Everything is invisible. Where would the image focus for the brain to see? The invisible man would probably go blind a few hours after he becomes invisible.