Still. It's been some time since I've sat down and actually set down how I'm feeling, what I'm doing, that kind of thing. Y'know, one of those autobiographical dealies. So I'm gonna do that tonight. It's 12:30am, I am probably incapable of setting it all down coherently, but fuck it, I'm gonna try, despite confusion, exhaustion, a bit of a chill in the air, a housemate that WON'T STOP TROLLING and a cat that won't shut up.
What a brave little soldier I am.
First and foremost I now have a tattoo. Let's see if we can't get a picture of it.
There she is. Isn't she marvellous? I'm still a little shocked I took the step, to be honest with you. So the first half of this blog post is going to be me talking about it. It is a red mana symbol from Magic, a trading card game that I may have mentioned once or twice. Before you automatically assume that I merely got a tattoo from a trading card game for the nerd credit and I shall regret this later in life, swallow your critique and bear with me a moment. This'll be a good reminder to Future Me if I ever want to know my motivations (not that I'm likely to forget).
Red in Magic is the colour of chaos, of passions unrestrained and unrefined. It is primal, potent and utterly powerful, raw and pure and all-consuming. At the risk of sounding like some stupid animie kid who is all CHAOS AND POWER YEAH AWESOME these elements really speak to me. So the first reason I got the tattoo is that I like what it represents in terms of where it came from. The second reason I got it is because it is a fireball and my fondest dream now and forever is the ability to fling them. The third reason I got it...well, in all honesty, I got it because in a way I felt like I needed to mark myself to show what I'd been through. I went through what I now view as a trial by fire, to forge myself into who I am now. I've already been marked by those flames internally. Marking myself with flames on the outside is a constant physical reminder on my frail, frail flesh of just how strong I can be when needed. I've only had the tattoo three days, and every time I glance at it I feel good about myself. There could be no greater marking.
Okay. End tattoo wank. What's next? Witches!
I mentioned in an earlier post that I've been cast in the lead role of a university production. The production is of The Witches by Roald Dahl. The story itself is an utterly amazing testament to the ingenuity and daring of youth - a boy and his grandmother triumph against The Grand High Witch Of All The World by turning her own diabolical poison against her. And I'm the boy. The Boy, to be more specific. And in short, I am panicking. I'm surrounded by experienced student actors doing actor-like things like dramatergical work and all that jazz and I'm a kid from the middle of nowhere who's done one show and directed one show and is completely out of place and oh my god. I mean, I'm not saying I can't do it - and even if I can't do it, I'll be damned if I'm admitting that - I'm just aware of exactly how much is required of me and to be quite frank I'm scared.
It's going to be a good show though. I can feel it. So let's not freak out too much over that one, Jason.
A few little sidenotes now, I suppose, just to get them out of the way:
- I am off World of Warcraft but miss being Liri. The past few weeks I've been a tiny fish in a gigantic pond. There was something fun about being the centre of a thriving universe. However, I don't miss being Liri enough to go back to the abomination that is WoW. I'm content being Mr Small Fish and I never thought I'd say that.
- Financially, I am doing okay, I suppose. That doesn't stop me from panicking constantly. All the good video games and books I want are not making things easier. Did I mention the tattoo was two hundred dollars? Oops.
- We were going to get a dog but the landlord won't let us, all of my hate for that.
- I really miss Ben. Not for any particular reason, usually when he's around I want him to fuck off, but these days his presence and scent are sorely, sorely missed.
- I still love my housemates like mad and in fact probably appreciate them even more over the past month if such a thing is possible. The people I live with are better than you, everyone you've ever known and everyone that walks this earth. Don't argue. It's true.
- I am still involved in several dubious sexual escapades. I wish I wasn't some days, but old habits die hard. I also have feelings again. I wish I didn't, because feelings get in the way (oh god, now I sound like Jayd and before I know it I'll be an embittered, forty year old faggot who still uses Grindr and Manhunt and wants 'gym buddies'. Help me. Please.) but there isn't much I can do about it, so I'll roll with them for now and hopefully they'll fuck off in time.
- My life is filled and I am content with it, even though some days I want to tear my hair out.
I looked at him. Crew cut hair, pressed suit, not a distinguishing feature on him. Even the watch looked like it came with the company car. There was nothing interesting or unique about him beyond the fact that he looked quite young and was reasonably handsome. Nothing about him stuck in my mind and if pressed (as I am pressing right now) I could not remember a single detail about him. I think his hair was black, but it may have been brown. I think he was clean shaven but he may have worn some stubble. In short, he was faceless.
Then I had a look at myself...
Pierced ear. Pierced brow. Tattoo lurking under my clothing. Riotous blue jacket and patchwork jeans. Music in ears pumping out Placebo next to Crystal Castles next to Dead Letter Circus next to swing music, for God's sakes. Legs pumping, practically dancing along the path to home. Back from the gay rights rally with a head full of scripts, boys, dreams and soul-curdling contempt. Craving nicotine, nudity and other hedonistic things starting with the letter N.
And my god, it made me feel so much better about everything drawing that comparison.
The patchwork faggot and the man in the suit.
I'm so happy to be me.
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