Monday, 9 November 2015

I fell into some kind of...

I wish I was a rock person, with tattoos and piercings and unnaturally coloured hair.

Oh, I could get tattoos, and piercings, and dye my hair (it's been blue, and the only reason for the lack of the others is my chronic indecision and puny fear of stabby kinds of pain.) I could listen exclusively to rock and metal.

And it would all be stupid because it's not me. It never has been me. My favourite kind of music is the kind which starts with an acoustic guitar amongst silence and has delicious melty kinds of harmonies in the singing and emotion in the voice and usually sings about something which is surreal or metaphorical at best and nonsensical at worst. I like rock. I love rock. But I always come back to the indie guitars, because they speak to my soul.

I'm not confident. I'm not a risk taker. I'm rubbish at make up, and anyway, I'm too lazy. I like smoking but I'm too scared of the health risks for "looking cool" to be a factor any more, and so it just doesn't seem worth it.

I want to be a hippy, a free-spirit running free, living in some kind of nomadic camp with seven half-related children and braided hair and bare feet and some kind of livestock, which we'd name and never be able to kill. Eschewing everything and throwing out the rules and just leaving. This isn't me either. I love technology, medicine and science. I am not overly comfortable with getting too close to nature. I am actually not a natural mother. I dislike wearing skirts. I get antsy holed up in a small space with other people for too long and I can sometimes explode in frustration.

I literally want to be a freaking punk rocker with flowers in my hair. Even though that is not a thing I somehow simultaneously want both. How inconveniently uncool and ridiculous of me.

I don't know why I so obsess over having some kind of tribe and instead don't just accept that I am who I am - indie guitar, unbrushed mousy hair, stripes and hoodies and comfortable clothes in non flashy colours and lack of accessories to boot. I read too much (mostly online, these days) and I will forget random things that you tell me, and give you information that you already know because I'm totally incapable of resisting the urge to be helpful, especially when it isn't needed, apparently. When I'm at home, I play Sims. No, I don't want to play a game that is cooler. I don't say the right thing at the right time. I'm much better at translating my thoughts to type than to speech. I guess I don't need a tribe, because I'm actually fine. I just wish I didn't feel this huge irrational jealousy at anybody I perceive has things way more together than I do.

Oh my god just literally click any moment of this and tell me how anybody could not find it hauntingly beautiful. (Except I actually don't think the first song is a great starting point.)

(I have set an alarm to at least work on a post once every three days, so we'll see where that takes me.)