Well, to start off with, here’s a photo of the Alstroemeria I picked up, yesterday. There seems to be some kind of burn on one of the petals visible (I cropped out the other burn), so I’m not sure that I’ll be using this photo for direct reference.
As time goes on, I really do wonder how much it is worth it to continue to post my art in this venue. There’s something kind of nice about having a place to keep records, but then there is also the fact that it’s nearly entirely public.
I kind of have mixed feelings about public spaces, at this time in my life.
Well, I have mixed feelings about living a public life at all…I’m fairly certain that this dislike is derived from my own past history (part of which, I went over, earlier today).
What are the alternatives?
- stop living (most obviously)
- become an agoraphobic
- go offline out of paranoia
- never show any of my art
- enter a day job which uses none of my talents
- start being evil to people who piss me off
- become a ghostwriter
- do like Banksy and the crop circle people: make and show art but never let on that I did it
- cultivate a real-world circle of friends with whom I can share my art
…I think I hit it there with #9. I’ve seen others fall into the spiral of numbers 1-6, and it’s really sad. And the people I know who do it are really (clinically) paranoid. Then again, the people I know who do it have also been attacked in public and feel unsafe in public.
I haven’t been outright attacked, but I have been assaulted. A kid trying to grab my nonexistent testes is an assault, but not (as I consider it) a direct attack. Gotta wonder what he would do if he found them, though. Scream? Flail? Windmill? Or do something stupid like twist and pull?
This reminds me of when I was facing this dilemma in University…I think I was doing a mental experiment with myself, by taking on the mindset of one of my characters. I believe that divulging the particulars of this would lead to more misunderstanding than not, so I’ll keep it covered for now, but…as for the gist of the dilemma: he was afraid that if anyone knew who he actually was, others would hate him for it, and attack and reject him, making it impossible for him to live. I got fairly deeply into this character before going a little bit more crazy and needing to stop, but it illustrates a problem that I’ve felt very strongly, myself.
It was actually out of something like this that I started hanging around with some people online…I only realized several years in, though, that they were a reactionary group and wouldn’t make any sense without what they were reacting against. And as with most oppositional groups…what they were reacting against didn’t make any sense in the first place, and so opposing oneself to it also had the virtue or vice of not making any sense. Nonsense inverted is, often, still nonsense.
The strength that lay therein, though, was facing the idea of knowing that even if the world rejected me, I would still go on being who I was, despite that. I had the energy to wake up and exert power on the world, instead of being crushed in by it. This is the strength of my protector/guardian spirit. The character whom I was living as, was based on this spirit, but is not identical. This spirit…is male; is the one who personified who I was (or would be), if I got as close to being a man as I could. This is what I turn into when I’m threatened.
The difficulty that lies herein is that…even if I am psychologically male — and I probably am, moreso than not, even with my gender fluidity — changing my body to male would bring on a whole host of other problems. Principally: as a male, I am not a heteronormative male. I’m more like some kind of ethereal being who bridges genders and can appear terrifying to people who see me and think, “oh, cute little girl,” as a different one of my spirits put it, a long time ago.
When I speak about this, it would help with sense-making if you were to know that I (now) consider myself to be a spiritual medium — and it took a number of years of questioning and internal debate and dialogue (in addition to counseling) to admit to that. I can’t do much about it. But it’s what underlies the gender fluidity. Though I do have set rules (which prevent me from doing things like going off on people…usually), I have no set “self”. To get into explaining the mechanics would require an entirely different post, but I suppose I can just say that my identity is “loose” and not set.
I am entirely not sure what would happen if I appeared male and wrapped my head and wore long skirts and heels…but for some reason I don’t think it would go over well (especially considering how I’m basically nervous about being feminine as a female). And that’s the alternate story I’m being presented with — I’d appear to the untrained eye to be a transgender woman of color, which is one of the most harrowing experiences possible in this place.
It’s extremely possible that in my skirts, with my hair wrapped up and in this small form, I’m actually living something that is close to being a man — who was raised to be a woman and is expected to respond like a woman. By nature of coincidental alignment with a feminine image, I would then just not be recognized as who or what I am. At the same time, my form is what it is; and I can’t go for the rest of my life wearing clothes that don’t fit. It gets tiring.
(If Piccolo could wrap his head, I can, too!)
The other main option…so far as the blog is concerned… That would be going offline with all of this, keeping a blog for myself, and having no one but me read it. I’m thinking, though, that this will eventually lead to my not-writing; and besides, I do kind of like it when people see what I’ve written. 🙂 Even though my neurodiversity is showing.