A First Snow Free Write.

25 10 2012

One splotch of nail polish left on one nail, all the others are bare, stained yellow from colors prior, the shapes all rounded and jagged and square. Nothing matches. Nothing is uniform. The room is littered with a hodgepodge of fall and winter attire, costumes and coats, socks curled into themselves like delicate rotting flowers. There is no way around it. When it’s here it’s here and there is no going back to a warmer time. One starts to wonder if there ever was a warmer time. Was it possible that I did sweat due to the sun that now seems impossible to find? Was there really a time when I needed an industrial strength fan? Is it strange that people here drive much better in the snow than in the rain? As if one form of water is more tolerable to them than another. It was never my intention to stay here long, but no other place is tempting me more. I don’t really know what that means. When I was a kid I don’t remember what I wanted to my future career to be, except once in 6th grade my friend J and I decided then and there that we should steal the red corvette in the parking lot, head to California and become actresses. Now, that was a dream. In my dreams last night I was playing volleyball; the men on my team where being rather sexist and I remember wanting to spike the ball in their faces instead of over the net—our team did not win. It’s funny how we have a calendar that tells us when the seasons change, when we can just look out the window and tell what time of year it is. I wish I had a calendar that would tell me what kind of mood I was going to be in that day, because I think that would prevent a lot of problems. I’ve almost picked all the paint off the nail. Then what, I just paint them again? Such is this cycle. But what color represents this new season, this new mood?

Oh. My. Goth.

20 07 2012

So, I guess this is the summer of trying new things. Maybe my entire life should just be about trying new things. Seems like a more adventurous sense of existence than just staying in the same scene doing the same shit all the time. Anyway. I went to my first ever GOTH BAR the other night when I got off of work. I wasn’t planning to go to a GOTH BAR, but was convinced and so it happened. I obviously didn’t fit in, but luckily I had worn a black shirt that day so at least there was a partial blend.

I’m learning how to fit in everywhere without fitting in anywhere.

I am a floater. I have no identity. Or my identity rests in the ability to identify with all people on some level.

Not just a reader of books but a reader of people. Is that weird?

I can see how some people might be intimidated by the Goth community, with their pale pale skin, they’re dark dark makeup, the platforms, the leather, the ethereal dancing, but that’s all outward appearance. Just like any other group these people want a place they belong, a place of acceptance, a place of relate-ability. And through they’re appearance they’re able to find other likeminded souls easier.

Though it’s not my style I had a great time. Perhaps because I currently don’t have much style I find intrigue in people who do.

Okay. It’s not that I don’t have style, but I feel like I’m exploring all these new places in an attempt to figure out what I do and do not like in regards to representing myself. I’m free to do whatever I want, be whoever I want, go wherever I want—and sometimes, even though this is an amazing time it my life, it can be overwhelming. (There are indeed many styles, places, things out there).

So, I’m going to be chill. I’m going to go out there and have adventures. I’m going to explore places I have never been, be around people I never thought I’d get along with, and I’m going to see where it leads.

Just the other day I swapped spit with the best kisser of my life (this is a major feat as I’ve kissed many people) and he isn’t really the type of guy I generally go for. Look what happens when one tries new things. Magic! Surprises! Entertainment!

The biggest question now is, what do I do next?