volterator: (reign of chemistry)
Thing about me is, if I can be said to be able to take the measure of myself, my limitations are caused by three classes of thing in particular. 1) I'm a slow thinker and I have a very poor memory. These are not characteristics generally associated with high general intelligence. 2)Additionally I can't remember most of the things I've said and find inappropriate things funny. These are not characteristics generally associated with high emotional intelligence. 3) I feel very uncomfortable with myself physically, in a way which is quite abhorrent and irritating in a basically attractive young person; nobody likes being around a wallflower because they're clammy, needy little cunts. Having a cosmetic chest wall deformity and no athletic ability and an obnoxious older brother has done that to me, and I struggle. And yet what? I feel that even that I'm doing this well and am this well liked is a clear indication of my broad spectrum awesomeness. Afraid of success, constantly impacting failure and a stranger to inspiration, pulled on by a tremulous thread of drama. it's very interesting that a life lived this mundanely is so interesting to me.

It's possible that it's all going to roll over and suddenly I'll want everything from life that I can get. Whether that will take the form of uncompromising self-centred focus on pursuing distraction and eccentricity or whether it'll be the tawdry status symbols of middle-class life I'm not sure. It'll be working within my limitations, which as I've gotten older I've begun to see more clearly. Some of them are permeable, and I'm learning which ones I can push and what I need to push at them. Financial independence and physical space to live in are not just idle, Thatcher-sponsored dreams and empty chases, they're emotionally necessary. To change the subject slightly, I'm also coming to embrace that, either way my life goes, whether towards Bohemian irrelevance or a semi-detached obscurity it'll be resolutely, inescapably born out of being British. The identity of this place, it's jackdaw culture, defines me. Northern: I hate bullshit, value vocational education, am uneasy with property, contemptuous of effeminacy and embarrassed by softness. Multicultural, inclusive, yet completely segregated - everyone I know here is completely white. Born in the 80s, i think about my feelings, strive towards status, chafe at class division even while stepping over it, live in my own head, in computers, in American ways of being, drink in the broth-thin nourishment of a post-modern, comprehensive schooled post-secondary education. I feel history behind me, and the ghost of Empire, even as every decade I've lived through has tried to chew it away and leave us ahistoric and out for ourselves in a society there's no such thing as, in a broader world where money lives like Alexander the Great, trampling borders and absorbing nations. This place made me, and if you're anyone reading this it made you too.
volterator: (Default)
For me the world is at best clever, and frequently dumb. Just thinking about what I respond to. The world touches my emotional side as lightly as a cobweb but might screw a delighted grin out of me for its novelty. Plenty I see or experience elicits in me sharp feeling, nothing has a lasting counterpart in memory or in the bones of feeling. I find songs, books, films, the arrangement of words to provoke revelation gravid only with echoes. My feelings last seconds, my memories minutes and meaning freights no hardship.

Something in us responds and consistently. It's rarely any deeper than a touch with me. I don't remember words and I can't say how words on a page make me feel because they don't. This is faked up as analysis is required (I have no ability for performance whatever because I can't feel the words I read). This is scarcely any different when listening to music except where genuine and rare genius is in evidence. With drama it's easier; naturalistic acting is like a direct feed into the systems of human interaction. That said I can get completely into a scene while it's playing and have forgotten it by the next one. I make a claim for that consistent response - I know when I have liked a thing and hold on to it in the ledger, but the experience itself has to be renewed each time.

I guess what this means is while everything I've told you about the things I've enjoyed is true, most assumptions you might make about what I carry around in my head are probably wrong. Words and feelings don't mean much to me, if I respond it's at the level of pure reaction, and it is without much temporal component. I am the person who likes a thing while it's happening, and have almost nothing to relate when it's done. Describing anything is like a half-remembered dream and efforts to sew a continuity are an ongoing performance. I'm not very good at it.

I could suggest that there might be a reason why I have no creative urge - this constant push to consume media in order to fill my life with relationships to other people is the most complete and continual creative act I can manage.

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volterator

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