This is real. Bane of my existence.
Often people see me as a very strict over-achieving individual who never learnt to give up. Frankly, I don’t know where that comes from. The thing I do is fight a war if it is with myself but often give in when it is with others – that should make up for a rather pally than strict composure. Honestly though, if you know me, you’d say: “she’s falling in the category of ‘strange bunch of people’, cause she’s a writer. Yet there’s an added spice of having this image of a drunken blithering idiot – that goes hand in hand with the creative.” This is what I call the principle of adjusting that makes a lovely panaché of strange-blithering touch of madness.
My preference, though I am often seen in parties and gatherings being loud, is staying secluded like a hermit. An extroverted introvert (there’s a term for everything)! A reason why county-sides appeal to me more than cities (too much distraction)! When I do decide to venture out – my security net is my notepad-app on my iPhone. I need my phone to be charged all the damned time just so I am at peace knowing an idea won’t just escape. Too little space for error. Be it in the forest or the concrete jungle – weirdly but surely, – I can retrieve in my shell anytime at any place. With only a singular person allowed to stick in there with me. I sympathise deeply with that person – the rollercoaster ride that I truly am can/might be nauseating and a bit too much for many… but as Massiv once said – “du findest auch noch dein deckelchen”. So these days my boyfriend gets to see the total circus that I alone am! The whole shebang! And since he’s still sticking around – I guess he truly enjoys rollercoasters?
It’s never boring with me. Even though finding me at events is becoming a challenge (must admit that I don’t totally suck at finding my way to events) cause I suck at socialising. Not a very verbal person. I’m more of a listener and an observer. But I do open up to very few – and when I do, there’s an avalanche of chatter! That much I can guarantee.
In the middle of the night I am up and writing some notes on a character or art/design idea that came up – fair warning, when I am deep into a creative process, characters become real! One can say it’s a writer’s bane, perhaps why socialising is such an effort! Don’t forget, I’ve spent an entire day battling patriarchy in a small town, and saved an abandoned girl child from the mouth of a tiger – so reality is nicely overlapping with fiction and I am struggling to hear a monotonous rant about restaurant ratings and reply accordingly in an event where I am not even drinking.
I often become emotionally distraught at fictional situations I’ve created in my writing, including fictional murder spree taking down evil-doers that got me amped up and happy. Try explaining that to someone! It’s a perpetual nightmare! My mood and emotions are literally led by something that I am creating (whether art, design or an ethnofiction). Fair enough when people actually think my characters are real (or based on me). Fair enough. I find it flattering to be honest when people cannot separate the artist from the art and the writer from the writing.
Dan-the-man: “Yet another idiot who doesn’t understand art! And I consider blogging a form of art!”
ANTHROPOLOGY OF LOVE 