Archive for May 2002
I’m listening to the Moulin Rouge soundtrack, and it’s great. I’ll have to see the movie.
(I usually get soundtracks, of songs not classical music or instrumental or whatnot, before I see the movies. Compare Strange Days.)
In my posting before last, I referenced Dan Savage and made a joke about bisexuality being a fetish. I suppose I should explain.
I’m attracted to the same types of people: Nice to look at, tending towards slim but up to normal, quite intelligent, somewhat nerdish. Looking back at crushes I realized and others I didn’t, they were the same kinds of people.
I was attracted, though, to different areas of their bodies. I am, actually, even now, looking at eye candy; with women, it’s breasts and legs; with guys, asses and chests; faces in common for both. Hence, the fetishes. Specialization would probably be a better term.
Anyway, Dan Savage’s statement is quite sweeping. It’s good for my bisexuality, definitely not for what other people possess. Personal tastes, as always, are crucial.
Sir Andrew MacPhail (1864-1938) is a native-born Islander who has achieved a fair degree of renown, as a writer and historical personage. His semi-autobiographical novel (though classified as biographical under the Dewey Decimal System) The Master’s Wife is a wonderful description of life, as it was, in his childhood in the late 19th century in a conservative Highland Scots settlement.
On the first page of my edition (republished in 1994), there is a quote:
“The remembrance of any life, rich and fresh, should not be lost to the world.”
This is a profoundly ethical statement. Firstly, that all life is important, and that memory of life should be maintained post-morten. Secondly, it implies that we all can benefit from these memories of lives lived, not only the author though codification of dispersed memories can be a help, but an audience which can enjoy and benefit from these memories. Souvenirs of the mind, as you were, not manufactured in Anhui or Chennai, but something authentic.
The whole concept of “eye candy” is something quite new to me. Until very recently, I didn’t bother looking at people, of either gender, at all. I don’t know why: perhaps it was because I didn’t imagine having any kind of a sex life myself, so why look at the people I passed by on the street or in university halls or wherever?
This has changed. Firstly, because I came out (first to myself, then others) and realized that I may as well have a sex life, even if only by imagining and looking like everyone else.
Secondly, because I happened to come out to myself at a time when winter ended, spring began, and people began wearing lighter clothes, showing more flesh …
I notice individuals of both sexes, though I think the ratio is biased more towards guys than girls. Different places, too, which suggests interesting things. Didn’t Dan Savage ID bisexuals as people with a fetish? In a very odd kind of way, he might be right.
It’s raining now, which is good to ward off any possibility of drought. My sinuses are itching, but the partially-completed treatment must have done something, else I’ll look into acupuncture. I think I know how to tell my parents, but I’m still wary. I’m thinking of travelling far and wide, which is cool; I hate to say “personal growth,” but that’s what I’ll be doing.
So. Until later!
Griffen: Yes, I’ve been assimilated. And I like it. 😛
Darren: Never mind apologizing for past faults that don’t exist, what matters is the fine gift you gave me. 🙂
Kay: I don’t know, but let’s start a ritual or something. 😉
Halford: Thanks for wondering. I _am_ doing fine–I’ve told my sister, she’s reacted quite well, and I think I know how to tell the parents. I think …
So: All in all it’s daunting, but going fairly well. I think.
Today, I got my instruction permit. It’s my third time I’ve gone for it. (100% on sign-recognition, 92% on the questions.)
The first time, I was 16 and I didn’t want to do it. I got an excuse to opt out when I lapsed into depression (again) and just kept rescheduling the driving practice.
The second time was last April, when I was 21. I liked it, and I practiced driving with Dad over the summer, but it just … lapsed. It was school, it was my growing (yet inchoate) concern over the future, it was the distraction of 9/11 … Let’s just say that it expired at the end of April.
This is the third time, and I want it. I really do want it, and I will get it.
I suppose I’m just entering my adolescence now, that my life has entered the right stage. That, well, it’s natural now, not forced as it was earlier.
Sorry that it took so long to get my journal up-and-going at a minimal level, but here I am.
Well. For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Randy McDonald. 22, a Prince Edward Islander, an aspiring academic with a BA (English, Anthropology majors) under his belt and who’s going for a History minor and an Honours conversion for English next year, and–well, I’ll say more shortly.