Identity crisis time.
Who the hell am I? What identity do I put forth? When you think of me, what do you see? What little box in your head do you put me in?
I came to a realization last night that What I consider myself and what others consider me are two different things.
In theory, I know myself better than anyone else, but there are some things that I can't see because I am not objective enough.
There are some labels that I give myself:
The first three are probably not too farfetched to imagine. A lot of you have seen the work that I do, and have read quite a few posts on the various projects and theories that I have rent asunder. There is a context for those labels.
But very few of you have seen me in any sensual context, and those that have have been sporadic and far enough distant that it might seem an aberration and not a part of my normal life.
I suppose that I haven't had much call to outwardly expose it, and in the last handful of years, I haven't had much of a chance to really express it into my environment. The environment really hasn't been mine. And right now it's full of concrete and silicone and pet hair and stuff that needs to go away.
Eventually, it will become visible, viable like an embryo in a petri dish. But for right now, I probably come off as sensual as Groundskeeper Willie, or the custodian in the high school who kept Playboy centerfolds taped up on the wall of his locker next to the boiler room.
I'm the guy that you call when your toilet is clogged, or your pipes leak, or your electrical system is on the fritz, or you need a groovy thingamajig for your next show. I'm not the guy you call when you're feeling like you'd like some company cuddling on the couch and watching old black-and-white movies, or when you'd like to have your back scratched in just that perfect way, or when you feel like spending a few hours smoochin'.
Yeah, okay, I get that. You just don't think of me in that way.
I'm not the droid you're looking for.
So what does this mean to me? Is this more of an image issue? Should I hire an image consultant to change my outward appearance and force a context change amongst the populace? Maybe rent up a bunch of billboards, plaster my face all over the place with SEXY so that the connection is made on that media hindbrain level?
Or is it more that I have a disparate sense of self that does not jive with the actual world? Should I simply give in and exist as the Geek McGyver, and risk being attractive only to Patty and Selma?
I understand that it is my perception that is hosed up here. I do deserved to be loved, completely and wholly. And so do you. But I also have to consider the possibility that it will never happen. And no, those aren't just words. I'm not willing to settle for needs work anymore.
I need to be the first, best choice. I don't need to be fixed, or changed, or put into a category; if I'm not the droid you're looking for, move along. There are other droids with more pleasurable attachments that you will probably be much happier with. I can still fix your washing machine, or upgrade your wafflemaker to turbo, or make an elevator out of bubblegum and tinfoil.
And maybe that's good enough.