On Masculinity

Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about this. In fact, thoughts of late seem to be in abundance. So much so that even falling asleep at night is a challenge with my mind that is in constant motion, constant contemplation.

A bit of background: My parents split up when I was somewhere around the age of eight. It wasn’t a tear, a destruction of a relationship. It was merely a… split, a difference of ideas. And to this day it is somewhat complicated. They are still married, and they are still very good friends. Often there is the talk of it once again developing into something further. I see my dad once or twice a week, sometimes staying at his on weekends. And when I was younger it was much more frequent. So, I have never had a lack of a father, not by any stretch of the imagination.

So, what I’m getting at, is that – for the most part – I have lived with my mother and sister for the past thirteen, or so, years. Obviously this has had an impact on my development, on my psyche. Though, my family, my dad, and the other males within it – we’re not the macho type anyway, not the type to ride into the battle on the back of a testosterone fuelled Bull-of-Masculinity.

I think the line between masculinity and femininity is ill-defined, malleable, breakable – ultimately, whatever you want to make it. I do not drink litres of cheap beer while watching football. I do not sit through rage-induced boxing and UFC fights, idolising the fighters, and their physique. I am not muscular, nor do I intend to be. I do not leer at every woman I pass on the street, in the hope of ‘scoring.’ I think in general this culture of what it means to be a man is utterly cancerous. And I can’t see any rational reason why any person would aspire towards this.

Sometimes I think many times a day on what it would be like to be a woman, and on some days I even desire this. Or at least the physical aspects of it. In truth I find the female body much more attractive than its male counterpart. Not in terms of my own sexual preferences, but to belong inside, to feel and be a part of (No, not like that! Jeez…). If this makes some degree of sense. I understand the idea, and the concept of gender is a very deep, and a somewhat overwhelming field. I’m not transgender – or at least, at this moment in time I am not. In both sex and gender I am male. It is a complicated subject, and often the thoughts regarding it make little sense, and have little coherency.

I would say, I’m 90% straight, 10%… something else, something more undefinable.

Life, existence, is sometimes a fickle, and even arbitrary thing to understand. Maybe we should not try to actively understand it at all. It’s possible that all the knowledge we need and desire, will come through life being felt, and life being experienced in the fullest. Rather than some life-long quest artificially acquire it.

What does that mean for myself? Well… I’ll take each day as it comes, and each feeling as it develops. No matter whether I like it or not. I don’t want to be closed off. I don’t want to be emotionless, icy, and impenetrable. If that means I am more feminine than masculine, then so be it! Though, I like to think I pull parts from both fields, the best parts. Discarding the extremes, the misogynistic regime that lies at the side of radicalised male extremism.

Yes… I did just say that. Over, and out!

-Chris ❤

Concerned, or Conversely, Elated

In the last few days I’ve been feeling kind of… different. Now, I don’t want to ascribe the words good or bad to the things that I’ve been feeling, simply because I think they exist in a much more complex state that those designations can convey. And I’m not sure whether I should be concerned, or conversely, elated.

I’ve been taking Sertraline for about the past seven weeks. And if there’s anything I know about myself, it’s that I seem to have a very high natural tolerance to most medication. In the near past I’ve been somewhat into the nootropics scene (judge me if you like!) and believe me, for better or worse – worse… – I’ve popped 600mg of Modafinil without feeling anything. I get confused when people get ‘jittery,’ or ‘stimulated’ by coffee. Give me a few liters of the stuff and it won’t have any more effect than water. So, at this point I’ve pretty much given up on all that. Though of course, it hasn’t stemmed my love of a decent coffee! A strong Indonesian one is preferable!

My point is that… I’m not sure if the medication is working. After seven weeks it should be, whatever the effects might be. Generally my mood seems to be a bit better throughout the day than it was previously. My anxiety is still pretty crippling, and there are still days when my bed seems like the most attractive place to be.Maybe like most thing in my life, I was simply expecting too much, expecting more than what the rational world can offer me.

I keep telling myself that this is not a fix, that the medication is only a tool I can help fix myself. I tell myself that there is effort that needs to be put in, effort, that is frankly lacking on my part. I say all these things to myself, but it never seems to happen, it never seems to progress past some ambiguous pre-determined base-line to the next. Though, as always I hang onto the knowledge that hopefully that day will come when I can move on, when I am ready to board the train and ride towards the next station.

On the flip-side, I’ve been writing a lot recently. There isn’t a day where I don’t take comfort in that.

-Chris ❤

Moonlit Land

Solace, a midnight’s walk.

Free of the sun’s glare,

It’s endless figurative talk.

Literal, that what I ask, it is all I dream.

Silvery landscapes, moonlight’s fickle haunt.

Lifelong passions, behind in the glow of day.

What else, what else;

Hides in the swell of the rolling stars.

Post-day, it is my pleasure.

In the emptiness of the dark.

Within the lieu of shadow,

Lies something else, something I take to heart.

Without voice; without face.

All I can do to not give up on this place.

World of Love

Sometimes I wish.

Sometimes I just sit,

Because in the moment,

That seems all I have the power to do

That’s because, in fact, I don’t have the power.

I have the words, and well… the words have me.

Though, reciprocation, mostly I don’t see.

But I try not to be bitter.

I try not to give in to resentment.

For I don’t know all;

I can’t witness all.

No matter what I wish.

Life, the world, it is a complicated place.

Far beyond the words sent my way.

I want to feel; I want it to be often.

Maybe one day I could hear.

Maybe one day I could see.

Yet, I try to understand why this might not be.

All That’s Required

It’s about having something,

A well to draw from,

A life to put in, an experience to harbour.

Creating existence from a lived existence.

Of which I lack, of which I am empty.

The words come from an imagined place,

An imagined life; a created one.

It sounds simple, though it is anything but.

Finding meaning, finding soul… narrative,

It’s a life’s work, a heavy heave.

And for what, I ask myself?

Like anything, the answer eludes.

It is to be done; yet, to be done is all it is.

For that well, that well of reality;

Some day I wish for it to be full.

But until then, a world created isn’t so terrible.

The Ephemerality of Words

I wrote for a pretty decent amount of time yesterday – better than any other period in the last month or so. And in doing so I managed to get three or four pages of not-so-awulf words down. I was happy, ecstatic even…

And then today, my computer crashed – everything is gone… Nothing saved. And not even my half-decent computer knowledge could revive anthything from the depths of my hard drive.

Such is the world, I think.

Such is life.

I know, they are only words. Specific words conveying a certain idea, a certain story. Yes, they can be wrote again. Maybe not in the same order, but with the same meaning. Maybe not with the same coherence, but with the same sense of purpose. I know, I know… It is finding the motivation to write it all again, that is the hard part.

I will though… I will.

We do anything for love, right?

-Chris ❤


A Trip In Time

Yesterday we were without power for just over 24 hours. Now, obviously that isn’t a great amount of time… still, we forget how much we take something as simple as electricity for granted. Also, the ways in which it affects our lives – for better and for worse.

It was stormy outside, and the high winds must have brought down a power line somewhere. Being here in the countryside, I highly doubt we are top priority. I’m surprised they remembered us at all! Damned government! 

Still, I think it was a sobering reminder of current times. We are all so intertwined within the modern day – the lives we live online, and the endless amount of things it enables us to do. So much so, that we become locked in our ways of social media and instant, on-demand entertainment, that we forget about the things this world supresses, the things that often mean more than what replaces them. Things this world makes us forget.

The fire was roaring. Roasted veg were cooking in the Solid Fuel Range we luckily have, and a warm cup of tea was between my legs. All while I read the words of H.P. Lovecraft in the candlelight, straining my eyes to see his beautiful poetic words. I imagined him writing them under similiar conditions. Slaving away at his typewriter, endlessely relaying all the thoughts that entered his head onto the page. Taking comfort in them. And then myself being able to take the same comfort and excitement in them almost a hundred years later.

It makes you think… Sure, electricity, it allows me to write this. It allows me to read other blogs. It allows me to have access to information that would otherwise be lost on me. And yet, I feel slight pangs of sadness that I can’t live in the past. In a world with minimal electricity. Living a much simpler life – blissfully unaware of pretty much everything, if you like. Maybe this is ignorant, maybe it is even arogant, selfish to want something different to the luxury that I am thankful to have. And yet, I yearn for things to be simpler. To wake up and not have to think about the world ten miles beyond myself, to not know it even exists in any meaningful sense. To farm, pick potatoes, and cook them late at night. To sleep when it gets dark, and to wake when it becomes light.

I’m living something of a lie, I know that. It is that feeling when a part of you just doesn’t fit.

As silly as this sounds, sometimes I find myself looking towards an apocalypse… well, maybe it even sounds macarbe, or sick. I don’t pretend to know exactly why I feel like this, nor why I can rationally justify it in any sane way. It’s one of this things that just is. Maybe I’ve watched too many episodes of The Walking Dead, or maybe I want something to actually happen in my life. Though I know in reality, if it were to happen, I might not fare so well. I like to think better than some, (I’m a country person, I know basic survival things,) but within a month, I’d probably be dead…

Anyway… don’t forget the simple things in life. Take away all the modern-day for a second, and just enjoy and feel the moment as it is. Just be human, removed from everything else but its pure, natural state. Meditate. Leave the Facebook and Twitter feeds alone for a while! Trust me!

-Chris ❤