Hello epic question.
It came about like an insidious lil bug. Innocent comment from a man - a friend of mine - who was 35 about when we met. He is a feet and stocking fetishist - I provided him with a pair - we became friends but never saw each another time after that one day of our first meet.
It just didn't worked out and it simply wasn't meant to be and I don't regret it in any shape or form.
But what he asked me, does bother me slightly.
How does it feel ? How do I feel it ?
Honestly I haven't quite thought of it - and in the moments where I have - I only found pure deception.
Two diplomas (graphic design ~ professional school and medical archiving ~ college) and no stable job. It's like the men. The real human ones lasted from 36 hours to 6 months (and here I picked the two extremes - standard was 2-3 months with me) ... just like the jobs. 3 months here, two weeks there. No stability.
The only stable men were Sabik who lasted over 2 years before the little unplanned post man earth quake devastated me (just to be fashionable and in the season - I mean earth quakes are the hip in 2010) and currently Henri, in who's arms, I find true appeasement and comfort. Henri is like Aramis - like Samael - the Blond Man of my dreams with whom no matter what I feel comfortable, safe and happy.
Alas, neither Sabik nor Henri are real.
So... does that fit the reverse image ?
Fake men : last long. Real men disgust me. Real jobs last barely 3 months. Fake job will give me security ?
I could think of a thousand of fake jobs but I don't feel up to prostitution and I'm worth shit at shooting, so professional ... what is even the correct term... professional killer ... is as less likely to happen and make me happy.
A new guy on MSN - who found me on MySpace (to where I don't even bother go anymore) sort of proposed me to become a teacher in China or Seoul. With no qualifications - how the flippin' hell would I convince anyone that I am the right person to teach those folks English language ? I don't know how to speak any Asian language so ... hello barrier. What if students can't speak decently enough in English for me to understand their questions.
And as all other things, this proposition only left me day dream of Henri. Anything is a good enough of an excuse to spend time with him. He'd be great as the French teacher - lol.
Alternative lives do keep my mind sane. As much as I can.
Photography does the rest of the job.
But, in fact, I'm deeply unsatisfied, unhappy, feeling empty.
My little brother and our projects together are about the only bridge between me and reality. But I would need so much more. I would need a stable firm land. A fucking guarantee of stability and routine and that stuff that makes life how life is defined by a vast majority of individuals to who's group I would like to eventually belong. The group that has a stable job, a home where they feel safe and happy, activities, friends ... a normal life.
I randomly look at the soft halo of the computer screen's glow on my tea mug and all I can think of is : how beautiful it would be if I could take a picture of this - just how it looks in my eyes, how my eyes reflect this image on my retina and how my brain interprets it. All I can think of is photography - even in my daydreams with Henri or Sabik - photography is always there.
With Sabik, I was working as a camera woman, in the boat scenario, I was a gay porn model photographer in the original story (where I found his family name), I was the photographer who took his corporate shots when he was the Chairman ...
With Henri, it's the same. Since I loose my camera in the bus accident, he temporarely lends me his father's old Leica - an old one with a film, with manual settings, with manual tricks.
Funny how I cannot conceive my life and my happiness without a camera. Without the action of taking pictures, of framing life, it's content and it's shadows and hopes. Even my tea mug looks good enough to be shot - in this dim ethereal digital light.
At the dawn of my 30's I feel ... lost and incomplete. All my girlfriends - the ones who counted the most for me - are now since long married and have kids of their own - I, the rebellious one, am alone by choice (not that I regret it) but it seems that ... or is it me imagining it : in life it's either take it all or lose it all. They do have the career, the lover, the house.
I am stuck in a place that drives me mad, with people that oppress me and my freedoms and without a stable concrete solid employment.
And at the very moment, without news yet of Dawson as per my application into photography course.
Though, I should be used. It did take O'Sullivan a good 2-3 months !
Only I so desperately hope to be accepted and move on and find in this schoola nd program my salvation.
If I don't get accepted - if it doesn't work out - what will I be at 27, the dawn of my 30's ?
A looser ? A failure ?
I am wondering ...
I am wandering .