I finally found my passport! & other qualms
It's the Easter break. Here, that means four weeks off. Though does it really mean that? Researchers (me) suggest otherwise.
I briefly discuss my weird relationship to my hometown in this blog but that barely scratched the surface. I realise mundanity isn't so much of an issue as the cultural attitudes of these places and, more importantly, the smaller population. I'm more recognised, but never more accepted. My developments as a person and great ambitions don't mean much because I'm still a couple of inches taller than the highschool me, so that highschool-induced tension follows. In the city, I can be no one but I can also be someone, and who I am is entirely up to me. A part of both town and city populations will bark and spit at the queer, but at least in the city they're not also barking at someone they barked at years ago and merging the two images of me into one, laughing that I'm either the same as I was then, or even worse.
This reminds me of a conversation I had with the president of our Burlesque Society at UEA, who let me know that a drag artist was planning on setting up a cabaret show in King's Lynn. I can't remember the details, but I knew the implication was that I might be interested in it, to which I declined. We both bantered a bit about how uncomfortable it would be to see, let's say, your old highschool teacher in the audience or, god forbid, your mother's boyfriend who had no idea you would be in it. Even if the art form was something tame like a landscape oil painting exhibition, I wouldn't want that shadow of who I was to then interfere with the experience of sharing my art.
But of course the title for this post: I found my passport! Eh, I'll talk about it another time.
Reply via email! ✰ First published 28/03/2024 and last modified 1 year, 6 months ago.