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rambles and half-essays

Tag: life

  • family, tradition, and growing up

    KM Brunner

    I want to start by saying that I love my family. I had a fabulous time with them over the holiday. Best one I’ve had, I think. Ever. Of course there were difficult moments, but we each have our failings and challenging personality traits, so that’s to be expected. Ultimately, though, I love them. And that can be hard, because we’re so different.

    I was the black sheep of the family the moment my sister arrived. My sister is a fantastic woman. She’s smart, confident, and loving. She can be intimidating, but so can I. Thing is, she’s unique in ways that elevate her in American/traditional society, I’m unique in ways that alienate me from it. Regardless, I think she’s very cool and in some ways, I envy her. I certainly envy her easier navigation of the world.

    She doesn’t question much. Her life is her life, and my family understands that life. They lived that life, and are thrilled that she, too, is living it.

    I do nothing but question. It can be exhausting. I can be exhausting. My family doesn’t understand my life – and it has nothing to do with my being gay. It’s ’cause I think too much. That’s it. And that molded me into someone so, so unlike my family. A little changeling creature.

    But I’ve been like this forever. Mom used to say I was “born forty,” but I know that’s another way to say “strange.” I never stop at what. I always have to interrogate things, get to the why. And once you understand something, you can’t un-understand it. If you’re like this as a child, you get stuck with knowledge you don’t know what to do with, and worse, knowledge of things you can’t discuss. So it’ll fester. Little things will start to grate, especially things that to the rest of the family, might not seem like a “big deal.”

    They are, though. Some small things – word choice, teeny judgements, off-colour comments – the roots of them are serious and so, so telling. The things that grate are the things you can’t unlearn, only ignore, and ignoring is tough.

    My sister is an amazing woman. My parents are fabulous people. I love them more than is reasonable and will continue to love them. Still, when we are all together, I feel so different from them that it’s almost unbearable.

    I’m still trying to understand the divide; when I’m not paying attention, I sometimes find myself trying to repair it. I found that sad, this last Thanksgiving. I don’t want to be more like them. They’re not bad, they’re just different, but I like the things that make me different and don’t want to sacrifice my personhood to make them more comfortable.

    This Thanksgiving, I felt the most myself than I ever have around them. It was a little scary. It was thrilling. It felt like I was daring them to finally acknowledge my strangeness. They didn’t, of course, and they won’t. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t brave of me to be myself, to maintain my boundaries, while in their house.

    ‘Cause it was. Anyway, I hope they never find this piece.

    Recommendations:

    Music: Illinoise is my favorite Sufjan Stevens album. It’s really cohesive and a fun listen. The song “John Wayne Gacy, Jr.” is buck wild and really unsettling, but it’s my favorite from the album.

    Reading: Just finished The Writing Life by Annie Dillard, and it was fun. Dense and poetic, but fun. I took my time reading it; I recommend a…slow digestion.

    I find THEMA, this entirely-analog small literary journal, to be really charming. Been submitting again lately (not to this journal, but to others), and damn does it take a long time to get responses back.

  • a good idea and a realization

    KM Brunner

    I’m not planning to keep a chronological diary here – no one needs updates on my life, but I do want to say that I’ve found a writing routine, courtesy of my lovely mother, who thought it up for me. It’s in the nighttime, which was something I hadn’t considered. I thought I’d be too tired, but it’s been fine so far.

    Moms tend to be right.

    Anyway, before I get to a list of things I’ve enjoyed this week, I want to ramble a little about authenticity and bodies. I’ve had a rocky relationship with my body, and it only got worse after the changes it went through due to my chronic illness, but over the last few years (and a lot of therapy), I’ve learned to listen to it better.

    I’m not talking about listening to it to keep it safe – that I’m generally good at. I’m talking about listening to what feels good to wear, what kind of hairstyle makes me happy, etc. Over the years, in addition to masking my personality, I’d masked my physical self expression. I wasn’t wearing the clothes I liked, I was picking at my skin because it didn’t feel like mine, and my hair felt like a hat. It was strange but I didn’t question it, because I’d felt that way for so long.

    And then, at the behest of my therapist, I started wearing boys’ clothes sometimes and I got my first tattoo. I pierced my own ears and got my bangs back. I wore big shirts so they didn’t touch my skin so much, and got rid of things with textures that made me feel gross. I didn’t realize how uncomfortable my own clothes made me until I started paying attention – listening.

    What I’m saying is that you’ve got to notice the small stuff. My tattoos – several, now – make me hate my skin less. I feel less self conscious in oversized, cotton clothes. You have no idea how much those small changes positively influenced my self image.

    I’m getting much too sappy – time to list some cool stuff:

    Song – symptom of life by WILLOW. I am embarrassed that I was embarrassed to enjoy this. I hate when I’m pretentious for no reason; it’s not flattering. I think it stems from envy. Anyway, I’m so happy for this young person – they’re really expanding into a genre that suits them. The song is very cool.

    1. My mom got me these cube timers and they’re so cute.
    2. Been really into the Book Club Radio sets – a very cool series with some great DJs.
    3. Thinking about finishing my sleeve with Cheddar at Boston Tattoo Company. They did my thigh piece and I love it.
    4. I absolutely love Jess Owens. She’s hilarious and the best “booktuber” out there. She’s not usually drunk, but I thought this video was very funny. Jess is honest, sincere, and she’s got such a wholesome vibe. Her dog and husband are sweet, too.

  • art, clichés, feeling today tomorrow

    KM Brunner

    There have been days in my life – once, two full weeks – where I felt out of time. It’s similar to dissociation but more of a disconnection. Reality remains, but it’s not solid (while dissociating, reality remains – I know where it is, but I can’t engage). For those two weeks in 2017 I felt strongly that it was actually February of 2012 and I had an essay due. I felt that, somehow, I had to get it together to write about Lord Byron and his club foot.

    Februaries can be hard.

    And there are days when I feel small and young, and I remember my childhood hamster. Her name was Angel and she was very mean. I kind of liked that. Her hair matched mine because it was orange (pictured at left).

    I often feel very old, but that tracks with my real timeline. I am not chronologically the oldest person who’s ever lived, but my personality doesn’t quite make sense for the average 30-year-old.

    I am sick. That’s why. Nothing exciting. I’m old because I’m still here and I’m cranky because no one seems to care about what is important. Unfortunately, what is important is what they say is important: family, friends, love, art, nature, experience.

    Hallmark sayings and boring cliches do have substance, which I find a little frustrating.

    I think you have to be old – in experience, not years – to understand them. “Be yourself,” especially. No one can tell another person to be themselves and not sound patronizing, but the moment it clicks, when you realize that you must be yourself and there is no other option – the phrase is suddenly frightening.

    “Be yourself” can be an awful thing to say. It used to be for me, but now I find freedom in the phrase. It gives me permission to wear menswear and to draw monsters and to write science fiction. It allows me to stop competing with writers I admire and gives me the space to appreciate their work. Being myself is nice, and it would be even more fun if I liked my body.

    But like I said, I am sick. It is hard to enjoy a body that doesn’t want you there. Sick bodies want to die, and so they’re inhospitable to the life in them. I am that life and often, I wish I weren’t. And yet I must be myself, there is no other option, I have to remain and continue to flicker my bullshit electricity over a half-dead brain.

    I used to wish I weren’t sick, but you can’t do that when you pursue being authentic. If I weren’t sick I would not be this person. I think it’s unfair that she exists because suffering is an awful way to forge a personality, but I’d rather be her than be anyone else.

    Anyway, I’m done talking about this. I’m going to send you home with a gift bag full of media treats:

    Comic: Beyond Real, Vault Comics

    1. Figure Drawing: Design and Invention by Michael Hampton – the textbook I’m following to learn to draw figures more accurately. This is a pirated pdf.
    2. Three Stanley Avenue Guest House (Kingsfield, ME) – I stayed here for four days a couple years ago. They have crappy wifi and there is no one in the town. It was one of the best vacations I’ve ever taken. Cheap as hell, too.
    3. Ebony graphite pencils are the best. Soft and quick – perfect for drawing fast on newsprint.

    The most moving and most interesting piece of music I’ve listened to recently: