So, struggling with something at the moment. Both my brain doctors says I’m doing well, and the increased dosage seems to be working, but other matters continue to plague me. Not frantically writing my event for Pheno, trying not to buy all of the Dungeons and Dragons costume range or putting into words just what the riff in Whole Lotta Rosie does to me (Hint: A lot of air guitar is involved*), but it’s more my identity, my self image that’s the issue. Talking about stuff helps me work through it, so… It’s late at night as I start to this, I still reek of smoke from the backyard fire I lit earlier in the night (To celebrate a friends kids birthday – there are reasons we call her The Arsonist), some vintage AC/DC is playing and let’s fuckin’ go.

So, my personal style? I remember once describing it as part gamer nerd, part rock and roll fan, with a dash of disposal store chic. I have a lot of love for band shirts, both to advertise the stuff I love, and as self expression. It’s a non-verbal “Yeah, this is who I am and what I’m into”, and gives more chances for ‘the nod’ between people wearing the same bands shirts. They can feel like armour on bad days, or a middle finger to the rest of the world on really bad days. There’s been times I’ve had people back away from me, (When I’ve not been carrying some sort of weapon), and it’s felt good. It’s not that I set out to do so, but it can be fun from time to time. Freaking the mundane’s and all that. Sure, I then also have the urge to check my fly is done up, but that sort of paranoia is perfectly normal. Mind you, it’s been a while since I wore my “You’re not just wrong, the rules also say you’re a dick!” shirt, but the looks I got wearing it outside of game conventions kinda put the kibosh on that one. Context is important.

Where was I? Oh yes, style. Mine is elegantly scruffy, from clothes to hair to beard. I scrub up OK on the odd occasion and I enjoy those, but a large chunk of the time I’m in clothing I don’t much give a shit about as it’s about to be covered in dirt, dust and sweat. And the more I think on that, the less happy I am about that. It’s not that I think it’s a bad thing, but it’s messing with my head. The impulse to dress, I want to say, fancier, more often of late has been rattling round my skull. To want to look good and feel it, two things that rarely go together for me, though my wife would loudly dispute that assertion.

I’m not sure where it came from (I normally only get the urge after I watch a Bond film or two), but I can’t dismiss it. it’s not a drastic change, I’m still going to be me. I’ve no ambition to start wearing spandex or neon, but I want more flash in my wardrobe, if that makes sense? To take more than a few seconds over my appearance, to look in the mirror and feel good. To look neat more than once in a blue moon. Not junking all the black in my wardrobe, but adding more colour. Maybe buying another cape or two. I don’t know, I don’t have a wish list set up yet, though that’s an idea. To add to that, the itch to get a tattoo has popped up again. The leading design is still the word ‘Polarity’, but reversed (It’s a Doctor Who thing), while the idea of getting a rapier along my inner right forearm has entered my head and refused to leave. My wife and her two best friends have been talking about getting matching ones, so this may not have helped.

It’s the same sort of thing that’s trying to summon enough willpower to do some actual exercise. There’s no fear of me going full gym nut, as I like friends more than abs. Also, I don’t have the discipline or focus and enjoy snacks too much. And while my wife claims to be used now to my arms having muscle, the way she flinched upon putting her arm through mine a few years back still amuses me, followed by a loud cry of “What the fuck is that, that’s actual muscle? Where did that come from, I married a geek!” But a bit more cardio and a bit less in the belly would be nice, I think. Not being quite so knackered after sword or LARP would be useful. Crom help me, I’m enjoying physical activity, something I never thought I’d say. Is there a goal to this? Dunno. Feeling better should be enough, though there’s a part of me that wants someday to have enough self confidence to look down a camera lens and yell “CAMERAMAN, ZOOM IT!” *sighs* Twitter just isn’t the same without the Iron Sheik telling me to go fuck myself.

I don’t know, was there a point to all this? Given my current situation plans are all I can make. Still, it feels good to talk it over, and that’s an important thing. Good night all. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning.

*I occasionally wonder what the people who see me furiously air guitaring at shows think, but a lot of the shows I go to are full of people acting that way. And while I kinda want footage to exist, if only to show my wife, I also really don’t want to watch that footage.