I have been sitting in front of my computer for over 2 hours and done practically nothing to add to my dissertation. There are days I am on fire and I can write pages upon pages of wonderful literature review-okay that’s a fucking lie. Such days only exist in the singular- “that day” I wrote page upon page of wonderful literature review… Other than that I drag myself through heaps of mundane research just to come up with a review that to me seems tasteless. And so I blog.
I was just thinking about my friend Kimotho who invited me for an event last week that he put together. It was themed something along the lines of interesting minds congregating and discussing popular black culture and African art and nostalgia and areas of intersection. I flaked on him because my friend flaked on me and my friend was my date. I hate showing up to small intimate gatherings alone to be honest. Deep inside I don’t give a fuck until I discovered that everyone started to ask me why I was still single whenever I showed up to places alone. And that bugs me. So, I flaked. And now I just wonder how he must think of me, my friend Kimotho, having first met me on a night I was performing at a gig back in my singing days and watching me get drunk thereafter with his buddy at a karaoke bar. It just got me thinking of how different people may perceive you based on the experiences they have had with you. How you look to them from your perspective.
And so I made a list.
To Charles, who was my ex-boyfriend’s best friend in undergrad I must seem to be sensitive yet aggressive, broken/damaged yet determined and smart yet stupid enough to believe the sweet nothings that the guy with the gold tooth in the bar would whisper to me on a girls night out.
To my London girls I’m probably quick witted, overly opinionated, funny, super extroverted and too obsessed with calorie counting and black English boys with beards.
To my flat mates I’m perhaps scary, mysterious, a bit of a bitch (don’t touch my milk wtf) and overly zealous with cleanliness, take- out-trash duty and boundaries.
And finally to my sweet friend Kimotho, on whom I flaked,I get the sense that I look like this flustered, complicated, artistic, all over the place, unsettled soul with a shitty personal life and an over the top personality that probably says the wrong things at the wrong time.
Well… in a sense I am all of these people. But not really. Because you cant really be defined by one person can you? There is this image that different people have of you, together and singularly and finally there is the image you have of yourself…Kind of how you would answer a “Describe Yourself” section on a dating app (I promise I don’t do those).
Let me get back to my dissertation.