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So I stayed home again yesterday, but decided not to bore you all with more stories of sitting around being dull, eating oranges and chicken soup. I read "The Riding Hound of the House of Tain", which is a retelling of "Hound of the Baskervilles" using Garak and Bashir (from Deep Space 9) in place of Holmes and Watson. ( brief review )
I also typed up more old journals, yesterday, and am back at it this morning. The one I typed today was a trial and tribulation, just like the rest, but it did offer me some insights into my younger mind. There's so much I don't remember. I remembered I had some issues with being bi, because it was completely not-cool in my school, but didn't remember that I had so little concept of what being queer was all about. It's evident in the way I wrote about things that at that point I had absolutely no exposure to anything beyond the stereotypical flamers which was all one saw in the movies or on tv. But I was reaching for the fact that on some level I knew that media representation was just not the truth.
I also had blanked out the fact that my first boyfriend was really a complete asshole. I knew I'd dumped him and felt good about having done it, but I couldn't remember why. How odd. Or is it?
I also typed up more old journals, yesterday, and am back at it this morning. The one I typed today was a trial and tribulation, just like the rest, but it did offer me some insights into my younger mind. There's so much I don't remember. I remembered I had some issues with being bi, because it was completely not-cool in my school, but didn't remember that I had so little concept of what being queer was all about. It's evident in the way I wrote about things that at that point I had absolutely no exposure to anything beyond the stereotypical flamers which was all one saw in the movies or on tv. But I was reaching for the fact that on some level I knew that media representation was just not the truth.
I also had blanked out the fact that my first boyfriend was really a complete asshole. I knew I'd dumped him and felt good about having done it, but I couldn't remember why. How odd. Or is it?