"Why do you act so shy in front of my camera?"

That title is a quote from a great song off a great album (What Happens Now)by Mike O'Neil, by the way.

Dang. I completely forgot what I was going to blog about today. It was smothered by all the other fascinating facts and events of life I guess. My days are so brimming with intrigue, it's hard to even remember my name sometimes.

I was noticing, this morning, how people are so much like dogs, only slightly more repressed. I can see everyone waiting for the train, holding themselves back from sniffing the butts of every new human that walks past. Restraining themselves from whipping their heads around to gawk, open-mouthed and panting at anything that strikes their fancy. Nearly barking at each other to be noticed or to mark off their territory. Some of us are cats and wish all the dogs would fuck-off and leave us alone.

When I exit the train station, I take this groovy, two-tiered escalator in a corridor with smokey, mirror walls. Everyone preens and admires themselves as they glide up or down on the escalator. It's hilarious. People giving themselves that, chin in the air, sideways glance, head cocked to the side look that humans reserve for checking themselves out in a mirror. Blatant self-idolatry. Crazy. I go to great lengths to avoid catching even the merest of glimpses of myself. Who wants to see that?? Not me. I can't stand seeing myself as it has nothing to do with what I think or feel in my head. I can't reconcile the two.

I've talked often of not ever feeling like I'm dressed to kill, or lookin' good in the 2 thumbs up in the mirror at yourself way. It's not really got to do with feeling unattractive or whatever. It's the whole chasm between what is shown and what is inside. My looks have nothing to do with me! I didn't choose them. I have very little influence on them. They are a misrepresenting falsehood is what they are. I disassociated from them a long time ago. Begone physical self, I said. I have no use for you, nor does anyone else.
Unfortunately, it's not that easy. Mirrors being a prime culprit in the constant barrage of reminders of the physical self. Each time I am forced to confront the image of myself, it's a grating, uncomfortable ordeal.

Oh I know, the physical does shape the internal self. Had I been born a striking beauty, I'm sure it would have changed some of my internal focus and priorities. Had I been born a hideous monster, the same would apply. I just think it's a shame is all. For all of us. Seems such a nuisance to have to manifest physically.

I had a detailed and drawn out mental and psychological evaluation in my late teens. One of things that poppped up as being particularily interesting to the researchers was my complete inability to form abstract thought when relating to my physical self. Made perfect sense to me. Still does. They scrambled to identify it clinically somehow and failed. Suckers. As far as I'm concerned it's perfectly normal. Just keep all mirrors and reflective surfaces away from me, and I can think and be just fine.

That wasn't really what I had planned on blogging about. It still hasn't come to me. All this talk of mirrors....