I'll Make a Man Out of You

I backed myself into a corner this morning when considering my portrait assignment - the more I thought about it, the less choice I had about which gender to write from. I have spent so much time musing over this blog that writing from my own life experience seems a waste. Instead, I am going to deviate slightly.

In the beginning I thought I would write about my grandmother and how we ended up on such nonsensical terms. However, I realised through careful consideration that there was a lot I didn't know and would never understand; writing about such things would only open old wounds and worsen the present situation. This itself created a new muse for me - the angle of a character realising something they wish they didn't, changing their life forever.

This was where the corner loomed. My original thoughts about the piece were that the main character was a girl and hated a member of her family for reasons she didn't know, but longed to remember. The more I thought about that situation, the more I began to realise that if I wasn't careful the story would become based on true events. I had drastically change it somehow and the main way was by changing the gender of the heroine to a hero.

You may be wondering why on earth this was a corner - well...to my recollection I have only ever written from male perspective once, and in my opinion, he sounded more than a little effeminate.

I suppose I shall have to abandon Carter in favour of Poe.

Yesterday was revealing on several fronts; I received a letter informing all residents of an upcoming water shortage - and by shortage, I mean none at all. I suppose I should be thankful, the last time this happened, they didn't warn us and only explained the depth of the crisis after it actually happened. This time we can make suitable arrangements; the plan is simple, we are to spend the upcoming days stocking up on giant bottles of water. It seems a daft precaution at first, but not so much considering the last water shortage, during which all I heard was Carley moaning about Chris' impending visit and how he was going to break up with her because she wasn't looking her best. Honestly, anyone would think she was dating Calum Best.

More revelations appeared in the form of Alissa's OCD. It bemuses me how a girl who refuses to type beyond size 8 font, is anxious to switch off lights, will not get up unless the clock is on a 5 or a ten, will not write on paper that has all ready been written on and has her CD player on exactly volume 18 can say she is not obsessive compulsive. I suppose it's the stigma that OCD just applies to cleaning, but actually it applies to a wide variety of things. My aunt has OCD and didn't get diagnosed until she was at near breaking point because of exhaustion. She washed her hair every day, washed her hands every time she touched money, shook hands with people or even touched a door handle. Considering she works on a till at B'n'Q, you can imagine how raw her hands were at the end of the day.