Wednesday, November 23, 2005

changes

Removed from my wrist, over the course of the last 8 weeks:

6 hairbands
Beads, brown and yellow
A length of white thread from Gaz's poncho
A length of black thread from someone's hoodie, a year ago, maybe Ollie's
Some pink, purple and turquoise beads that I stole from Paul
A purple beaded scrunchie
An orange shagband (yes, I still call them shagbands)
Beads, white and small
Powerbeads, turquoise (no, I don't buy that karma bead shit)
A black bangle
Make Poverty History band, lost without a trace
Purple HUG charity band
Length of camouflage thread, brown and green, taken from the set of someone's a-level devised theatre piece
Black elastic band
Reading 'O5 band

What's left:

A length of something black and plastic, hollow, possibly some kind of cable
Est's handwriting, backwards: we didn't know who the fuck shit piss we were

I've been in the habit of tying every available thing to my wrists for several years, since the time I bought 50 red and silver bangles and wore them all to school until they were confiscated. I wore them all up my right wrist, I had this weird aversion to wearing anything on the left.

Now my WWJD band (the second one, the first broke) lives on my left wrist, usually joined by the charm bracelet my parents bought me for my 18th birthday.

I've put a lot of stock in the things on my wrist these last years. The skin on my right is odd, paler and kind of softer. Since I've been at uni, the bits and pieces have come off slowly, I didn't even notice it, just my hairbands kept getting tangled in the threads so I'd have to cut one here and there, the beads I had to take off for physical theatre class... The hairbands I took off yesterday, there was 6 of them and it got confusing which ones were still elastic and which ones weren't. Now there's only one, currently in my hair.

Why the fuck does this matter?

Because I'm staring at a virtually bare wrist for the first time in 5 years. It's weird. I don't care. There's no compulsion to pull them back on, to gather up my beads and elastics, to tie anything round my arm anymore. Just, no point, y'know? Why should I?

My left arm stays where it's always been, band still in place, safely covered by my jumper, when I remember. I don't like it touched, or grabbed, or looked at.

I'm thinking about changes because I heard that song, Changes, by Tupac on the radio the other night and today I bought a book of his poetry:

"no matter where I go or how long it takes / I will never recover from this mutual heartache"

And it's lovely because it's simplistic but he knew his shit did Tupac, he writes about love and racism and stuff getting better. He knew exactly where he stood and he knew how creativity can heal. And I think I'd like to be like that, to know where I stand, and to find creative ways of getting better. I mean really get better, to not hide behind things anymore.

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