Spinning Compass Network

I need the opinion of the male population. I'm thinking about letting my hair grow out. I need something different. I need to be different.

Here's a picture of it long, from when the train that kidnapped me was being evil with my favorite candies.:
( Not for the faint of heart, or weak constitutions. )

Thoughts?

It appears that several of you here know who I am. It's no surprise to me that there are stories about what happened in the real Neverland. Though I'm sure the stories are the version of that little elf. I still want to run him through, but that's beside the point.

What I did in the real Neverland was nothing compared to my dastardly deeds in other realms. I was a very horrible man. But something that Miss Delmare said has got me thinking and I realized that just because I was that man doesn't mean I have to continue to be that man. I can turn over a new leaf. I can be the man that I was originally intended to be.

So this is me. Killian Jones, or Hook as you know me, telling you that I am going to do everything in my power to change. Though I probably won't change the fact that I am a notorious and shameless flirt.

I think I'm going absolutely insane. I keep having memories that aren't mine. It's not even memories of stories that I heard of things that happened to other people. I don't know what's going on. Maybe it's a tumor or something. And I appear to be a man.

The most recent memory was that I was standing in some kind of throne room and there was a man with one eye standing on a dais. Then another man with long blonde hair and a beard and a red cape walked down this long aisle and was going to be crowned king. There was something about Odin and Thor....I don't quite remember the details.

I would think it a dream but I was wide awake when it happened.

So, I know it sounds like something you'd see painted on the side of a white van lurking outside a primary school, but are we going to talk about Happy Fun Land, or am I the only one actually using my fucking eyes anymore?

No one’s going to care about this but I don’t care. Sometimes you just need to get things about before you end up punching things, and from my experience in a fucking prison cell punching walls does you no favours.

Anyway…

Where I’m from advertising is just about everything. People aren’t people - they’re target groups - an age range or a type to be sold to. We are commodities. This isn‘t even my real point, though trust me I could write a fucking essay on this, my point‘s more about the commodification and objectification of women where I‘m from, and where a lot of people are from from what I can see.

We’re told a lot of things in the pages of magazines and in TV adverts but the main ones seem to be these - if you have the cheek to grow old for fuck’s sake don’t let yourself look it - buy hugely expensive creams to delay the signs of aging, to delay the need for plastic surgery. (I wish I was taking the piss here - I’m not. I remember an advert that mentioned using their eye cream so you could put of having cosmetic surgery for a while, like it’s a fucking given!), buy expensive make-up to hide lines. Don’t look tired! Oh you have to do everything to prove you’re worthy but if having children, a job and a social life gives you bags under your eyes you’d better get rid of those quick sharp! Basically whatever you do don’t you dare look like a normal, aging human. No one wants to see an old person or in fact any person looking their age- heaven forbid! Please also remember people over about 35 shouldn’t fuck.

And of course a lot of this and advertising in general is about looking attractive for the opposite sex (don’t get me started on the hetronormativeness of this or I’ll be here for hours). I find it sad that some women base their self-worth on how men look at them, not even feel about them - just look at them - a product for consumption. If you’re not physically attractive you’re not worthy, so quick buy some make-up and some expensive clothes and shoes and see if that’ll help you out. Now I know that I’m writing this as, what in my culture would be considered, a conventionally attractive woman, which isn’t all it’s cracked up to be I assure you, but more on that later. The thing is I don’t give a fuck what other people think of the way I look. I don’t want to be looked at like a sex object by men or women for that matter, I really don’t. Because some people seem to think walking down a street wearing a skirt of a certain length means you want to have shit shouted at you, which trust me it really fucking doesn’t, but you’d better be fucking flattered and not call them sad wankers or you’re a frigid bitch. I don’t put on clothes or make-up with other people in mind (well okay occasionally I do, but that’s for a man who I’m pretty sure loves me for my mind and not my face or body and it‘s always my choice, my idea). I don’t conform to my society’s standard of beauty - I don’t follow fashion, I don’t wear fake tan, I don’t even remove my pubic hair.

I’m not saying I’m better than anyone who does those things. I’m really not. The thing is it’s all about whether you’re doing it for yourself or for other people - because you think you should. I’m lucky. I have a ‘fuck you’ personality. My self-worth hangs on myself. I do what I want to do. If I wanted fake nails and fake hair I would, but it would be for me, not so some prick in a bar thinks I’m worth hassling for sex. ( Cut for mention of rape )

Really we can’t win and I’m not saying it’s easy for men, because if they’re being told they have to dye their hair and use special moisturiser for men now, because jesus you shouldn’t be grey or have any lines just because you’re getting older, you’d better nip that in the bud right now.

I’m not even sure what my point is anymore I suppose basically it’s do what you want to. Don’t cut your hair because you think someone else might like it better like that. Don’t shave your armpits because people think it’s unsanitary or just plain unpleasant if you don’t. If you’re going to do those things doing them because you want to.

( You have mail! )