Tuesday, May 27, 2014

How to Avoid Looking Like a "Horrible Person" When You Meet Me (or anyone else with a facial difference)

anonymous asked:
I'm hanging out with a friend and some of her friends in a few days and one of them has a port wine stain over most of his face. I've seen pictures of him on facebook and I still think he's hot even with it. But I'm terrified about meeting him because of this huge crush and I've never met anyone with a facial mark and I'm afraid I'll act awful without meaning to. What advice could you give so that I won't look like a horrible person?
This is a good question, and although I understand why you’re on anonymous to ask it, I wish more people did. I can’t say that I’m the highest or best authority in these matters (so anyone who can discuss this with the wisdom of experience, please feel free to contribute), but I will do my best to be helpful.

It sounds like you’re already quite interested in this guy and it’s great that you’re not going to let a birthmark, that might be considered a physical deterrent to others, diminish that interest. But please, please please please, and I cannot stress this enough, do NOT create a personality for him before you meet him (and this is general life advice too, but…). Now, if you’ve already started building up a personality for him based on your assumptions, you aren’t a terrible person but throw it away. People take a look at someone and instantly begin assuming things about them — it is human nature. They size them up, figure them out, decide if they are worthy of getting to know in-depth or not. Are there cultural influences, gender cues, ethnic associations, religious indications, etc etc etc? It takes us seconds, less than seconds, moments, to compile a cursory profile… and then we build upon it with our own little imaginings.

With me, a lot of people come to the conclusion that I am shy, quiet, extremely serious, timid, and that I have nil for self-esteem. I know it is because of the scarring since, when people look at me, that’s all they see (how I know that as certainly as I know it is for a whole other discussion). And when they see it, they think (I paraphrase here to condense the multitude of responses I have received to this question), “That poor man probably doesn’t want to show his face, probably wants to hide somewhere, probably won’t speak up because he will be noticed, probably has been hardened by how dreadful his life must be, and really, who could blame him when he looks like that?” And then they meet me. At first, yes, I am extremely reserved, but not because I’m shy. It’s because I’m anxious at not knowing how I will be perceived and treated. Once I feel safe, I’m silly, extremely vocal, possessing a healthy dose of confidence, and yes, I look in the mirror every day and hate what I see, but I don’t think that I, as a person, am half bad. And, as it turns out, I have devastatingly, but accidentally, disappointed people who have formed fanciful crushes on me because I did not live up to their brooding moody beast of fairy tale expectation.

As for his appearance, if you feel moved to tell him that you find him “hot,” I would caution you not to phrase it as you did in your question to me. In the most basic, unadorned way, people cannot help what they look like, and no one wants to be told that the thing they cannot control is the detractor. Please don’t make it sound like his birthmark is a hurdle (that you can surmount or not is immaterial) to his natural attractiveness, i.e. do not tell him that he is attractive in spite of it.

Also, do not tell him that he is attractive because of it either. This goes a little hand-in-hand with making up a personality based on a facial feature. Saying attractiveness is because of said feature sort of commodifies it. It’s saying that the feature is essentially the most important thing about that person and that, were it not there, you wouldn’t be interested. It isn’t objectifying so much as turning that feature, which may well be one of their most personal sensitivities, into a fetishistic feature which is never a good thing.

Keeping all of this in mind… when you meet him finally….

It’s really easy to say “treat him like you would anyone else,” but much harder in practice, right? Because you’re crushing on him and you’re dealing with something you’ve never had to deal with before, even if you know, deep down, it isn’t anything weird or different or dangerous. But don’t worry, a lot of people freeze up or do something that’s not ideal, not because they’re bad people, but because they are going through the same experience of not knowing what to do.

When most people meet me, they will not look me in the eyes and while it is such a small thing, it really says a lot about how uncomfortable they are, all the while sending the signal that I don’t merit their attention (which in turn makes me feel like I’m bothering them and that I should probably excuse myself so that they are no longer uncomfortable). So, when you meet the guy, look him in the eyes. Don’t meet his eyes and then look away. Look him in the eyes and keep the contact for as long as you’re interacting with him. Don’t look down. Don’t look at an ear. Don’t turn to your friend while you’re talking to him.

Also, be honest about your experience. If you do freeze up or say something you think is horribly insensitive or you do something you think might be interpreted as being unfriendly, go for honesty… maybe not about your crush but for those of us who get a lot of negative reactions, being told that you’re just unsure how to act and that you do not want to be insensitive is completely acceptable. But don’t make the admission about your comfort — make it about his. Apologise, ask him if there’s anything that would make him comfortable, and if he’s willing, ask him things about it (provided that you do so in a kind and respectful way). Granted, we’re people and not all about our facial differences, but what’s the first thing we see on other people? Their faces, and it’s better to address it openly and honestly than to pretend its not there.

Hope this helped a little?

Best of luck to you with your crush!

Monday, May 19, 2014

Reading in the Park

Spent the day out in the park reading — the wind was rather intense though so I had to call it a bit earlier than I had anticipated. Maybe tomorrow I'll try again.

A couple people have messaged me on Tumblr (I cross-post most of my things -- although the lengthy stuff usually happens here) about how I "hide" in public. Um... I don't. See? I go out in public, almost every day, and do normal things like other people! When winter comes around, it's a bit easier to hide behind a scarf, but I don't generally in the warmer months, if only because you get stopped by cops if you do. ;D


Sunday, May 18, 2014

Surprise, unsuspecting people!

One of the pics from the last batch of selfies I took… just in case you were missing my gorgeous face. ;D


 If you were worried, I am still around! Things have just been a little insane between tutoring and helping Dea with her work. It is the end of the semester for her and my students, after all!

Thursday, April 10, 2014

An Unpopular Opinion about The Man Who Laughs?

I had a conversation with someone the other day about The Man Who Laughs because she had just seen the silent film for the first time and knew that I have a special fondness for it. That inspired me to think about the problems I have with it (and yes, I do have problems with it, despite its magnificence) and why I have those problems.

As much as I think Veidt did a beautiful job portraying Gwynplaine (and there is no other I think would have done better at the time, not even Lon Chaney), I don’t think it is the right portrayal. Victor Hugo is exceptionally sentimental in the book which, I suspect, misled a lot of Paul Leni’s direction, and I think it misleads many readers.

I have never believed that Gwynplaine is a weak character and I do not believe that he should be portrayed as a meek, shrinking, timorous man, and especially not because of the way he looks. Looks shape a person, not make a person. And contrary to what seems to be the pervasive understanding of his character as a man so gentle he recoils out of fear of being approached or viewed or what have you, he’s a young man of twenty-five with a healthy curiosity, a dash of impertinence, and a good deal of nerve, tempered only by acute self-awareness and a serious soft-spot for Dea.

What doesn’t seem to be well-understood is that, behind the disfigurement, is a person, is a mind, as fully complex as that of anyone else, that his existence may put his disfigurement to use, but his reality is not centered on it. He has a life outside of his face. He probably has thoughts as mundane as “the caravan could use another coat of green paint,” or “I really need to patch that hole in my coat sleeve,” or “damn, Homo’s taken a dump a little too close for comfort and it stinks in here.” Then at other moments he thinks Aristotle was a clueless ancient who should stick to describing craters of the moon because no one could then gainsay him.

And truly, to deliver that final speech to the assembly, he needed a backbone, not just in the moment, but in the whole story leading up to it. One does not simply gain all that courage for a momentary plot-point. It is there at call because it is something he has always had. It is the one moment that should define him, not as a disfigured man, but as a man who is aware of his disfigurement, as a man who is so much more than just what people see. And that nerve, that courage, that brazenness to address such a group when you are only tolerated in it, that is not gentle. That is bold. That is bitter and gritty. That is the knife edge that has been sharpened upon the receiving end of disdain and ridicule, of being reduced to a disfigurement when there is so much more to him.

The silent may be moving, may show the pain of the story very well, may convey the moodiness poignantly, but it only shows the tears behind the smiling face. It misses the foundation of the person completely.

Wednesday, April 9, 2014

A Phantom of the Opera Photo(Manip)

When I got home tonight, I was tired, but I am most certainly not sleepy. I therefore wasted a bit of time playing around with the photo program that came with my laptop. After this month of selfies, I have been getting decent at it, with sharpness and contrasts and whatnot, making the lighting kinder to me. But I thought, I’m a Phantom of the Opera fan and I would like to know my program better… and I’m already not a very attractive guy.

 So this is my product of tonight. It’s not terrible for a first try with one of my own photos… but you can still see the lines of my scars because I couldn’t manage to take them out completely. Ah well. Next time perhaps.



Friday, April 4, 2014

Tumblr Hate Mail: First Edition

I had an anonymous user on Tumblr send me a charming message:
your a fucking freak


OH NO. YOU NOTICED.
 

Someone Misses My Selfie A Day

From an Anon on Tumblr:
Maybe this is weird but I kinda miss seeing your selfies every day on my dash.

Yes, that does seem a little weird to me considering how much I disliked taking them and posting them (and looking at them, but that is a given), but it isn’t a bad sort of weird, I don’t think. In truth, it is nice that someone is telling me they miss them instead of how freakish and horrible I am. I don’t think I have many other pictures of me readily available that I haven’t already posted. I always avoided cameras. And pictures now, selfies or by others, takes a presence of mind that I don’t usually have. There are a couple of me while at work, but I’m covered with so much makeup, you would never recognize me. Even if that were not a deterrent, I hate admitting to what I do for a job and pictures would give that away. However, I just dug this up (you can tell why I didn’t use it during the Month of Selfies). Yes, this is me doing duck-face. Just because (I have a healthy dose of not-taking-myself-too-seriously). And I ask you: look upon this face (of, how do the kids say it? cray-cray?) and ask yourself, are you sure you miss my selfies? Are you completely sure?

Monday, March 31, 2014

Last One to Finish Out the Month

Finishing out March with a pic (I only missed one day out of 34 and that one was not within my monthly obligation which makes me glad since I thought I wouldn’t last the month). I think I have one or two more pictures of me, but I’ll keep those for later when I am feeling particularly sadistic and want to inflict them upon you.


Sunday, March 30, 2014

Post A-Picture-A-Day, Finishing Up March

I didn’t post a picture yesterday (because I forgot) which means it’s a good thing that my monthly obligation is over. But I still have a couple left. Therefore, I will post for the next few days until the last batch is done. And then I will see how I feel about the camera. I mean, I still hate it, but it’s not quite as repellent to me now. This is still with the eyeliner.

Friday, March 28, 2014

A Picture a Day: Day 31

I have done a picture-a-day for 31 days now and my obligation for doing it for a month is officially over. Because today is ALMOST the end of March, I’ll see if I can scrounge up a few more until March 31st and then I will have gone above and beyond my obligation.

I will debrief about the experience soon and why it won’t be a selfie-a-day-for-a-year (I am certain you are just as glad as I am, you sweet people who follow me). Until then…. officially done!


Thursday, March 27, 2014

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

A Picture a Day: Day 29

Last batch. I’m sorry I don’t have anything particularly thrilling or interesting to say about these. More eyeliner. And my nose looks rather pointy here.


Tuesday, March 25, 2014

A Picture a Day: Day 28

I have been scrambling to find some more pictures. The few Orson has of me from recent times aren’t electronic (we are kind of like luddites in this household) and the old ones aren’t candidates for this, even by my own loose criteria and rule breaking tendencies.

In an effort to keep things slightly interesting for the last few pictures though, I let Phoebe but some eyeliner on me, although I think she put it on way too thick… but what do I know?


Monday, March 24, 2014

A Picture a Day: Day 27

This was right after Phoebe dyed my hair. And, I have a confession. This isn’t a selfie. Pheebs took it. I know. I’m cheating. But I’ve run out of pics and I need to take more or find more or something because I am not getting this close to doing it for a month only to fail. Besides, you can tell I’m pretty delighted here to finally have black hair, so I think I should be forgiven for making up the rules (or breaking them as the case may be) as I go along.


Saturday, March 22, 2014

Trouble with Eating

One of my coworkers, Sandy if you’ve been following, and I were tasked with coming up with a couple new routines for work. In order to get time to sit down together and brainstorm, the other day she suggested that we should discuss possibilities over some dinner at the local 24/7 diner after our shift ended since it was appallingly late and neither of us had the opportunity to eat prior.

I went, against the inner little nagging voice of my fears, because I have a life to live and I can’t just… not live it. I felt like having the company and, in the interest of not trying to make my life sound more glam than it ever is, I am powerfully lonely, all the time, every day, so if she had suggested going to the grocery store, running naked through a frat quad, or driving to the west coast on a whim, I probably would have done it without a moment of hesitation (although, I am quite relieved that she did not suggest running through a frat quad naked). We also had things to talk about and for a few dollars I could get a large satisfying meal that I didn’t have to cook myself. There were very few cons about accepting the invite.

Sandy knows me, knows what I look like, my peeves, my hidden snarky side. We have worked together for the past two years and occasionally I tutor her with whatever classes are the hurdle of the day (although she is incredibly intelligent, has far surpassed me in Calculus, and I’m just completely useless with her engineering courses). But the thing is, we don’t spend a lot of time together outside of work. Even the tutoring usually happens in the employee area when our shifts match up. So we haven’t actually gone anywhere or done anything in the general population like normal people. Fortunately, we both embrace the word “freak.” She is a delightful body-modification “punk-junkie” with hair more colors than a mantis shrimp can see, and a bit of an activist deeply into alternative fashion in the context of fat-positivity and love-your-body-at-any-size movements. So when I spend time with her, I feel pretty comfortable.

It was late, so I didn’t have to worry about there being a lot of people (I may live my life, but I’m still extremely self-conscious. That doesn’t go away.), but in the past-midnight hours, there are frequently belligerent inebriates and I have narrowly avoided incidents with such people a handful of times. That was all I could think of that might have been detrimental, but nothing else. And Sandy was extremely considerate about me, requesting a booth tucked away in a corner behind the cashier’s area, so that we were in a nice secluded little alcove. And even the waitress who came over was perfectly cordial to both of us.

It was when the food was brought out that I had the first germination of real anxiety.

One thing many people don’t think about when it comes to my scarring (and why would they?) is that it affects much more than mere aesthetic. The thing about my scars is someone cut my face open. And although they are mostly faded now, the suture scars along the edges of the "smile" seem to suggest that merely cutting wasn’t enough, that it was done surgically. Someone restructured my face. I don’t think there was any resulting nerve damage since my face is completely usable and sensory, but the way my face healed, the skin puckers along the incision lines. This causes constant pulling at my cheeks and lips and impedes the mobility of my face. I frequently say that I wear a "permanent smile" but not because my mouth is drawn back from my teeth in a frozen maniacal grimace to resemble an actual smile. I am clearly just scarred. But the pulling, the limited range of movement, means that trying to do anything like frowning is a painful effort. The scarring keeps my mouth fairly taut and to countermand the reconstruction of it is nearly impossible. This difficulty translates over into anything else I do with my mouth, like eating and drinking.

I hadn't considered this prior to being confronted with our meals since I had a straw in my glass of water. And when I looked at my first forkful, I had the extremely eloquent thought, "oh shit." I try to be downright dainty with my eating etiquette, tiny bites of food on the fork, nothing too messy, nothing that can leak. Around my family, I am not so conscious of my habits, but I always try to be aware of myself. And, left unchecked, watching me eat has to be fairly disgusting.

Sandy said nothing about it... not that she would. Hopefully, I was not an embarrassment although I caught myself a couple times spilling. The whole time, I just wanted to slink under the table.

If I ever mention going out to eat again, please talk me out of it. It's a really bad idea.





A Picture a Day: Day 25

I’m sure you can tell just how thrilled I am about these pics. Look at my enthusiasm. It’s contagious.

In actuality, it was early. I was getting ready for work. And the night before I realized that I had only one or two more pictures for the picture-a-day effort. Therefore, I thought taking a picture that morning might not be a bad idea. Although, look at me. I look like I got ahold of a special brownie for breakfast (I didn’t though). I was just very tired. Double shifts four days in a row will do that.

Friday, March 21, 2014

A Picture a Day: Day 24

This is the last one I have (at the moment) from being painted up like The Crow. I might be able to squeeze one or two more out from that flurry of selfies, but they’ll probably all look exactly the same. So, for the moment, this is the last one. Now, I have no idea where I’m going to find more pics (unless I cheat and use pics by others…. that’s a thought). But, only a week left!


A Picture a Day: Day 23

Oh, the end is so near I can taste it. Pulling up the last one of the first batch of selfies I did (a month ago) when Phoebe painted my nails.

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

A Picture a Day: Day 22

Another Crow pic. Not as happy with this one (I think it’s the lighting that throws it off), but the other ones looked so similar to the ones already posted that I thought, eh, I’m already a sight, let’s run with it, lighting be damned.


Tuesday, March 18, 2014

A Picture a Day: Day 21

Home stretch! Ten more days and then I’m done! I figured, with the end in sight, I should use the last few remaining pics from the very first go I had at this. They are pretty much the dregs of my pics, but that’s all I’ve got. Sorry. But you can do the little dance of joy with me that this will soon be over.


Today at Work

On break now and still have a few more hours of work ahead, but today was the best day of work I can remember in a long time.

Brian, who brought in the burned CD yesterday with “Sexy and I Know It” on it for background, brought in a new CD today specifically for me to use when leading our warm-ups.

The line-up:
Sexy and I Know It (LMFAO)
Moves Like Jagger (Maroon 5)
Strut (Adam Lambert)
You Can Leave Your Hat On (Joe Cocker)
Do Ya Think I’m Sexy? (Rod Stewart)
Turn You On (The Scorpions)
Pour Some Sugar on Me (Def Leppard)
I’m Too Sexy (Right Said Fred)
Closer (Nine Inch Nails)

It is a great thing to work with a bunch of other improvisational dancers and gymnasts because while it started like a traditional warm-up, it ended up more like a crazy musical montage that vaguely resembled a cross between the opening of Miss Saigon and Cirque du Soleil. A couple of us even sneaked in a little ballet (because we’re trained and we don’t get to use it that often).

I don’t want to go back and actually work the rest of the evening. Hopefully nothing will come along to ruin this wonderful day.

Monday, March 17, 2014

Not So Quiet and Reserved

I hate my job but I really like my coworkers. However I realized today that they are under the greatly mistaken impression that I am the epitome of quiet and reserved.

We were in the studio rehearsing with someone’s burned cds on in the background to keep the energy up and “Sexy and I Know It” came on which is not something I listen to, but I broke out into an outrageous improvised dance routine and everyone just gaped. Sandy and Kelly joined me after their moment of stupefaction and we just put on our own little show. I had one person ask me after if I had been replaced by a pod-person.

It was great though. Their faces were hilarious to behold. I felt like I was in a musical, cast as one of the protagonists who take off their glasses (Clark Kent or heroine-going-through-a-makeover) and suddenly no one recognizes them anymore.

A Picture a Day: Day 20

Another Crow pic. In truth, I am rather pleased about these. I think they came out very well. And yes, I’m saying that because the scars are well masked by the makeup even if not entirely hidden. But the beauty is that, even with a big smile, I don’t look ridiculous because the rest of it makes me look a little too bad ass to be ridiculous. Like I have said before, I should just paint myself up like Eric Draven every day.



Sunday, March 16, 2014

A Picture a Day: Day 19

Sorry about the odd glare on the side. This is the new half-ski-mask I mentioned a bit ago. I really like it except the cold weather is leaving and I don’t have much excuse to wear it now.



Saturday, March 15, 2014

A Picture a Day: Day 18

Orson wanted to take these pics, but they’re not selfies if I don’t take them, right? He took a couple pics though, but I haven’t seen them.

Ah, look how cute I am.

Mime from Hell, anyone?