Art is usually better off unexplained: people can have different interpretations of the same piece & that’s what makes the process so powerful. Depending on your feelings & your emotions, or your background & your mood, your reaction to the portrayal of a crime scene may differ from your friend’s who’s witnessed their parents’ murder at the age of 12. Put simply, one might see an agonizing pooch while the other sees a life-changing fountain of truth. It is therefore fair to say that explanation kills art – yes, I dared use that quote floating around Tumblr – but I’m in the mood for some action, i.e., murder.

Last week, I performed a contemporary/kooky choreography at a fundraiser – I chose to add that second attribute so that contemporary dancers wouldn’t feel offended by my lack of flexibility & non existent stunts. Sure thing, the Diversity, Gender & Sexuality Committee was raising money in order to promote LGBTQIA* issues at the World Social Forum taking place in Montreal this year – Bernie Sanders is set to make an appearance so you might want to check it out. While my performance may pass as a basic illustration of white twinks showcasing their bodies in the most superficial & irritating way, allow me to take you through the inspiration behind it.

Lorde’s music was the starting point of it all. As I was going through what might have been the darkest period of my life, it opened my eyes so wide they could never shut back. Even though I had come out two years prior to that period of time and was supposed to be opening up to the world & discovering everything I had kept myself from, I never felt more alone. Fearful of people’s judgement, I had trained myself never to engage in social activity, & although I had no reason to be afraid anymore, that wasn’t enough to make shift my habits. And since college didn’t force interaction whatsoever, I kept distancing myself from people until I felt practically no human connection at all on an everyday basis. All of my involvements seemed meaningless to me AND I had bronchitis, ain’t nobody got time for that! – I couldn’t resist & I’m not sorry.

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But through all of that distress, spending time with the person that understood me the most was what kept me going. She didn’t necessarily feel the same way, but I could be myself in her presence & that’s all that mattered. & That’s where Buzzcut Season came in. What I’ve gotten from this song is that there is no need to relate to reality. What is real anyway? As long as we had our little make-believe world in which our insecurities faded away, that’s where we needed to be. What might have been the end of the world in the real world could be meaningless in the fantasy we had created for ourselves. While I was offbeat on the outside, my energy was put elsewhere, in a place I felt comfortable & secure. Our universe might not have been real, but it didn’t matter as long as we believed in it. We played along, we shared everything, & we never looked back. I was not a White Teeth Teen, but I was content with the idea of never being one.

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Despite the fact this illusion-like paradigm will always be at the core of my drive, all good things must come to an end. Growing up on some level was inevitable, & that’s where Ribs came along. The shielded haven I had designed for myself had to collide with society’s circles in order for me to build some kind of future for myself – no shit Sherlock! I could go on & on articulating this & that but the lyrics to this particular song point out all that needs to be said: You’re the only friend I need / Sharing beds like little kids / We’ll laugh until our ribs get tough / But that will never be enough.

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Essentially, the whole album – Pure Heroineplays on that unpopular/unfashionable dynamic. It somehow became mainstream, which is great, but can also be explained by how tired people got of getting told to put their hands up in the air, so there.

That summer, as I felt the world cease before me, I realized I had total control over my life & had to chase after what my dreams were made of. I ended up failing a class, but I passed the other 5 so I guess it could’ve been worse. And it was the one class I had put the most effort into, go figure. Anyway, I had to come out of my shell & find my own Bravado. I was frightened of every little thing that I thought was out to get me down, to trip me up & laugh at me, but I learnt not to want the quiet of the room with no one around to find me out; I want the applause.

I’ve also realized the more one interacts with people in a conventional way, the less they feel the need to express their emotions in forms that are considered artistic – common sense, right? But some people feel innately alienated & art will always be the most proper way for them to feel understood.

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Was this some sort of a diary entry? Yes. Am I sort of self-centered? Probably, but aren’t we all? The struggle I went through growing up is probably incomparable to certain people’s but hey, we’ve all felt miserable in our own way.

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