2008 Intro to Brave New World.

These are quite dated now... things have changed.

2008.

Welcome to my Brave New World. Quite an apt title I thought, considering how life turns out as each day passes. Certainly not how I imagined it would, when I was deciding what I wanted to be as a small child: Actress, Lawyer... and for that one nano second, a Police Person, * scratches head *.

Now, I think about the night I told my parents that little doozy, they probably looked at me horrified. Like some little demon spawn. We were driving home in our classic E.H. Holden, home being a house? (that’s being generous I suppose), in the middle of nowheresville.

They were smoking weed (it was the fashion of the time), and my dad had a bottle of Beam between his legs (entertainment for the drive home I’m guessing), not an unusual occurrence. They had probably just ended another weekend of boofing up and having sex with other people. They were nudists, it was the early 80's, and they were children of the revolution * shrugs *.

In an instant, their proclivities disappointed me to the extent of wanting to be the person who held the power to imprison and persecute them. It was a small, but overwhelming feeling, momentary and fleeting.

This was around that age where the world makes some, but not that much sense to a young child. A young’n who can write the symbols of their name, yet the letter ‘E’ has at least 10 horizontal strokes. Where I was convinced I was adopted (which both delighted and terrified me), and I would ape cartoons I had seen, by trying to pull my mum’s head off to reveal the alien life form that existed beneath. Go He-Man, Master of the Universe (I didn’t really identify with She-Ra, nice costume though).

[I would also shove small pieces of lego up my nose, the little red flowery bits you could pull off the tiny green stems... repeatedly]

With a little time passing and reason forming, I wanted to become the person who kept them secure, alive and protected. All the while though, having dreams of being someone else, any fucking one else, in a world where wearing clothes to bed was perfectly fine with me. Acting was the way to go... for a short time, until I learnt a life of rejection would not stand me well. Then, a life in the adult industry (not much rejection there)... I have some stories I can share later, if you're interested.

I don’t want to be a changeling anymore, no more shape shifting for me. I’m just the kid they told to stop frowning because my face would freeze like that... Hey guess what, ‘they’ were right. But now I’m a 30 year old kid with the same frown of that 3 year old. It’s just more furrowed.

If you ask me why I frown so much... There is a plethora of reasons which are inexplicable to the common man, (read you). It’s easier just to say I frown, because... well, how about for a second, you just think about the state of the world right now, and how it might turn out (and then I think about how I am situated within in it)... My glass was not half empty; it fell on the floor, cracked into a million pieces and jabbed a great big gash into my foot.

I am the sum (math equation) of them, hoping to create problems (fractions) of my own.

This is my brave new world or I am a new world brave, (Google had run out of options on the Huxley title, sorry) – both are relevant. One in which we leave fascist western doctrines behind, starting afresh, with hope, security and freedom in this great time of flux. One where I smile, laugh, and regret no longer. One where we get a maid to do the housework (paid handsomely and treated well I promise).