I am unabashedly artificial and I cannot imagine being or wanting to be any other way. Too much value is placed on authenticity, as if there were some default loadout that one must adhere to in order to be genuine; that's ignorant and short-sighted. The original article exists solely to be used as scrap. I am someone who took that authentic state, meticulously and mercilessly destroyed it, and dumped the remnants into a white-hot crucible of will to be reforged into a design that suits me better. I am my own creation, both physically and mentally, and while it's not yet one that's perfect, each iteration of the process brings me one step closer. Artificiality is far more genuine than mere authenticity any day.
I'm a San Franciscan who in some respects would be far more at home in LA, but feels too closely tied to the community here to want to do so just yet; the music and intimates I've cultivated here still keep me willingly bound for now.
My interests lie primarily in the realm of hedonistic indulgence and the aforementioned alteration of my being. There's music, plastic surgery, dancing, makeup, sex, hair, nails, clothing... but much else is an afterthought. I am at times asked what my hobbies are, and it's a question I often find myself having some difficulty answering; I don't particularly seem to have many of the secondary focuses that others do. My artistic side exists in and with my flesh and body, expression felt in my contours and my touch and seen on the dance floor; my sense of curiosity is sated well enough by exploring other people and their flesh; and my need to nurture is largely extinguished save for when it surfaces in brief spats to allow me to sculpt something of other women when I sense stifled sexual potential longing to break free. I have calm nights in just like anyone else, I sometimes play games, I sometimes go shopping; these are incidentals.
I am not as intense as this reads, not even by a long shot, but the perceived intensity matches the level of the fire inside me for it, so if you truly want to know about me it's something you should see. The rest is more lighthearted, I promise.
I am presently learning how to balance a work week with a social life. It's *quite* difficult and I'm not entirely sure I can honestly recommend working to anyone.
In a vastly broader and more long-term sense, I am diligently sculpting myself into a plastic doll and will not rest until every single thing on me that can be replaced or upgraded has been.
My own emotional control and maintenance, by which I mean that by and large I feel only what I want to, when I want to. I do not get in fights, I do not get angry, and I rarely get frustrated.
Things I am also skilled (though perhaps not 'really good') at include dancing, sex, figuring out why people sometimes choose to do the things they do even if they do not understand themselves, and sleep. Three of these things have proved vastly more useful than the fourth.
People also tend to immediately notice that I'm plastic. Good; I wouldn't have it any other way.
I'm also friendly, welcoming, and inviting unless given reason to not be.
Movies and TV shows largely exist as fodder to consume when recovering from surgery. For TV, I've really enjoyed It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Rick and Morty, and some of Netflix's originals.
Music is something I indulge in much more passionately, though I find it hard to appreciate music that's purely "human" in instrumentation, like rock, metal, or country. I prefer sound to be electronic and danceable or an electronically-composed ambient soundscape. Notable genres include deep house and breaks, and in the SF Bay Area I identify and associate with the Space Cowboys, Pink Mammoth, Dusty Rhino, and the Dancetronauts.
I eat vegetarian, and particularly love Thai and Indian food. Spicy, please.
How absolutely hollow and empty and at times largely uninteresting mere natural beauty is. Natural beauty is a meaningless roll of the dice; it says nothing about who you are, what's important to you, what you want to portray. It's dumb luck, and while I *was* born pretty, that prettiness is meaningless enough to me to be repulsive. What you CHOOSE to make of yourself says so much more. Natural beauty isn't pretty, it's hamfisted chance; fake is pretty.
Before that, going out at ten at night and dancing until noon the next day. I look forward to returning to it.
I also know exactly what my damage is and how to fix it, but I'd rather give in to it because it feels *so good*, and things that feel good should rarely be denied, don't you think?