So...
It's Allies Week here at school, and I went to a comedienne's performance called Ask A Lesbian- Tips for Straight Chicks. She was very funny, and it was a small crowd so she was very interactive. Once in a while she would ask a question, and someone would answer, and I knew a lot of answers or could answer in the affirmative to many of her questions, so she interacted with me a lot, which is cool, but the thing that got me was she started calling me Cute Ellen. Later into the act, she remarking on how awesome she thought I was. She could somehow tell I was straight, too, just from me answering the question of how the LLAP sign originated. Early in the show she talked about how when she went to college she learned that she was attractive to black men and lesbians- story of my life right there. On that note, she was also asking a lot of people about their first kisses- I thought about telling my story, but I don't think this school, nor my reputation at this school for that matter, is quite ready for a story of that magnitude. Moral of the story: apparently I'm cute and awesome? I'm okay with that, tbh.
Then I went to swing club, and this guy I've been eying was trying to impress me [i think]. And so were these two others...I wonder if bringing a date to Snowball is an actual possibility for me. THAT would be a shocker. I'd be like Neville Longbottom :]
My friends had me try this thing called Yogalates with them- it was awful.
Would you like to read my story about Matt Bellamy?
Of course you would.
So remember when I told you guys that my friends and I wrote short stories for fun based on single sentences? Well, this is the result of one of them. The first line is the sentence I was provided with. Enjoy!
When The Zetas Fill The Skies
Rating: G
They had always told me I was British. As far as they were concerned, I WAS British, a second-generation Englishman from Belfast; they had worked hard to earn me this identity. Naturally they didn’t tell me of my “alternative” origin until I was old enough to understand it. But there were signs even my immature self could decipher- I never went to the doctor’s office as a child. I never got any shots. I never ran out of breath when I played tag with my friends. I kept my high vocal range, even after puberty- it got lower, but also higher. I’m able to tickle myself- I bet you can’t do that. And my hair changes color. I don’t mean it bleaches in the summer and darkens in the winter, I mean it bleaches in the summer, turns blue in the winter, goes red in between, and then flat black sometimes just for kicks. Everyone thought I was so cool because my mum would let me dye my hair in primary school. I never told them it was my own.
About the time I turned 16 my parents sat me down with that parent-y look on their faces, the face that either means “you’re adopted,” “you’re getting the sex talk,” or “we know you’re gay, and we love you the way you are, sweetheart.” I didn’t hear any of those things, thank Darwin. But what I did hear led me to where I am now.
Of course, being a teenage wanker with a guitar, I rejected the truth completely, recoiled from it and blocked it from my mind. I went into denial about my own identity. I started dyeing my hair to stop it changing colors. I worked hard in school so I could go to University and get away from everything that reminded me of myself. Once that much-awaited day came, I shipped off to Teignmouth Community College and joined bands. Bands with ridiculous names like Carnage Mayhem with whom I could just flail about on my guitar and not worry about what it all means. But then I met Dom.
He had a baby face, Dom. A face that you wanted to give the world to, but then protect from the world at the same time. Dom was a drummer, and a damn good one. His hair was as pale as mine was when it cared to be, paired with deep blue eyes that interviewed your soul as you stared into them and wondered what to say. With him, I wasn’t afraid of the past I had never known. I grew to love it, and as I learned more and more about it, I became better acquainted with myself. Once I had learned all I needed to, I told Dom about myself, even though I wasn’t supposed to. I told him everything.
My name is Matthew Bellamy, and I am a Zeta.
My species comes from a planet called Cydon, somewhere in the Pleiades star cluster. It’s really a fascinating structure if you can get a proper look at it. My parents were good friends of the leaders of the Exogenesis Project, an initiative to integrate communities of Zetas into the existing populations of planets far removed from the home system in the event of a global disaster. Cydon’s climate was changing as the stars in the cluster matured, and my parents wanted their children to have a better chance at survival on a planet whose star was already mature. Their connection to the project earned them a spot on the second Exogenesis mission; I was born in transit. To prepare for cultural assimilation, my parents played lots of Earth music during the trip- Haydn, Radiohead, Sinatra, Hendrix. When we landed, we were escorted to our new residence in Devon, England by the host government’s space program. We weren’t normal, but the English left us to our own. My mum died her green hair auburn, my dad dyed his black hair white in some places, and I played with my toes. We were content.
Dom listened without comment- he’d been come out to before, but this was a story he’d never heard. He thought about it for a minute, his luminous eyes on the floor, his hand on his chin. After a moment, he looked me in the eye and said words that changed my life forever-“Would you like to join my band?” I said I would.
As conspiracies unwind
Will you slam shut
Or free your mind
or stay hypnotized?
Then I went to swing club, and this guy I've been eying was trying to impress me [i think]. And so were these two others...I wonder if bringing a date to Snowball is an actual possibility for me. THAT would be a shocker. I'd be like Neville Longbottom :]
My friends had me try this thing called Yogalates with them- it was awful.
Would you like to read my story about Matt Bellamy?
Of course you would.
So remember when I told you guys that my friends and I wrote short stories for fun based on single sentences? Well, this is the result of one of them. The first line is the sentence I was provided with. Enjoy!
When The Zetas Fill The Skies
Rating: G
They had always told me I was British. As far as they were concerned, I WAS British, a second-generation Englishman from Belfast; they had worked hard to earn me this identity. Naturally they didn’t tell me of my “alternative” origin until I was old enough to understand it. But there were signs even my immature self could decipher- I never went to the doctor’s office as a child. I never got any shots. I never ran out of breath when I played tag with my friends. I kept my high vocal range, even after puberty- it got lower, but also higher. I’m able to tickle myself- I bet you can’t do that. And my hair changes color. I don’t mean it bleaches in the summer and darkens in the winter, I mean it bleaches in the summer, turns blue in the winter, goes red in between, and then flat black sometimes just for kicks. Everyone thought I was so cool because my mum would let me dye my hair in primary school. I never told them it was my own.
About the time I turned 16 my parents sat me down with that parent-y look on their faces, the face that either means “you’re adopted,” “you’re getting the sex talk,” or “we know you’re gay, and we love you the way you are, sweetheart.” I didn’t hear any of those things, thank Darwin. But what I did hear led me to where I am now.
Of course, being a teenage wanker with a guitar, I rejected the truth completely, recoiled from it and blocked it from my mind. I went into denial about my own identity. I started dyeing my hair to stop it changing colors. I worked hard in school so I could go to University and get away from everything that reminded me of myself. Once that much-awaited day came, I shipped off to Teignmouth Community College and joined bands. Bands with ridiculous names like Carnage Mayhem with whom I could just flail about on my guitar and not worry about what it all means. But then I met Dom.
He had a baby face, Dom. A face that you wanted to give the world to, but then protect from the world at the same time. Dom was a drummer, and a damn good one. His hair was as pale as mine was when it cared to be, paired with deep blue eyes that interviewed your soul as you stared into them and wondered what to say. With him, I wasn’t afraid of the past I had never known. I grew to love it, and as I learned more and more about it, I became better acquainted with myself. Once I had learned all I needed to, I told Dom about myself, even though I wasn’t supposed to. I told him everything.
My name is Matthew Bellamy, and I am a Zeta.
My species comes from a planet called Cydon, somewhere in the Pleiades star cluster. It’s really a fascinating structure if you can get a proper look at it. My parents were good friends of the leaders of the Exogenesis Project, an initiative to integrate communities of Zetas into the existing populations of planets far removed from the home system in the event of a global disaster. Cydon’s climate was changing as the stars in the cluster matured, and my parents wanted their children to have a better chance at survival on a planet whose star was already mature. Their connection to the project earned them a spot on the second Exogenesis mission; I was born in transit. To prepare for cultural assimilation, my parents played lots of Earth music during the trip- Haydn, Radiohead, Sinatra, Hendrix. When we landed, we were escorted to our new residence in Devon, England by the host government’s space program. We weren’t normal, but the English left us to our own. My mum died her green hair auburn, my dad dyed his black hair white in some places, and I played with my toes. We were content.
Dom listened without comment- he’d been come out to before, but this was a story he’d never heard. He thought about it for a minute, his luminous eyes on the floor, his hand on his chin. After a moment, he looked me in the eye and said words that changed my life forever-“Would you like to join my band?” I said I would.
As conspiracies unwind
Will you slam shut
Or free your mind
or stay hypnotized?