The Piecemeal Man (abmann) wrote,
The Piecemeal Man
abmann

What’s in a Name?

When my girlfriend and I broke up this year after nearly ten years, it was a bit of a wake up call. We ended our romantic relationship as entirely different people than those we were in college. (It happens and I feel a very healthy thing too.) It made me realize that, while I felt like a different person, I didn’t really understand who I was.

Too, I’ve been renegaged (unabashedly) in the kink scene in town, which is the second time around. Before, I was a nascent college graduate and was wildly searching for anything to grasp. I didn’t have many interests, friends or identifying characteristics; I didn’t really get life, the universe and everything. I was an über gaming geek in college and vaguely unwedded to both my majors. When I left that, all I had was my job, my cats and my girlfriend in a little apartment in rural Wisconsin.

Obviously, the first thing you do is open your relationship, jump into kink, and clench double-fisted to any relatively curious LiveJournal-er you found. I have come to understand that I was looking more for who I was than friends or women or kink.

Thing is, the identity I have for myself is the same. It has evolved a little bit – Angrybunnyman to ABMann – but it resonates so much of who I was and…. I’m not sure if it is right anymore.

First: there’s all that history. I registered AngryBunnyMan on June 5th, 2003 after an acquaintance of mine gave me an invite. LJ used to be all exclusive N’ Shit. I’ve been posting regularly for most of that time, including a full book of poetry written in the fall of 2004. There’s the learning process of all that photography and photoshop. Pretty much, there’s everything that has lead to Me today.

Second: there’s the psychic baggage. There’s the headstrong and socially unaware LJ commenter who used ASCII art in lieu of any thought. There’s the dude who got offended when Graydancer complimented a Matanawa tie (dude, don’t ask me how that logiced in my brain). There was, in short, the guy who had No Idea and to this day I still get pangs or regret from it. It’s part of how my shame response works, which is a entry unto itself, and part I never apologized for a number of those things.

The desire for a new start is strong. The desire to wash away all the shame and history and recreate myself is intoxicating.

In part I fear that I am less desirable a friend, lover, or play partner with all the ridiculousness, all the demons lined up behind me. In part, I can’t overcome the shame of so many demonstrably inane things that only I remember. In part, it is a focus and reason to truly redefine everything I am now.

And is it really worth it? The Internet is permanent and enduring in such odd ways. It is so easy to search and find almost anything about a person – I can still find a shitty book review I wrote years ago for a book now out of print nearly a decade. The link between my name now and what is yet un-denoted is already forming.

Is it worth denying any if what I was? Is it worth it, breaking any links or chains?

Will it actually make a difference creating a me tomorrow?

 

Originally published at Portrait of the Young Man as an Artist. You can comment here or there.

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