Cloey

 

 C’mon.  I’ve been standing here, money in hand, for 20 minutes—

wish there was an open seat…God; Scooby-Doo couldn’t match-up to that dog’s breath.

I’m not even sure that’s a costume!  Christ I’m a bitch.  Why am I being a bitch?  It’s

 Halloween, I should be enjoying myself—DAMN!  What do I have to do to get a drink

around here?  Take off my panties and non-challantly toss them in his face like he’s Eddie

fuckin’ Van-Halen?!  Ok, why does Waldo’s personal hooker get served before me?...Oh,

right, why on earth am I asking such a silly question.  Hey, maybe that’s why I have the attitude

of Medusa’s hair-do…everyone else is drunk and dumb, and I’m still waitin’ on Dicky McBall-

Sack, the one-headed bartender!  Shit.  Is this place’s policy “sluts slurp first” or what?  Whoa

dude, so not feelin’ the hobbit love.  Well, that was interesting…he wasn’t bad looking, I’m just

not in the fucking mood for pleasantries.  If I wasn’t being forced to play night watch for the

town drunks, I might’ve been more inclined to flirt back…instead of being such an ice-queen. 

God, finally; it’s about time this dill-weed took my money.  Of course, he couldn’t see me

without all my legs and half my ass hangin’ out.  Shit, I guess a medieval-style gown, with my

girls bouncin’ half-way out of it didn’t do it for him.  No taste.  No mystery.  Men don’t even

have to think about anything anymore—huh, probably ‘cause most women don’t want to think

about much either.  And then they wonder why every guy just strings ‘em and leaves ‘em;

because some of us don’t make them work for it anymore, so then they just get used.  Ok, Ken-

doll, drink on its way...or is there a plastic mound for his brain, too?  Jesus, ‘bout time…no, the

Tequila Rose is supposed to sit on top of the Butter shots—damn-it, whatever.  At least I have a

fuckin’ drink; now I can down this and maybe have some fun with the rest of the drunken freak

show.                  

 

    This is actually a monologue that I wrote when I was in my 20s, and the character that I bestowed the name "Cloey" upon is actually me. These were the thoughts and feelings that were running through my head one Halloween night, when I was out with friends. I could be a spit-fire in my younger years, yet, despite the hell-cat type thoughts, that's all they were, simply thoughts, never coming from that point, through to my mouth. I had a lot of anger mixed with a good deal of fear back then, and even though I may never have actually said these things, looking back, I feel as though those around me could see the chip I was carrying. This monologue, and the 20-something me came to mind immediately as I watched the video on the impact of D&D and the community that lives within the game play. As I listened to so many people speak of how this game allows them a place to release emotion, experience a freedom, and has even saved their lives, I thought of this monologue, and of me, in the pain I was going through then. I struggled through a very abusive relationship at that time (my first of two relationships of that kind which were utter nightmares), and I learned how to fall silent, how to keep my pain internalized. And when I wasn't merely silent, to say and do whatever I could to get them to stop. Stop calling me worthless, stupid, crippled, to stop throwing things and punching holes into walls, to just stop. And while in this monologue there is a great deal of sarcasm and humor, it was all there to hide a very deeply felt pain. Also, as I look back on this, having learned all that I have, I see the direct connotations, the explicit use of bodily imagery, not only taking on the form of humor, but in taking on the form of stereotyping. I was young, not feeling very good about myself, and I was categorizing, placing myself and the people around me that night into little boxes of what I was seeing them, as well as myself, as embodying. The ideas and theories in what makes up Queer Theory are so all encompassing, so impacting, I am grateful to have been a part of this experience this semester, because as I look back to that scared, angry kid I was, and I see the person I am now, I know some of it is owed to what has been taught to me. I am a Crip cisgender, I have epilepsy, I am blind in my left eye, I am resilient, I am a come-back-kid. I am beautiful in my skin, as I am, and as I continue to grow.