Love Letters: The Ination

            Heyyyy, kids!

            For those of you who are anxiously awaiting my continuation of my KonMari journey narrative (all of you imaginary people who care deeply about housecleaning?) I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait a bit longer. Through the entire month of April, I am participating in Camp Nanowrimo, which is a more flexible version of November’s Nanowrimo event. I learned pretty quickly that I am incapable of writing 800+ words of a novel a day and decluttering my home in the same month. I will return to my KonMari journey in May.

            Until then, I figured right now was an excellent time to launch an idea I’ve been bouncing around in my head for a good long time: Love Letters. In case you couldn’t tell by my intensely long-winded posts about films, fictional characters, music, psychology, sex, and whatever else happens to be on my mind, I am a wee bit prone to obsession. I am also more than a wee bit prone to romanticizing the hell out of a few of my obsessions. These obsessions have made a huge impact on my life. They inspire me, challenge my preconceived notions, or have even shaped me into who I am today. Because I am a firm believer in voicing my gratitude, I can think of no better way to do so than to write “love letters” to these pieces of art, events, and communities that have helped me become the half-crazed and happy little freak I am today.

            Without further ado, I would like to start with perhaps the single biggest influence on my adult (such as I am) life: The Ination.

Dear The Ination:

AKA: My Neverland, My Lost Boys Treehouse, my Twisted Little Family, and, of course, my Beloved Darkling Throng.

You were literally the first subject of this blog when I began it six years ago. I had just begun going regularly back then, and I romanticized the hell out of the experience, but I had no idea the impact you would have on my life even then.

I wish I could say I remembered the first time I came out to then Sky Bar. I know it was a decade ago. Yeah, a decade, no fucking joke. 2007, bitch. I was a wee freshman in stockings and petal skirts, not shy about dancing or showing my skin, but nowhere near the half-naked apocalyptic gypsy vampire queen I would become. My earliest memory of you, though not my first time visiting, is clear. I stood on the outskirts of a packed dance floor, eyes closed, absorbing the electric energy surrounding me. The Gothfather, then the head DJ, growled over the mic that he was pleased to introduce a new music video. An eerie boom echoed over the dance floor, and I opened my eyes to see an emaciated face flashing white with strobes on the screens over the bar stage. The music seeped into my skin and squeezed my heart into a frantic rhythm, and I was dancing before I made the decision to join the hoard on the dance floor. It was then, with Parasitic thudding through my veins for the first time, that I knew I had found a place where I truly belonged.

Thanks for kicking off that now lifelong obsession, btw.

Though I wasn’t to attend regularly for another few years, every return to Ination (then IGUN) felt like a homecoming. I was too shy to talk to anyone other than my friends at that point, but I let loose on that dance floor with absolutely no fear of anyone judging me, leering at me, or grabbing me. I hungrily absorbed the music I heard, begging my friends to ask the weird DJ with the spotlight to tell them what the last song he played had been, because I didn’t have the courage. During my first truly terrible relationship, IGUN was my safe haven, where I could go without fear of my then-boyfriend causing a scene or convincing me that everyone was judging me or hated me, because he was banned from the bar. Though his suspicious accusations eventually made me stop attending altogether until the relationship imploded, I count IGUN as an anchor to my drifting sense of reality during that time. Hell, the Gothfather himself had pulled me aside and warned me about my then-boyfriend when we had started to date. From day 1, you were my community and your members reached out to help me. I’m only sorry I didn’t listen at the time!

After that relationship, during my first long stretch of living alone and single, IGUN transformed into the Ination and you folded me right into your dark arms. I finally grew a pair and started talking to people then, finally putting names to the warm faces drifting around the dance floor and smoking out on the back patio. It was then that you became my playground. I experimented with my outfits, getting crazier and more theatrical each week (I have a chemical burn on my breast from Gorilla Glue to prove it.) I carved out a little space for myself on the dance floor. I chatted and cuddled and even flirted with people, having truly come out of my little cocoon. You were even the catalyst for my first ever spontaneous hookup! He was a hot one, too. Worked at the bar. Josh-something? Anyway, by then, Ination had become the foundation of a great deal of the music I listened to, the dance skills I sharpened, and even inspired me to write a novel I would spend the next five fucking years working on…the novel I hope to self-publish in the next year.

When I left for Columbus in 2012, it was like leaving a piece of me behind. My heart ached every Wednesday night, and I took time off of work to visit every chance I got. Every visit left me in tears, because I knew I had to leave. But even though I was 2 hours away and unable to visit regularly, my beloved darkling throng never abandoned me. Friendships I had fostered at the bar and on the floor stayed strong in my absence, and kept me from going mad with loneliness with loving Facebook posts. During a particularly dark period of my life, my darling Charity even got everyone to write messages to me on posters and gave them to me with photos, Joker stickers, gothy comics, and, of course, a mix cd from Darks Choir. Even trapped in another city in yet another shitty relationship (still didn’t learn,) my darkling throng found a way to keep me sane.

It was Audioflesh, the aforementioned “weird DJ with the spotlight,” who ended up convincing me to move back to BG, after a heartfelt discussion during the 15^th Anniversary. I had been toying with the idea of finishing my degree, but until that “come back home” conversation, it was more likely I was going to stay in Columbus in my mediocre job and shitty relationship. Once again, my darkling throng came through for me, this time giving me the push I needed to get my life back in order.

Back in BG, the feelings of loneliness and isolation I had felt in Columbus were nonexistent. Armed with a new bestie (love you, Kins!) and reunited with my beautiful freaks, I was able to move on from my shitty relationship. Around then, I ended up re-hooking up with that one hot guy from before. Score.

And then we got engaged, following an elaborate plan that took me completely by surprise in the absolutely perfect place for the love of my life to propose to me: The Ination dance floor.

Ination, you are practically my creator. You embraced me as a doe-eyed freshman, sheltered me during some of the hardest times in my life (some of which I wasn’t able to mention in this post,) and provided a safe haven for me to grow as a writer, artist, dancer, and person. You gave me music that inspired and changed me, and friendships that will carry on for my entire life. You gave me my husband, the first truly happy and healthy relationship I’ve ever had. You are almost single-handedly responsible for who I am today, and for the family I will create in the future (Ination babies!) There is no word to express the gratitude I have for you, the love I have for you. I find myself once again living 2 hours away from you, and it hurts as badly as the first time, but I know that no matter how many months pass between visits, I will be able to step onto that dance floor as if I had just been there last week. The music may change, the faces may change, but you, Ination, will always be my one true home.

Fuck you, you beautiful freaks.