I like giraffes. They tick all the right boxes for me. They have nice faces, their massive necks provide a cool USP, and they look fucking ridiculous when they fight and screw. They're pretty awesome.
I don't give them much thought though.
However if you looked at my bedroom, you'd think that giraffes are absolutely central to my existence. There's giraffe statues, cuddly toy giraffes, giraffe sketches, giraffe wall masks. Giraffes, giraffes, giraffes. I look like the kind of guy who might travel to Kenya and hide near the top of acacia trees with his trousers round his ankles. Frankly, I look like a giraffe stalker.
All my giraffes were given as gifts. Every single one. I have no idea how this started. I imagine, at some point in the past, I commented on how much I liked giraffes. I may have even fixated on them briefly, but it's hard to keep track because I tend to to this with any number of shiny things. In the past few months I've fixated on progressive death metal bands, the python programming language, building a completely over the top gaming PC, Adult Swim shows... the list goes on. I fixate. It's a thing I do.
So I got given a giraffe as a gift. The word spread that I was a guy who liked giraffes. I got given other giraffes. People saw all my giraffes and decided that I must *really* like giraffes and got me more giraffes.
And I do like giraffes. And I don't want to sound ungrateful. Or, since it's my birthday this week, send someone into a panic about me not liking the giraffe they've got me as a present. It's not like that. My ADD fueled personal preferences make me a nightmare to buy gifts for.
I just think it's interesting how we paint people in broad brushstrokes. And that my broadest stroke appears to be "that giraffe guy".
- Broad brushstrokes