This Year's Model of Humanity

Well, this is my four-thousandth post. That's a lot of posts.

*squints*

Yep, that's quite a lot of posts. In celebration of this, I give you a brief history of my life in fandom and what it has taught me.
( From Star Trek to Star Wars, and all the un-Sci-Fi stuff in between )
This does not cover every fandom that I love, or even every fandom that I've written in. It just covers some of the ones that I felt taught me important lessons that I've carried with me, not just into new fandoms, but into life. Lessons about viewing the world and the people around me. Lessons about questions and about answers.

And, in every fandom that I've entered, I've encountered at least a few bright and wonderful souls that I've stayed near, people that I couldn't imagine not deeply caring about, no matter where my fandom interests take me. People like fox1013 and brooding_soul, my first friends on the internet, who I met on MBTV before I'd ever signed up on lj or heard of its existence. People like kita0610 and ros_fod, who I've gone through emotionally-tough times with, and who I'm exceedingly grateful to know.

Honestly, I could run down my flist and call out dozens (hell, hundreds) of names. You, all of you, give my life color and life beyond anything that I could have imagined. I keep thinking that I should do some sort of flist culling, but every time that I call up that edit page, I realize that I can't part with a single one of you. People that I've known from the *NSYNC days, people that I have discovered searching out new fandoms... each of you brings a vivid shade of color to my flist and to my life. Here, there's a flash of hobbit love that I couldn't do without, and over there, the Harry Potter flame burns bright and I want to bask in the fire. 

I love them all. I still love them all.

And I don't see that love going anywhere any time soon.

In celebration of such a day as this (four thousand posts, man!), I just want to say that, if you want to know, I will tell you why I think you're all types of wonderful. Comment to receive love. As simple as that. I have Saturdays off, so I should have pretty good response time today, too.

So, there is a thing happening on the sidelines of my flist -- seems to be mostly SGA-related, which is not my area of focus, so I will not be getting involved in any of the details. Anyway, the thing in question is about whether or not public crit of fanfiction should be allowed, and if it should, whether the author's intentions should be taken into account.

For the record -- I do not, and feel that I should not, have any say in what people say about my stories. If you love them, yay. If you hate them, I'm curious as to why. If you mostly like them except for one or two (or twelve) things, then I really, really want to know. Because I want to know how good a job I'm doing and how to improve. Writing is communication. If people don't understand me, then I didn't succeed in communicating to them. And, to me, that is what matters.

So, I pay attention to my feedback. I notice what people point out as their favorite spots (especially if it's mentioned by several people -- I'm still thrilled to bits over people praising my Leia characterization), and I also notice when people mention that something doesn't seem to fit.

There are three recent cases that specifically stand out to me -- one where I disagreed with the feedback and two where I agreed.
( specific examples from my current WIP -- White Rabbits, a Star Wars slash fic )

All of which is to say -- if you are moved by my fiction on a level deep enough to comment on it, please don't feel that you need to sugarcoat your words. I can take the truth.

More than that, if you don't want to, you don't need to inform me of your comments -- speaking from experience, many rec journals don't actually tell the authors that they've been recommended. They have that right and so do crit communities. Once my stories exist outside my head, they are no longer my sole property, though I retain the right to edit them as I please and repost them -- much as George Lucas has done with the earlier Star Wars movies. But any earlier versions do still potentially exist, of course -- if nowhere else, they exist in the minds of the people who read them and remember them. Theoretically, a story that was only under friendslock exists outside these boundaries, as it is not public, but as I post my stories public, this does not apply to me.

Now, if an author dislikes being criticized in public, then each reader does have to decide if they want to move forward anyway, balancing the risks (if an author takes crit to heart or feels that they're being personally attacked, they may leave fandom) against the rewards (honest and open discussion of a particular story). And the potential always exists that the author will feel insulted or hurt, because our stories are like dearly beloveds, in many ways.

But, bottom-line, I don't believe that readers (or any consumers of public media) require permission to speak about something that has been publicly released in any form, web or otherwise. 

Though if you'd prefer to have the author's permission before dissecting a story of theirs, I'm giving that permission right now.

...

I just told someone why I haven't friended them back.

I hate having to do that, though I do think that it's a bit tacky to say something that implies the question. It's just... it's like, if you say, "Oh, I guess you haven't seen my entries on that," I'm not going to say, "Oh my, I've forgotten to friend you, let me rush to do that."

Still, coming out and letting someone know that you haven't been reading their stuff and why... makes me feel more than a little like I'm being selfish or something.

On the other hand, he doesn't capitalize anything or use apostrophes. And that really does tend to give me headaches.

Making things worse, this is someone that I've met off-line. Where I couldn't tell if he used capitals or not. And he's not a bad guy at all. And he's not rude, just... a little bit pushy, yeah?

Just... I dislike being put in a corner. And this is my journal.

People have opinions. People have very strong opinions sometimes. And people who have different strong opinions can and will disagree. And this is just discussion. It's often productive and can lead to good things.

But once you've said something that comes across as a moral judgement, then the productivity tends to fall. And people certainly have the right to say those things, but they should not be surprised when people feel personally insulted (well, again, they certainly can be surprised, but after it's happened several times, acting surprised makes them look either a. incredibly naive and possibly amnesiac or b. like they're trying to start a fight).

I mean, I read a post where someone asks "How can you not see [RPS] as ethically creepy?" and think... "Because... I don't. My ethics say that fantasy and reality are different things and different rules apply to them."

By saying that your ethics and morals are the only valid ones, you've just said that mine are invalid. Now, is that a fair opinion and do you have the right to say it? Sure. But you shouldn't be shocked if a person who isn't creeped out by RPS takes offense to the idea that this makes them morally bankrupt.

Similarly, implying or saying that the reason that people don't write or read Jack/Sam and are icked out by it is because they are sexist will offend people. You have the right to believe that it makes someone sexist. But you should not surprised when people take offense at the implication that they are sexist.

You should not be surprised if people are offended by the implication that they are racist. Etc.

Say whatever you want, definitely. But the world is cause and effect. People will react to what you say and they have just as much right to do that. Say whatever you want... and be prepared for the consequences. That's just life.

Better run for the hills! Hee. I amuse myself. First off, the thoughtful icon for the ferret icons is adorable. Glasses are cute. Well, wire-frame glasses are invariably cute.

Anyway, I was thinking about how honest I am on-line. I just say what I feel, no bullshit. Just knowing that it doesn't matter who I am and what I look like is incredibly freeing. That was one of my main problems with HS. Stereotypes are so deeply embedded into the whole High School experience and it can make that experience a living hell for those of us who don't fit the popular mode.

I couldn't ever tell anyone how I was feeling in HS. I knew that what I felt was fucked-up. God, the few times that I tried to break into those circles always ended in miserable, painful failure. I was one of the girls who couldn't talk to guys, unless they were gay, in which case, I was fairly relaxed around them. They weren't a threat to my well-being because I knew that the reason that they didn't think of me romantically was about being gay and not about me being unattractive.

Girls I had a hard time relating to because I didn't know where they had gotten this ability to interact with guys. And then when I realized that I was attracted to girls too, they became even harder to get close to. Suddenly, both sexes were this big mystery to me that I was afraid to touch or examine. I was afraid to find out how unwanted that I could feel.

I remember the days in HS when I would cut class. I would only do two things on those days; I would either lock myself in a bathroom stall or leave the school to spend the day in a baseball dugout in a field nearby. I was constantly reading romance novels, mostly I think to try to figure out just what these women had that drew men to them.

I can remember the days when the pain got to be too much and I used a knife on myself. It was always on the little band of skin that would be covered by my watch. I only ever did small cuts. I think it was mostly for the pain that proved that I was alive. And I had this twisted idea that if I showed my pain on my skin it would release the pain inside. So stupid.

My mom found out when the school called about my absences. I almost flunked out my Junior year because of that.

After that I went the Centennial Learning Center, a more... flexible branch of the school. I graduated there, in a class of 16.

So, I never talked to anyone. Not really. I never told anyone about the biting loneliness and the aching need to be close to someone, anyone. A need that was filled only by books and desperate prayers to a God that I believed in but didn't fully trust.

I probably only cut myself 30 times total. The last time was a little over two months ago. You can still see the marks on arm, though everyone believed me when I told them that they were scratches.

I still get the urge to cut sometimes. I wonder if that'll ever go away or if every time that my life gets tough I'll think longing of the pain and release from cutting. Fuck.