The context: it is a couple days ago, a great time for appropriating other cultures.

Someone Else: You are wearing red today!
Me: Yes! I was feeling festive!
[ed. note: this was a lie; As with most things I do, I was wearing red for absolutely no reason at all. But that is *boring*.]
Someone Else: *looks confused*
Someone Else: About, uh, what?
Me: *vaguely remembers the note in the comics shop explaining the comics would be late this week*
Me: Memorial Day! :D

Yes, thank you. I am amazing. (Unless that is actually how Memorial Day is done? It could be! In which case, thank you, I *am* amazing!)

This last holiday season, my budget allowed me to get everyone the grown up version of spray-painted macaroni jewelry!

Which, yes you guys, I know it is dangerous to make such a statement when so much of my flist is suddenly into Black Jewels, but in this case I am talking about *personalized alcohol glasses*. THANK YOU.

I got my brother hooked on xkcd last year, so for him I adapted the Mobius Battle Strip into the medium of cordial glasses.

Here's the set (and please excuse my choice of, uh, backdrop. It was the brightest place I could find on short notice):

( You SEE wot I did thar? )

And when the battle is over, of course, you can finally set the *bottle* down.

What? I am sure he will use it totally responsibly.

 
I just bit a mosquito. (Accidentally, for the record.)

Is there some kind of irony award I should apply for?

Okay, so the problem is this. I want to write something - something *specific* - but I don't know what it is. My imagination is too taken up by mundane horrors; I have no room for plots. I am too frightened, surrounded as I am by the digital shadows of brilliant people. I am too cautious, too on-guard for signs betraying un-ironic earnestness. It is too easy to fall into a cycle between fannish ennui and a need for validation.

I used to write for myself. I used to write *stories*, and I've forgotten how to do that. I used to write love letters, but love has gone out of style, evolved into a game of counting hallmark comments and virtual kisses. Do you like me? Y/N, pick one, pick the first one, look how prettily I dance for you, and I'll only ever sing your name to a daisy with an odd number of petals.

I've forgotten what it means to live young in the wild countries of fandom, unmortgaged and untied. To make friends along the path and not worry about the politics of keeping them. I've nested too deep, settled too comfortably, built brick walls around my sleeping bag. I woke up one day in a society with a thousand written unofficial constitutions, and the forests are paved. I have obligations and I never even signed my passport.

But... that isn't the story I want to tell today.

 
Tell me what is.

Give me a prompt: a couple lines from a song would be favourite. An item and a vague sense of action. Something I can work with. Just no fandoms or characters or pairings; I am playing an association game today, and when you pose me a question you must give me room to answer.

And then... I will write something. Maybe just a sentence, but maybe something longer. And maybe it will be something you'll enjoy, but I promise not to worry very much about that.

And... maybe extra hand-holding is an unlikely solution to this problem, but it is all I can think of when I've forgotten how to let go.

I've been rather non-personable* of late, and, uh, I'm not sure when that'll pass. But there's a link I've been meaning to pass on for *days*!

The Maid of Might website has opened a Supergirl gallery, which pleases me greatly. (GREATLY. Poor Michelle must be pretty frightened of me by now; she was already having to deal with my random HAY THEY REFER TO SUPERMAN HAVING A COUSIN ON PANEL 4 OF PAGE 13 OF A NOV 1978 COMIC IS THAT RELEVANT? emails. I enthuse because I CARE, OKAY!)

Maid of Might is a Supergirl fansite run from a fangirl's pov, so the gallery has a policy of accepting only non-exploitative** images. If you've ever tried to track down Supergirl pictures on the internets, you'll understand why this safe space is a exciting thing. If you're a fan, you should check it out.

I've been uploading my collection of Kara pics. (Slowly, believe it or not.) I... might be at it a *while*.

As an example, here's ( a lovely painting by Andy Lee. ) I love Lee's stuff. It's so vibrant and expressive.

(And now! Back to hiding.)
 

*My current conversation range is "I am mopey because jPod and the Legion cartoon got cancelled and I am out of TV favourites" to "I am mopey because I hate paperwork and I hate my cell phone and I suck at coding and my family continues to be a movie YOU WOULD NOT BELIEVE IT." Really I am doing everyone a *favour*, here.

**Standard Disclaimer: I've got nothing against porniness, even porniness that plays to fetishes I don't share. But it's difficult to enjoy fanart if you're too busy steeling yourself against un-sought panty-shots (in the mild case), and anyway, there is every other gallery on the internet for that.

Things to add to the Probably Best Not To Eat list:

DrainO.

 
...Oops?

(But actually I am fine, and expect feeling to return in my tongue within a day or so.)

Karen: OMG I've ESCAPED from the MALL!
Karen's Canadian IM Buddy*: ZOMG!
Karen's Canadian IM Buddy: Do you still have your LIMBS?

---

Karen: OMG I've ESCAPED from the MALL!
Karen's American IM Buddy**: What were you doing in a mall?

(Although, for the record, I think that is a VERY GOOD QUESTION. I've never been much good at Boxing Day.)

 
*
**

This morning, I was helping my mom move building supplies from the back of her truck into the house.

My Mom: *spins around, glancing me with a large metal sheet*
My Mom: Oh dear!
My Mom: I'll have to be more careful. If I can bang you, I can bang ANYTHING!
Me: ... *mumblemumble*
My Mom: Sorry? Did you say something?
Me: Erm.
Me: No?

 

A long while ago, thete1 wrote a post on race. And I went "Yes! Now I am inspired to finish that essay sitting on my harddrive since people first squeed about Outsiders! It's a good thing I waited so long, as today fandom has even more examples that will add weight to my thesis!"

And, indeed! I added a few hundred words to the essay, agonizing over each one. Was it fair to bring up a movie if I was not, myself, familiar with the canon? Were my issues with the town Eureka was filmed in actually relevant? Were my commas in the right places? Was I using terminology correctly? I was, and still am, all but completely unfamiliar with the literature on racial identity and history. Was there *any* way I could post it and avoid looking like an asshole?

So, yeah, I stalled on the essay. Probably for the best all around, because honestly? I didn't *want* to write a long, thoughtful essay on why most genre media fandoms suck, and I can't imagine very many people would want to read it. It'd hardly be saying anything new, after all.

The reason I tried to write that essay at all is because I wanted to tell *this* story. However, I wanted to do so in an objective and convincing way with, like, numbers and graphs and stuff, so that it wasn't just all about me, personally.

But screw that. It's all personal, and it's all about me.

It's always all about me.



( WHY I HATE THE LEGION OF SUPER-HEROES, by Karen, number one fan. )