a fool's musings

Fool, said my muse to me, look in thy heart and write...

Warning: Adult Content achromatic unfinished fic graveyard recs journal new stuff recent stuff my back pages January 2004 December 2003 November 2003 October 2003 September 2003 August 2003 July 2003 June 2003 May 2003 April 2003 March 2003 February 2003 January 2003 December 2002 November 2002 October 2002 September 2002 August 2002 July 2002 June 2002 May 2002 April 2002 March 2002 February 2002 January 2002 December 2001 November 2001 the five Ws, or, all about me profile e-mail victoria my livejournal the original P&R comments current mood: "pathological and unbalanced" Items of Interest People LiveJournal folks Baraita bishclone claritylit Jintian Kat Allison Kit Mason metablog mix-tapes Neil Gaiman Nestra Sarah T. Seema Shrift Sundry Mourning zendom Music Walk On - U2 Thunder Road - Bruce Springsteen If I Can't Change Your Mind - Sugar Sick of Myself - Matthew Sweet Town Called Malice - The Jam One - U2 The Space Between - DMB Books Lord of the Rings Catch-22 The Neely Trilogy Absalom! Absalom! Possession: A Romance Foucault's Pendulum Dreamhouse LA Confidential I Capture the Castle Sandman Waking the Moon Shows Angel Buffy the Vampire Slayer (in reruns) Alias West Wing The Simpsons webrings < ? fanfiction ! > < ? writers ! > diaryreviews.diaryland.com NYC Bloggers Comments by Haloscan.com all links, if I haven't screwed up somehow, should open in a new browser window

2002-03-09 - 10:15 p.m. gorgeous women Gloria Reuben is one of the most luminescent and beautiful women on television. Damn. She's up there with Charisma Carpenter, Gillian Anderson, Annette O'Toole, Amber Benson and Jennifer Garner on my list of amazingly gorgeous women who just make me catch my breath whenever I see them (though I don't like the pic of Garner on the cover of last week's EW. Doesn't look like her at all, to me.). Of course, the woman on television I'd most like to be is CJ Cregg. Allison Janney kicks *ass*. So she's gorgeous, but not in that heartstopping way the others are. I also think Melina Kanakaredes is stunning, but her show is so... icky that it works against her. *g* Of movie actresses, my "omigod, she's so beautiful she makes me hurt" list includes Jodie Foster, Natalie Portman, Jennifer Connelly, Angela Bassett, and (no surprise here, I still have a crush on her, or on Rogue, anyway) Anna Paquin (though I know objectively she's not in their league) and Halle Berry. Hmm... Did you know Garner has been cast as Elektra in the "Daredevil" movie they're making (with Ben Affleck as Daredevil, I think)? Is that the same Elektra who seems to get to have nookie with Wolverine? And that's a nice way to segue into other snips I'm thinking about... The conversation in Keep It Like a Secret where Rogue and Logan finally discuss the miscarriage (Thanks, Meg) From the post-capture conversation in the diner to the ending of Jim Morrison's Dead (Thanks, Jen) The ending of A Thousand Words where Kitty poses for Piotr the ending of Kindness Falls Like Rain all of He Knows Anyone got any other suggestions, or opinions on these? ~victoria [current mood: ] [current music: ] [random quote: ] ~*~ 2002-03-09 - 7:30 p.m. more on misogyny, and other stuff... More stuff on misogyny and fanfic here, here, and here. Also, Sarah T. touches on it tangentially in the entry called "Art and craft," a topic I agree with her on whole-heartedly, and will discuss at a later date. *g* I don’t know why I keep coming back to this topic, and why I write about it, when I can just let Te and LaT and others do the talking - far more articulately in some cases - for me. Here’s what I wrote in Te’s comments: I pretty much agree with you, but then, I have my own irrational pride in myself as being a fan of both het and slash, and so I tend to see het fans as more open and willing to embrace “alternative” or slash pairings, whereas I see hetsquick all over the place in slash. I agree that slash is not automatically or inherently misogynistic, but I think it often provides a more *overt* outlet for latent misogyny to appear. It’s harder, as a good writer of het, to make all the women disappear, you know? *g* For whatever reason. I think the misogyny that appears in fanfic - both het and slash - is more about the people who produce it than the communities themselves, though the communities can sometimes be alarmingly supportive of such fiction. And also, in response to her response: Te: Just as the gen/hetfic world can be an outlet for homophobia—latent or overt. me: Absolutely. I’ve seen some horrifically homophobic comments made on het lists, that make me want to 1. beat the speaker and 2. yak in disgust and shame that I am in the same fandom niche as they are. I guess it’s just that I’ve not seen, in the fic I read, a lot of homophobia, whereas I see misogyny in fic all the time (and mostly in het, btw, though it pops up in slash as well. I guess because of the percentage of het I read vs. slash, that would tend to be so.). So yeah, I know it’s out there. I’m just lucky enough not to have run into it. And I think, that as someone who has been careful over the years to not label myself a feminist, because of a lot of reasons that now strike me as hogwash (including not liking being associated with any “ism”, the negative connotation “feminist” has taken on in our society, my own discomfort with my preference for the “stay-at-home-and-be-a-mom” lifestyle [even though I will probably never achieve it, it’s what I want], and how, growing up, I felt that the feminists I told this to disparaged me, and well, I’m a grudgeholder. I have a long memory. If someone slights me or treats me or mine badly, I don’t forget that. Especially if it’s not me, but a friend or family member. I’ll take a lot of shit talking about myself, but woe unto someone who badmouths a loved one of mine]), that I’m coming to this discussion of the way women treat other women in fiction, and the way American society presents women in media, late. I mean, I always knew it was there. And I never wanted to be considered "just a girl" - I always wanted to be considered on my own merits, and an equal to the boys in every way (though I suck at many physical stereotypical masculine acts, like most sports). But until recently, I wouldn't categorize myself as a feminist. All feminism is, to me, is the belief that women should be treated the same as men under the law, in the workplace, etc. Because let's face it, we're not the same. And vive le difference. Nor are we all equal. But it's true, that women will efface themselves endlessly, and defer to men, and set up tangled hierarchies based on secrets and that any sign of pride in one's accomplishments is typically met with cries of "Bitch", even from the women who claim to be "liberal" and "feminist." Look, I don't have any answer as to how to fix this. I don’t think it can be fixed, as long as there are people who are jealous and women continue to view each other as competition, and can't turn that off. I've noticed that (most) men can compete fiercely and then go out for a beer and leave the competition on the playing field or in the boardroom. Women pretend to do this, but often, praise is mined with subtle (and not-so-subtle) barbs and oblique insults. So women need to adopt some of these more "masculine" qualities as much as men need to adopt some "feminine" qualities (though god save me from "sensitive" men). As far as fic is concerned, I have to say, that this bitchifying of characters occurs in each fandom I've read fic in. Just now it's happening to Amy Gardner in West Wing. Especially amongst some Josh/Donna shippers. Now, I have decided that I don't like Amy, that she's using Josh, and that Josh looks like he's about to have "woot canaw" every time he's near her, so it's not going to last, but before Drunk Irish Writers, I was okay with Amy. She was confident, successful, ambitious and beautiful. *Of course*, a ton of J/D shippers hated her from the moment she showed up. And she's been written as a scheming, career-obsessed bitch, who is only using Josh to further her own agenda. It's not like Mandy - who was set up as a bitch on the show, and well, that *is* her character. I've been interrupted so often now that I can't even begin to tell if I said what I wanted to say here. I can't even remember, really, what my point was when I started. So I'll stop now. Go look at the LJ to see my new Smallville icons. Also, two things I need help on. If anyone knows how I get my banners to diaryland, so I can get some use out of this gold membership I paid for, email me please. And also, I have to submit a fic snip for the "awards ceremony" [who knew?] for the CBFFAs/CMFFAs - a snip that's representative of my work as a whole, and I'm struggling to pick one, because my gut choice is the ending of Catching Up, where Logan washes Rogue and then they have a very low-key chat, but it comes at the end of a sex farce that really is not a good story to send people to read, you know? This section is almost antithetical in tone and intent to the rest of the story. So I'm pondering other snips, and am willing to take suggestions. So drop me a note at either the guestbook, the comments in the LJ, or via email. Thankies. *g* Edited for clarification: I have not actually won anything, but apparently all the nominees for Movieverse Hall of Fame (or whatever it's called) are being asked to do this. ~victoria [current mood: hungover] [current music: Jeopardy theme music] [current mood: ] [current music: ] [random quote: ] ~*~ 2002-03-08 - 4:44 p.m. what every slasher should know I had to post this, even though I thought I was done posting for the day (at least the sober part of the day. Maybe I'll be awake enough at the end of the night to do some drunken writing. It's always a gas.). I found it in rumblelizard's diary and it's freaking hilarious, and very, very cool. From Salon: "We're Here, We're Queer, We're Penguins". Gay penguins. I love it! And, this is probably old news to most people, and I mean, I knew it was true, but I didn't realize how widespread it was: alternative sexuality in the animal kingdom. My favorite quote: "Bruce Bagemihl spent 10 years scouring the biological literature for data on alternative sexuality in animals to write "Biological Exuberance: Animal Homosexuality and Natural Diversity," 768 pages about exactly what goes on at "South Park's" Big Gay Al's Big Gay Animal Sanctuary." Hee! The HoYay Lives! Happy Friday! victoria [current mood: tickled pink *g*] [current music: Crazy - Aerosmith] [current mood: ] [current music: ] [random quote: ] ~*~ 2002-03-08 - 2:37 p.m. Success! Yes! Picked up the watches - they now work. Mom will be happy. Picked up the film - it was non-developable, so I didn't have to pay! Cool! Picked up the prescription, even as some guy tried to cut in front of me on line. Hello? Does the concept of "one line" mean nothing to you, bub? Then headed on down to City Sports and had to hang around and look at shoes while waiting to be waited on. Got Jean a pair of black high top Chucks. I'm like, "I'd like the black men's high top Cons" and the girl looked at me like, "huh?" (Edited to add: I just realized how that reads. It should be the men's hightops in black. However, the black men's hightops works in Jean's case, 'cause, well... *g* he is black. Well, in appearance anyway. He's Haitian, not African-American, and is one of the whitest black people ever, and I'm going to get in trouble with this if I continue so I'll stop now.) I guess they don't call 'em that anymore? And again, some jerk tried to cut me off, but the salesgirl set him straight. So now I am eating my cinnabon from Cinnabon, with *extra* frosting, mind you, because I'm in a good mood, and I deserve it! *snicker* Wait til I crash from the sugar high. Oy. But I'm riding it for now. Even have non-diet soda, free. It came with the pizza. And my colleague brought me two bags of peanut m&ms - apparently they were free as well. Repeat after me: If it's free, it's okay. If you have to pay, stay away. ~victoria [current mood: successful] [current music: Free Fallin' - Tom Petty] PS: If you're wondering what the hell I'm talking about, hie thee over to the LJ and read the "free pizza" entry. [current mood: ] [current music: ] [random quote: ] ~*~ 2002-03-08 - 10:44 a.m. invisibility and icons The Friday Five! 1. What makes you homesick? Not being able to get a good bagel or slice of pizza; talking to the kidlets on the phone when I'm traveling, missing out on something important to one of them. 2. Where is "home" for you? Is it where you are living now, or somewhere else (ie: Mom & Dad's house, particular state/city)? Well, until next week, I'll say Mom & Dad's house, even though I haven't lived there in years. But they're moving out of it next Friday, so I guess my apartment. New York City is my home, wherever I wind up. 3. What makes it home for you? People? Things? Both. Memories. Smells. My stuff. My people. Food I can't get elsewhere. 4. Where is the furthest you've been from home, miles-wise? Hmm. I don't know. I'm gonna guess San Francisco at 2920 miles. It's funny, because that's one of the few cities that felt like it could be home. DC, Baltimore and Boston are the others. SF felt like an east coast city, and I like that vibe. 5. What are your plans for this weekend? Get drunk, er, celebrate Jean's birthday, do laundry, maybe go to the Cloisters on Sunday. ~*~ I could rant about Netscape now, or, rather, people who don't design their sites to be Netscape compatible, sites which, in fact, keep crashing my Netscape, but I won't. Because while I'm feeling like I should get militant instead of mopey, I know such a rant will only make me more irritated. I've given up expecting technology to be what it says it is. It's a tool, no more no less, and like any tool, it sometimes doesn't work, even for jobs that are supposed to be no-brainers, like viewing websites with a web browser. ~*~ Answered no email last night. Made icons and chatted with Beth instead. Would feel guilty, except my Maleficent Goddess has absolved me of all sin, for the nonce. I'm hoping to get a little caught up this weekend, but we're drunkfesting it tonight for Jean's birthday (still need to buy him a gift) and I know I'll be sleeping it off tomorrow. I'm no longer 23 years old and able to shake off 6 hours of heavy alcohol consumption with 4 hours of sleep and two advil. I've decided I need to be militant instead of mopey. *g* I actually do feel more hopeful this morning, whether because of the beautiful weather, the prospect of drinking myself into silly oblivion, the fact that I spoke to someone about how I'm feelihng and she reassured me it will pass, or just the fact that it's Friday, I don't know. but I woke up feeling better. Maybe it was the dream about the tour of the porn movie studio and seeing porn stars mingling with family members that did it? *g* Something I noticed today, on the subway, is how we all seem to think we're alone and invisible in such a public place. This one picks her nose. That one adjusts his package. She's putting on her make up as if she were in the bathroom at home. I mouth the words along with my walkman. Those two over there snog like they haven't seen each other in years. And everyone else (mostly) acts as if they don't see any of it. It takes some truly outré behavior to get you noticed on the A train. In some ways it's very freeing. You're no one, but in the best sense of being no one, being a small cog in a very large machine, and all is right with the world. Sometimes I find my very insignificance a great comfort. Some things that irk me - when someone can't be bothered to look up a phone number in the company directory, but walks all the way down the hall to my cube to ask me to look it up and then, "Oh, could you call her and tell her I'm available for the conference call?" It bugs me sometimes that they give me these stupid shitty little things any three-year-old is capable of doing, but they do the other, bigger admin jobs themselves, when I'm perfectly capable and even willing to do. I mean, I *do* feel guilty sometimes for goofing off as much as I do at work, especially at what they're paying me. Not guilty enough to stop, though. *g* I wore dark purple lipstick this morning (no surprise. Every lipstick I buy winds up being the same dark purply color *g*) and as I wiped it off in the mirror in the bathroom, so I could eat my bagel (I so don't like lipstick marks on my food. Something so tacky and ill-mannered about it, as well as making me think I'm bleeding all over my food-- I mean, I'm a carnivore, I admit it. I just prefer not to look like I've just killed my bakery products, you know?) I was struck by the image of Rogue, still in her party makeup, hovering over Logan as Jean works on him, and Jean thinking, "I wonder what brand of lipstick she uses" because it's lasted through all this trauma and the big kiss and everything, and because, in an emergency, that's the kind of stupid thing that flits through my mind, and I've often written Jean as responding to emergencies the way I do - calm outside, and yet totally flying apart inside, but holding on until everything's taken care of to fall apart. In LWTUA, I had her pondering the paint job in her office as her world came apart, and it's one of the things I like about Jean, or about my portrayal of her. It makes her seem more real and less a cardboard cutout of the "ideal girlfriend" or "perfect woman" or whatever, which is often what I think she's supposed to be. At her inception, I think she was as much a symbolic character as, say, Catherine in Farewell to Arms, in that she represented whatever the writer(s) and male characters believed was the perfect (albeit kickass) woman. And I don't think she's ever shed that mantle, which is why so many of us have this negative reaction to her. I don't read the comics, and I'm sure some of her more ardent fans will correct me, and point out that she's just as flawed and human as the others, and maybe, in actual execution, she is. But in concept, and in the brief visit we got with her in the movie, she didn't come across that way to me. She was more like a stand-in for a character. She certainly had flaws (grr.. condescending much?) but I think she was supposed to represent an "ideal" woman, while Storm was more visibly flawed (e.g., she admitted to hating humans sometimes, which only makes me like her more, even if I thought Berry's performance was ... lacking, even with what little she was given to do. And seriously, who *ever* thought the words "Oscar-nominated" would be used to describe *Halle Berry*?), and thus more relateable. Hmm... I don't even know where I started out, but I know I wandered pretty far afield. *g* That's what happens when I have time to ramble. I just start and who knows where I'll end up. Oh yeah, the image of Rogue in Consumption. I think some of it is also based on the Evo!Rogue icon I made (which you can see here, and while I'm on the subject of icons i made, look at this one. Don't you just want to take him home and make him do naughty things?) - with that gothy makeup and the short hair. And see, I tied it all back to what I discussed earlier, I see as I scroll upwards... I came full circle. God, I'm good. *g* ::preens:: ~victoria [current mood: smug] [current music: How You Remind Me - Nickelback] [current mood: ] [current music: ] [random quote: ] ~*~ 2002-03-07 - 4:50 p.m. two views of fandom Quickly. *g* 33 days. Yeah - definitely explains a lot. Read Seema's Stages of Fandom. Much truth there. And for a different take on meta, as well as a shining example of sheer cussedness, read Devil Doll's LJ entry, Fandom is a Candy Jar. Also, marvel at her Hamburger Man icon. "Your insolence is disturbing." heh. random lyrics for this afternoon: a little out of touch, a little insane, it's just easier than dealing with the pain, just a madman laughing at the rain, with a ticket for a runaway train yes, I know it's actually "in pain", but my way makes more sense. Take that Dave Pirner. Ha! From the same song, I also like "I promised myself I wouldn't weep / that's one more promise I couldn't keep / it seems no one can help me now / I'm in too deep / there's no way out" Which for some reason makes me think of: I know you've been waiting for words that I ain't spoken / tonight we'll be free / all the promises will be broken / there were ghosts in the eyes of all the boys you sent away / They haunt this dusty beach road / In the skeleton frames of burned out Chevrolets / They scream your name at night in the street / Your graduation gown lies in rags at their feet / And in the lonely cool before dawn / You hear their engines roaring on / But when you get to the porch they're gone / down the road, so Mary climb in / It's a town full of losers / And I'm pulling out of here to win. This drive by post brought to you by the letter Z and the number 2. ~victoria [current mood: ] [current music: ] [random quote: ] ~*~ 2002-03-07 - 2:20 p.m. my funk is spunky Okay, just scarfed down a turkey/bacon sandwich and I'm now eating a slice of lemon poppyseed cake, and I have the shakes like you wouldn't believe. I don't know what it is. I'm hoping digestion and the release of some glucose into my system will stop it. I've also got that chocolate bar, which I've put in the little fridge to chill, for emergency use this afternoon. I think I'm going to need it. I spent half an hour earlier talking my brother's ear off - it's okay, though, he's in the field *g* (he's in administration now, but he spent many years as a substance abuse counseor in an MMTP. Not that I'm on heroin, or anything. Though I *am* heroin, according to that "What Drug Are You?" quiz. *g* I'm just having yet more anxiety, though still no panic attacks. Woohoo! Go paxil!) starting with Maslow's hierarchy of needs (I couldn't remember 'Maslow' - last night at 2am I kept going, "Abraham.... What? What is this guy's last name? And why am I not self-actualized?") and on through all my current anxieties. I mean, I think I aced 1, 2, 5 and 6, but 4 and 3 still elude me. See, I had to write this thing for the shrink, and I didn't do it, and I'm seeing her tonight, so... yeah. Well, I didn't *have* to do it, but she suggested I do it, and that writing it might help with my writer's block and other things, and I think it might have. No one else will ever see it, though. At least, not this version. Eventually, an edited version may make its way into this space, depending on how I feel. Yeah, even when doing unconscious writing exercises, I think too much. *g* On a different note, it's a beautiful day out. I went out to drop off a roll of film from god knows when. Daddy found it buried in a closet or something while they were cleaning out. Speaking of which, apparently the neighbor guy who wanted to buy the house has come through with the financing, so M&D are waiting to hear from the lawyer about when they'll close on it. Which has got to be a huge weight off them, since they won't have to carry a mortgage now. They'll just turn around and pay for the new house with the money from this sale. I think I'll start to settle down after the whole thing is over. And after I get my period. Definitely PMSing something fierce right now, which is another reason my funk is so spunky. It keeps coming back even though I think I've got it beat. And yes, I realize I switched it around. That's why it's funny. Sheesh. *g* Happiness is a Dr. Brown's diet cream soda. At least, I think that's as close to happiness as I'm getting right now. ~victoria [current mood: jittery] [current music: Buena by Morphine, in my head] [current mood: ] [current music: ] [random quote: ] ~*~ 2002-03-07 - 10:18 a.m. apathetic, yet worried... Many, many thoughts swirling, chief among them is this: I know how I feel right now isn't right. Not in any moral sense of right="good" (though I certainly don't feel good, or well, either physically, emotionally or mentally right now). I mean right as in, "How I'm supposed to feel, how it feels to be *me*." If that makes sense. I've always been fairly apathetic about many things I should probably care about. That's not the part that worries me. It's my current indifference to stuff that a month or two ago would have had me excited and giddy and just...giggly like a slasher at an *NSync (as I learned from Ins's journal yesterday. Who knew? I'm also tempted to ask, Who cares? but that would be rude, since there are many, many [and that's my overused word for the day- many] people who apparently do) concert. And now I'm just bleh. I know a lot of it has to do with the upcoming move. I mean, Friday night is Jean's birthday drunkfest, and not only have I not gotten him a present yet, I'm not excited about it. It seems like a big old hassle to get there and to get home. Plus the money I'm going to have to spend, which could be banked so I can afford all the stuff I'm going to have to start paying for once the parents move. And there it is - everything ties back to that, right now. Plus, some of it is a hangover from the diary contretemps a while back, and probably simple brain fatigue, compounded by disappointment in Buffy etc., which has sapped my creative energy. And then all this fascinating meta discussion, which takes time away from writing and reading fic... Seema writes about the sudden proliferation of meta discussion in fandom - across fandom lines -- and asks: But I also wonder if all of this meta talk also keeps us from what we do best - reading and writing (and of course, feedbacking) fanfic? And I think for me (and really, who else matters?), it *does* interfere with the writing and reading of fic. Because instead of plotting how best to get the Blackbird back to Westchester in Consumption and going about the second half of the story, I spend my commute and my before-sleep thinking time on meta stuff, like why people write they types of stories they write, or why people do or don't send feedback, or if there's ever a resurgence of that first burst of innocent fannish excitement, or if I'm ever going to get my writing drive back? And for someone who so strongly self-identifies as a writer - and always has (go read my poetry and look at some of the dates... on second thought, don't. *g* I mean, look at the dates, and the pretty graphics set I used [which looks best in 1024x768 and absolutely awful in 800x600) but don't actually read any of the poetry. Or if you do, read only "Muse" and "true dream"] I do have an entry about poetry up my sleeve, and my poetry in particular and why I think I stopped writing it, but that's for another time) - the idea that I've burned out and can't bear to even look at some of my WsIP, disturbs me on levels you can't even imagine. Let's not even get into what this does to my plans for trying some original character fiction. Anyhow, I know that this too shall pass, and since I'm still opening files and attempting some semblance of putting words on paper (or on screen, as it were), I'm trying very hard to not make this a self-fulfilling prophecy, you know? I mean, there was a time a few years ago when I thought my sex drive had deserted me, and *that* was exceptionally worrisome, but it came back, and I'll stop this line of thought before it gets into TMI (as though it hasn't already <*snerk*>). And I've lost the train of thought after the whole "sex drive" thing, so I shall stop here, I guess. Maybe more later... If you want an entry less filled with existential angst, check out the LiveJournal ~victoria [current mood: apathetic, yet worried] [current music: KC Jones or whatever it's called - Grateful Dead, which seems oddly apt for my mood, actually] PS: I hate Netscape sometimes. Stupid quotation marks. [current mood: ] [current music: ] [random quote: ] ~*~ 2002-03-06 - 11:33 p.m. small Dead Irish Writers musings You know, Hive Mind is all very interesting, until it happens to you. Rassinfrassin collective unconscious. Someone just posted a fic that has some very similar plot points to the one I'm working on. Grrr... I've had this fic on the backburner since the summer, too. ::bangs head against wall:: In other news, I can now honestly say I don't like Amy Gardner. I was willing to put up with her, because I thought she was pretty kickass, but going behind Josh's back and over his head is just ishy. I mean, yeah, it's her job. I agree with that. But as his girlfriend, she should have warned him she was going to speak with Abbey. I'm thinking she's the jackass there, even if his "I forgive you" was worthy of being smacked upside the head. Donna looked too thin, I thought. She had stick figure arms. It was great to see Lord John Marbury again, and CJ was amazing, as always. ::vic dons her pimp hat:: There's a new article up at Easter Egg Vinegar In Your Eye, listing some fic recs for rare and unusual pairings. Check it out! ~victoria [current mood: irritated and PMSing] [current mood: ] [current music: ] [random quote: ] ~*~ 2002-03-06 - 2:12 p.m. a matter of taste Hee! Found this article while trawling through Melymbrosia's friends page. I think that person originally got it from Suela's blog. Anyhow, it really is all a matter of taste eventually. I love this guy's attitude; he's right. And I quote: Pleasure is where you find it. It's better to like what you like and then change your mind than to let some culture maven scare you into never liking anything that does not have some official coolness quotient. ... Life is too short to hate what you like. Meg was talking about this the other day - things you know are true, but you never apply them to your own life, and then they *thwap* you upside the head, and you realize, "Hey! That's right! And it fits me, too." Except, of course, that as hard as I try, I can't shake the belief that my taste actually is better than everyone else's, and that if people would just listen to me, we'd all be spared certain horrors of fashion, television and movies. <*snerk*> In other news, I've infected a couple people with the icon bug, so you might be seeing new LJ icons from a few people. *g* It's an insidious and tenacious bug, it is. Random existential question of the day: How come the phone always rings at the worst possible moment (i.e., in the bathroom, just took a mouthful of food or beverage, etc.)? And, just so you know, I did open Consumption this morning, and Rogue's trying to assimilate Logan's memories, Jean's trying to treat Logan as he's in bad, bad shape, and I'm stuck. I got nothing. So I've decided, while I'm waiting for that story to kick in again, to work on this one: Working title: Dreams In Red Rogue remembered her first sight of Steve. He was lanky, and he moved with a surety that reminded her of Logan, when she thought about it later. He kept his head shaved and wore a little beard, and he had the brightest blue eyes she'd ever seen. His eyes were what drew her to him at first. They seemed to sparkle with a mischief that called to something in her, something that had been buried deep by the trauma of dying and coming back to life, complete with Logan's and Erik's memories in her head. He sat next to her at dinner the first time about a week after his arrival in Westchester. She was yet again getting over Logan's departure. After Logan's return from Canada a year after he'd left her, dog tags in hand, he'd settled in at the mansion for a while. He watched over her and she pined for him quietly, never letting any other men close enough to touch her heart, though many had tried. She knew he thought of her as a scared seventeen-year-old who had turned gratitude into an infatuation, and never allowed herself to believe he could return her feelings. He came and went as he pleased, always searching for bits and pieces of his shattered past, occasionally finding something, only to hit another dead end. He fought on the team and helped train the students. It was a good life, simple, and Rogue knew he liked it that way, so when the opportunity presented itself to fall in love with someone else, she took it. Perhaps it wasn't the most romantic thing in the world; she thought sometimes she was being punished for the calculating way she set about catching Steve. She could have had Remy -- probably should have, looking back. But looking back was useless. It wouldn't change the situation she was in now. She knew that. She used every flirtatious trick she'd picked up from three years of watching Jean wrap the men of the mansion around her little finger, and Steve never stood a chance. She didn't know until much, much later that he'd targeted her in the same way. Their first date had been a rousing success, his confidence in his mutation overcoming her fear of being touched. He'd kissed her, and she was lost. He could give her everything she'd ever dreamed, or so she'd thought, because he could give her touch. A year to the day after that kiss, he proposed and she accepted. *** It's not a proper Logan/Rogue fic, and if I do it right, it'll be angsty as all hell (kinda funny, considering my posts the past few days, eh?), but it seems to be itching at me, where nothing else is, right now, not even that little Rogue/Warren/Logan snippet that has some possibilities. So, wish me luck on the writing. I for sure need it lately. Gonna eat my fried chicken now. ~victoria [current mood: hungry] [current music: Suzanne - Lou Reed] [current mood: ] [current music: ] [random quote: ] ~*~ 2002-03-06 - 9:52 a.m. "I only miss you when I see you" Whew, I feel somehow lighter. I just unsubbed from about 12 Yahoogroups that I no longer participate or even lurk in. I'm thinking I better start the distancing process, since who knows when Yahell is going to pull the trigger on these changes they're threatening. Taking away the archives is just *wrong*. It's *evil*. I mean, that's a lot of hard work and stuff (along with a lot of shit, admittedly) to just delete. Of course, I'm a packrat by nature, and I hate throwing anything away, even if I'm never going to use/read/watch/wear it again. Which you could tell if you saw my apartment. *g* Even in clearing out the parents' basement, there were some totally worthless things that gave me a pang to see tossed out. Me (incredulously): You're throwing this out? Mom: It hasn't worked since 1983. It's just gathering dust. Me (sputtering): But... But... Mom: You never even thought about it until just now. Me: Sigh. And that's something else I tend to notice about myself. I only miss things when I see them again. Stay with me here. I tend to be rather "out of sight, out of mind" about a lot of stuff, but then I see it again (and, unfortunately, this sometimes goes for people, too), and think, "Oh, how I've missed you!" and hug it to me (metaphorically, usually *g*) and it becomes my favorite shirt or whatever for a few days, then I forget about it again. With people, it's worse. I'll go months without seeing one friend or another, then we'll hang out and I'll think, "God, I really love hanging out with her. Why don't I do it more often?" And I'll try to be good and keep up, but since I've given up talking on the phone to all but my family and one or two friends who don't have email (and let me tell you, if you had a job where you had to spend 8 hours a day on the phone trying to convince people to do something they didn't want to do, with a stupid 23year old manager hanging over your shoulder, you wouldn't want to talk on the phone ever again either. Thank god I left that job. I am *so* not a salesperson), I invariably fall behind, until I decide to shoot off an apologetic email about not keeping in touch, and the whole cycle starts again. The good thing about most of the friends who've hung on and not been offended by this is that they do the same thing, so it's okay. We all understand. *g* If it weren't for email, I'd have no friends left, I know that's the truth. And also, there was a great article a couple years ago in the New York Times Magazine about how cancelling plans was the sign of close friendship in New York. And god knows, my friends and I have all gone 'round on that "Sorry, can't make it" thing, and it's okay. Because we all understand. Apparently, in other parts of the country, this is considered rude. And with that as a segue, let me direct you to Rache's LiveJournal, which has a very interesting extrapolation of the BNF discussion and how it may be a gender specific phenomenon that "big name fan" or what have you has become a derogative. ~victoria [current mood: like a weight's been lifted from my shoulders] [current music: Love Her Madly - The Doors] [current mood: ] [current music: ] [random quote: ] ~*~ previous - next DiaryLand Disclaimer: Reading this diary is not required by law. If you do not like or agree with the contents herein, or find them to be offensive on more than one occasion, please go elsewhere and don't come back. Management is not responsible for any adverse reactions to content within. The painting is "Boreas" by John William Waterhouse. Again, not a muse, but I like her. She suits the color scheme. The quote is from Sir Philip Sidney. This site is best viewed with IE4+ | 1024x768 | true color | verdana | tables