![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
reenkagack. livejournal kind of scares me sometimes. well, just all the noise. like, it's sort of quiet in my head. well, it's quiet, except for b & j's occasional moans, the whimpers of discontent from all the people/things/ideas i'm forgetting, and the grumblings of my conscience. so i guess that makes it a ruckus. but then i go and read my friends page after a day, and i can only imagine what it'd look like after 3 days. or 5 days. not that i've missed that much. or -done- that much. gar. suckage.
every few months, i get to the point where i feel like if i analyze any more hp or read any more h/d fic, i'll burst. not in the good way. or maybe it really is that brian & justin have eaten my brain-- though now i'm done with seasons 1 & 2, which leaves me high and dry and with fic commitments. woe.
they're new and shiny, after all. and they're not fanfic. yeay! it's really sad when tv is like, closer to the real world than you feel you get, usually, isn't it? ahahaha. gahd. i tried reading one qaf fanfic today, randomly. oh my -gahd-, i didn't realize that anyone could write that badly without killing themselves in frustration. hee. some people, of course, don't care. that's not a bad thing. it's good not to care. it's not like there's a quiz later, or anything.
i want to always make sense, to communicate, to translate thought into meaning. i probably shouldn't tie my ability to do that with some sort of ultimate worthiness, or something. but once i become too aware of an audience, i get all nervous and distressed, 'cause well-- there's this imaginary pressure to perform. as long as no one cares, it's easy to do well. usually, i don't control what i say, or care what the reception is. sometimes i have a point, and sometimes i'm just speaking because it's so quiet that it hurts, because i can't stop. and it seems once i say one thing, i think of something else to contradict it.
i like certainty, and hate it at the same time. i find funny, inconsequential things to be certain about, like the emotional state of fictional characters. almost never myself. i think "brian loves justin" matters more, on some level, than "reena loves __", although that could be just because of self-image.
i think when -i- care, it's all so uncertain and scary and impossible, and i'm almost always sure i'm being stupid somehow, overstepping some boundary, misjudging and misinterpreting and reading too much into things, because i do that all the time. but i can say with absolute confidence and certainty, "brian loves justin", and it makes me happy because no matter what -happens-, the emotions are so clear. there's no imbalance, really. there's no feeling stupid, no embarrassment (for me), nothing but the sort of calm knowledge that always flies away in reality as soon as you touch it.
the problem is, i don't just like or dislike things/people a -little-, usually, if i care at all. i mean, if i know the first thing about them beyond a vague impression, anyway. love is too easy. imaginary love that's not your own has boundaries, defined direction, a traceable pathway. your own love sort of rips right through you, making you bend to its will, knocking your nose against everything you feared and thought you couldn't live without.
i sometimes feel jealous of all the close ties people form with other people online, but i'd made those too, at one point. but actually doing it is so frightening. being understood. that sort of dead-end vulnerability, where you're still stuck in a glass prison, but you can see all around you, people reaching out and smiling at you, and it's almost like they were there. almost. but never really there.
i think i just need to remember that for all my somewhat wide communication, i'm still hoarding myself, holding that distance, feeling like the distance is holding me. one day, i should re-write rapunzel to have her be in a glass tower.
~~
the vines grow all around the glass stones, poisonous flowers with long, beautiful thorns. there are ravens and carrion birds flying outside the window, and she keeps trying to sew a single tapestry, coming close to finishing and then starting over again, always dissatisfied. she never cries, never answers the prince. she listens to him sing every day, feeling like she knows him, feeling so close to him she imagines she knows what his eye-color is even though she cannot see it from so high up, imagines she knows what he smells like-- honeysuckle with a hint of lemon.
she can see out, but of all the princes, only a very few have been able to see in. the few that have, didn't quite believe their eyes, and wandered away eventually, having touched the thorns gingerly with their lily-white fingers and winced. she loved the ones that laughed, didn't seem sad at all, the ones that leaned against the glass wall and had their lunch, singing silly songs and smiling like there was nowhere else they had to be. she has dreams of letting her hair down, letting it swing freely from the window, but that seems rather ridiculous and would involve a lot of pain. it hurts to pull at her hair, and she couldn't even imagine how it would hurt to have someone else pull at it with their whole body. she thinks she might die. she thinks she might die if she never tries, too.
eventually, she starts to tell herself tales-- what would happen if. what if she had said that to the blond, taciturn one with the wide-brimmed hat. what if she'd screamed loud enough to crack the glass. what if she'd said, "yes, here i am, and if you want me you wouldn't mind falling." eventually, she starts to tell them aloud, not looking down to check which of the princes was listening that day.
when she looked, what she saw wasn't a prince at all. there was a girl with long blonde hair the same burnished gold as her own, staring back at her from the garden. she couldn't see her eyes, and then, when she'd finished this last tale, the girl turned around and walked away. there was another tale, telling of the girl's adventures, the tower she'd left behind, the wide world she was beginning to realize she could never see enough of. she saw herself walking away, leaving only the story behind. she saw herself finding the prince beyond the next horizon, and the next after that, and none of them were the one she was looking for. and then she knew she'd see herself stop looking, and cut her long golden hair, burying it under a large, whispery oak tree by the river. and by that tree the story ended, and another one began.
~~
anyway: shower meme - meaning, i answer![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
wankersore's interview questions and you get to ask me to interview -you-. though why you'd want to remains a mystery. heh.
- If I dropped by randomly someday and told you to pack five things, clothes and toiletries not among them, because you had to come with me, and I wouldn't tell you where we were going or how long we'd be gone, what five things would you take?
i'd take my copy of `the forgotten beasts of eld' by patricia mckillip, since i need it for comfort. i would be tempted to take my framed poster-print of harry & draco & the snitch, hee-- or my plush!harry-- it's a tough call. my notebook for writing and drawing in. my trusty backpack-- even if nothing's in it, it makes me feel like a person. it used to be that i was really attached to my silver ankh pendant and almost drew my identity from it, but now that's gone, so... tori's `little earthquakes', 'cause it comforts me and if i had only one cd with me that'd be it. alternatively, whatever book i'm reading at the time, since i tend to attach to them like babies to pacifiers -.-
- What was your favourite dress when you were a child?
i had several. before i was six, i had this little silk slip of a thing, sleeveless red with yellowish flowers, and a little lace-up jacket with short sleeves worn over it. god, i adored the lace-up jacket part, 'cause it made me feel like a princess-- and of course later it got lost and i grew out of it and became ungainly and not six anymore. woe. and then i had this silk blue dress-- it was simple, but silk, and really dark, heavy indigo with silver/grey stripes. it was a classic dress with bell sleeves and a simple round neckline, but the color was my favorite in the world back then. and silk! smooth! shiny! hee!
- Who is your least favourite Harry Potter character and why?
well, it's not ginny, 'cause i've made my peace with her. i kind of like ron (well, my idea of ron-- most people don't write my kind of ron, except probably silvia, eheheheh and goddamnitalltohell, silvia should write epics. maybe if we all chipped in and paid her like, $5,000,000.... no? well, just a thought.). i think dumbledore is cute. wormtail doesn't inspire much passion. lucius. i don't really like lucius. like, at all.
i don't have any particular taste for tinny evil. like, he's a james bond villain gone wrong. he really is. the cane? the hair? the overblown ego? he's a two-bit bad guy without the potential that draco has due to his youth and impulsiveness. he's comfortable with his choices, and he doesn't really seem to -have- loyalty or passion except power. i'm disgruntled with the way 97% of people write him as either sad and misunderstood, darkly evil and enigmatically cruel or a petty maniacal monster who hurt widdle dwako.
all in all, i don't think you can retain the original kernel of character and make him worthy of a starring role. he just kind of depresses and distresses me, i guess, and it's not helped by the way he's mostly interpreted as an object of either lust or hatred.
- What's the dumbest song you like?
hee. no clue. i like -so- many songs, and so many of them are dumb. a lot of 80s songs, probably. anything by paula abdul or madonna or michael jackson, right. i don't really even remember some of the awful stuff on the radio that i didn't hate. pink's `get the party started' is pretty damn dumb, isn't it? well, i can't get enough of it, ahahahaha. ah, the now-not-so-secret shame! seriously, it makes me want to like, strip-dance to it, and trust me, no one wants to see that. hee. republica's `ready to go' ain't brilliant either, and i'm obsessed with it, 'cause of the recent `queer as folk' video. mmmmmmmmmmm. yes. and may i say, yes? and yes.
- If you were going to relocate to another fandom, which fandom would that be, and why?
tempted to say `queer as folk' because it's got... you know... The Hotness Factor. hee. and that's not likely to go away, but. truth is, i don't like being in a "fandom"... it's not really entirely natural. at least, i've never been in one before hp. i have obsessions, but they're solitary ones, mostly. i don't need to be active on any mailing lists or argue qaf semantics or defend brian/justin against the hordes of unbelievers (or something). the fanfic seems extraneous, the people i've seen on message boards seem rather average or below it. it's not what you'd call a thinking man's fandom, and that's okay.
nah, when i'm gone, i'm well and truly gone, i guess. as to why qaf, even though i wouldn't-- well-- i'm obsessed at the moment. and it's very rare that i find both the people in my favorite pairing in a fandom this hot. or at all hot. witness my utter lack of attraction, mentally or physically, to say-- qui gon, tom paris, duncan, clark kent. so i'm all happy to be interested in two characters at once. woo! er. yah. but not. just back to casually reading fantasy paperbacks for me, i guess. not so bad, really. and wow, this was long, rambly, and pointless -.-
every few months, i get to the point where i feel like if i analyze any more hp or read any more h/d fic, i'll burst. not in the good way. or maybe it really is that brian & justin have eaten my brain-- though now i'm done with seasons 1 & 2, which leaves me high and dry and with fic commitments. woe.
they're new and shiny, after all. and they're not fanfic. yeay! it's really sad when tv is like, closer to the real world than you feel you get, usually, isn't it? ahahaha. gahd. i tried reading one qaf fanfic today, randomly. oh my -gahd-, i didn't realize that anyone could write that badly without killing themselves in frustration. hee. some people, of course, don't care. that's not a bad thing. it's good not to care. it's not like there's a quiz later, or anything.
i want to always make sense, to communicate, to translate thought into meaning. i probably shouldn't tie my ability to do that with some sort of ultimate worthiness, or something. but once i become too aware of an audience, i get all nervous and distressed, 'cause well-- there's this imaginary pressure to perform. as long as no one cares, it's easy to do well. usually, i don't control what i say, or care what the reception is. sometimes i have a point, and sometimes i'm just speaking because it's so quiet that it hurts, because i can't stop. and it seems once i say one thing, i think of something else to contradict it.
i like certainty, and hate it at the same time. i find funny, inconsequential things to be certain about, like the emotional state of fictional characters. almost never myself. i think "brian loves justin" matters more, on some level, than "reena loves __", although that could be just because of self-image.
i think when -i- care, it's all so uncertain and scary and impossible, and i'm almost always sure i'm being stupid somehow, overstepping some boundary, misjudging and misinterpreting and reading too much into things, because i do that all the time. but i can say with absolute confidence and certainty, "brian loves justin", and it makes me happy because no matter what -happens-, the emotions are so clear. there's no imbalance, really. there's no feeling stupid, no embarrassment (for me), nothing but the sort of calm knowledge that always flies away in reality as soon as you touch it.
the problem is, i don't just like or dislike things/people a -little-, usually, if i care at all. i mean, if i know the first thing about them beyond a vague impression, anyway. love is too easy. imaginary love that's not your own has boundaries, defined direction, a traceable pathway. your own love sort of rips right through you, making you bend to its will, knocking your nose against everything you feared and thought you couldn't live without.
i sometimes feel jealous of all the close ties people form with other people online, but i'd made those too, at one point. but actually doing it is so frightening. being understood. that sort of dead-end vulnerability, where you're still stuck in a glass prison, but you can see all around you, people reaching out and smiling at you, and it's almost like they were there. almost. but never really there.
i think i just need to remember that for all my somewhat wide communication, i'm still hoarding myself, holding that distance, feeling like the distance is holding me. one day, i should re-write rapunzel to have her be in a glass tower.
~~
the vines grow all around the glass stones, poisonous flowers with long, beautiful thorns. there are ravens and carrion birds flying outside the window, and she keeps trying to sew a single tapestry, coming close to finishing and then starting over again, always dissatisfied. she never cries, never answers the prince. she listens to him sing every day, feeling like she knows him, feeling so close to him she imagines she knows what his eye-color is even though she cannot see it from so high up, imagines she knows what he smells like-- honeysuckle with a hint of lemon.
she can see out, but of all the princes, only a very few have been able to see in. the few that have, didn't quite believe their eyes, and wandered away eventually, having touched the thorns gingerly with their lily-white fingers and winced. she loved the ones that laughed, didn't seem sad at all, the ones that leaned against the glass wall and had their lunch, singing silly songs and smiling like there was nowhere else they had to be. she has dreams of letting her hair down, letting it swing freely from the window, but that seems rather ridiculous and would involve a lot of pain. it hurts to pull at her hair, and she couldn't even imagine how it would hurt to have someone else pull at it with their whole body. she thinks she might die. she thinks she might die if she never tries, too.
eventually, she starts to tell herself tales-- what would happen if. what if she had said that to the blond, taciturn one with the wide-brimmed hat. what if she'd screamed loud enough to crack the glass. what if she'd said, "yes, here i am, and if you want me you wouldn't mind falling." eventually, she starts to tell them aloud, not looking down to check which of the princes was listening that day.
when she looked, what she saw wasn't a prince at all. there was a girl with long blonde hair the same burnished gold as her own, staring back at her from the garden. she couldn't see her eyes, and then, when she'd finished this last tale, the girl turned around and walked away. there was another tale, telling of the girl's adventures, the tower she'd left behind, the wide world she was beginning to realize she could never see enough of. she saw herself walking away, leaving only the story behind. she saw herself finding the prince beyond the next horizon, and the next after that, and none of them were the one she was looking for. and then she knew she'd see herself stop looking, and cut her long golden hair, burying it under a large, whispery oak tree by the river. and by that tree the story ended, and another one began.
~~
anyway: shower meme - meaning, i answer
wankersore's interview questions and you get to ask me to interview -you-. though why you'd want to remains a mystery. heh.- If I dropped by randomly someday and told you to pack five things, clothes and toiletries not among them, because you had to come with me, and I wouldn't tell you where we were going or how long we'd be gone, what five things would you take?
i'd take my copy of `the forgotten beasts of eld' by patricia mckillip, since i need it for comfort. i would be tempted to take my framed poster-print of harry & draco & the snitch, hee-- or my plush!harry-- it's a tough call. my notebook for writing and drawing in. my trusty backpack-- even if nothing's in it, it makes me feel like a person. it used to be that i was really attached to my silver ankh pendant and almost drew my identity from it, but now that's gone, so... tori's `little earthquakes', 'cause it comforts me and if i had only one cd with me that'd be it. alternatively, whatever book i'm reading at the time, since i tend to attach to them like babies to pacifiers -.-
- What was your favourite dress when you were a child?
i had several. before i was six, i had this little silk slip of a thing, sleeveless red with yellowish flowers, and a little lace-up jacket with short sleeves worn over it. god, i adored the lace-up jacket part, 'cause it made me feel like a princess-- and of course later it got lost and i grew out of it and became ungainly and not six anymore. woe. and then i had this silk blue dress-- it was simple, but silk, and really dark, heavy indigo with silver/grey stripes. it was a classic dress with bell sleeves and a simple round neckline, but the color was my favorite in the world back then. and silk! smooth! shiny! hee!
- Who is your least favourite Harry Potter character and why?
well, it's not ginny, 'cause i've made my peace with her. i kind of like ron (well, my idea of ron-- most people don't write my kind of ron, except probably silvia, eheheheh and goddamnitalltohell, silvia should write epics. maybe if we all chipped in and paid her like, $5,000,000.... no? well, just a thought.). i think dumbledore is cute. wormtail doesn't inspire much passion. lucius. i don't really like lucius. like, at all.
i don't have any particular taste for tinny evil. like, he's a james bond villain gone wrong. he really is. the cane? the hair? the overblown ego? he's a two-bit bad guy without the potential that draco has due to his youth and impulsiveness. he's comfortable with his choices, and he doesn't really seem to -have- loyalty or passion except power. i'm disgruntled with the way 97% of people write him as either sad and misunderstood, darkly evil and enigmatically cruel or a petty maniacal monster who hurt widdle dwako.
all in all, i don't think you can retain the original kernel of character and make him worthy of a starring role. he just kind of depresses and distresses me, i guess, and it's not helped by the way he's mostly interpreted as an object of either lust or hatred.
- What's the dumbest song you like?
hee. no clue. i like -so- many songs, and so many of them are dumb. a lot of 80s songs, probably. anything by paula abdul or madonna or michael jackson, right. i don't really even remember some of the awful stuff on the radio that i didn't hate. pink's `get the party started' is pretty damn dumb, isn't it? well, i can't get enough of it, ahahahaha. ah, the now-not-so-secret shame! seriously, it makes me want to like, strip-dance to it, and trust me, no one wants to see that. hee. republica's `ready to go' ain't brilliant either, and i'm obsessed with it, 'cause of the recent `queer as folk' video. mmmmmmmmmmm. yes. and may i say, yes? and yes.
- If you were going to relocate to another fandom, which fandom would that be, and why?
tempted to say `queer as folk' because it's got... you know... The Hotness Factor. hee. and that's not likely to go away, but. truth is, i don't like being in a "fandom"... it's not really entirely natural. at least, i've never been in one before hp. i have obsessions, but they're solitary ones, mostly. i don't need to be active on any mailing lists or argue qaf semantics or defend brian/justin against the hordes of unbelievers (or something). the fanfic seems extraneous, the people i've seen on message boards seem rather average or below it. it's not what you'd call a thinking man's fandom, and that's okay.
nah, when i'm gone, i'm well and truly gone, i guess. as to why qaf, even though i wouldn't-- well-- i'm obsessed at the moment. and it's very rare that i find both the people in my favorite pairing in a fandom this hot. or at all hot. witness my utter lack of attraction, mentally or physically, to say-- qui gon, tom paris, duncan, clark kent. so i'm all happy to be interested in two characters at once. woo! er. yah. but not. just back to casually reading fantasy paperbacks for me, i guess. not so bad, really. and wow, this was long, rambly, and pointless -.-
