Lee (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
inlovewithwords) wrote2013-01-31 11:01 pm
inlovewithwords) wrote2013-01-31 11:01 pm
Entry tags:
My name is...
My name is Lee, and this is my life.
(This is why I shouldn’t throw myself whole-heartedly into fandom: I pick up syntax. Once, when I was young, I watched the horrific old BBC versions of Narnia—yes, buck-toothed Lucy. My mother insists I spoke in a British accent for weeks. I’ll stop after this one, promise. Okay, realistically, probably not. But I’ll try.)
This idea has been kicking around in my head for a long time, actually. Probably four to six months at least, I’d say. Thing is, I haven’t had much impetus to do journaling the last three years or so. I would say ‘I never had much’ except that I ended up going through the old posts, and turns out I did used to do posts. Regularly, and on some days quite prolifically. Generally revisiting the glaring inconsistencies of those days is uncomfortable at best, frankly—which is a topic for another day.
‘But Lee,’ you ask, with admirable patience, ‘if you’re so inconsistent and didn’t ever act on this idea before, why now?’
So I had no real reason to put myself through the effort of doing all this, despite my frequent feelings of ‘Oh god I want somewhere to just shout [insert feeling/thought/irritation here] at somewhere, possibly the internet as the universe-which-might-hear.’ But on the one hand, that is very sound-bite-like and I despise that entire approach to internet socialization more than I can say. On the other, god I need to snarl sometimes. On the first hand again: I’m also verbose (had you noticed?) and would end up typing long rants, possibly ones I’d regret if I didn’t have an edit/must-review-this-before-posting function. (Not to mention that I’d spend all my time compulsively refreshing/reading everything if I tried most of the ‘social media’ or whatever.)
The only ‘social media’ thing I have is aFailFacebook account. I have the thing exclusively as an easy contact for anyone from The Dread Past Of High School to get in touch with me, and sometimes good things come through (notifications about some singing events with people in my singing groups, etc). The only other thing I really use it for is announcing when I’m going to be visiting some city I don’t live in. I figure that if anyone sees it and wants to act on it, I might get a message about “Hey, we should do coffee or lunch or something!”
This strategy has worked a time or two, and did while I was visiting my father’s. A friend from middle school replied to my in-town announcement with ‘Oh, let’s do lunch!’ So we did. It was actually really lovely. I am in no way nostalgic about being at that school, ugh, but she was one of the friends I actually had (even if we were more distant even in high school, but that’s another story).
‘But Lee,’ you repeat in exasperation, ‘why now? This has nothing to do with it!’
I thought to myself that it was a bit of a pity that I can’t handle FB, because I’d like to keep in touch with her better. She wasn’t the only person I thought about with that, though. While at my father’s, I stumbled across an old journal, almost all its pages blank, in the handwriting of a friend. I hadn’t talked to her in years, and I was hit with a pang of loneliness and missing her stronger than usual. I thought about her several times over those few weeks, and even since returning home.
‘LEE,’ you interject, having reached the end of that truly admirable patience, ‘WHAT IS YOUR POINT?’
The point is I am telepathic and precognitive. There are even days I’m not sure if that’s facetious or not.
Stay tuned for more tomorrow.
(This is why I shouldn’t throw myself whole-heartedly into fandom: I pick up syntax. Once, when I was young, I watched the horrific old BBC versions of Narnia—yes, buck-toothed Lucy. My mother insists I spoke in a British accent for weeks. I’ll stop after this one, promise. Okay, realistically, probably not. But I’ll try.)
This idea has been kicking around in my head for a long time, actually. Probably four to six months at least, I’d say. Thing is, I haven’t had much impetus to do journaling the last three years or so. I would say ‘I never had much’ except that I ended up going through the old posts, and turns out I did used to do posts. Regularly, and on some days quite prolifically. Generally revisiting the glaring inconsistencies of those days is uncomfortable at best, frankly—which is a topic for another day.
‘But Lee,’ you ask, with admirable patience, ‘if you’re so inconsistent and didn’t ever act on this idea before, why now?’
So I had no real reason to put myself through the effort of doing all this, despite my frequent feelings of ‘Oh god I want somewhere to just shout [insert feeling/thought/irritation here] at somewhere, possibly the internet as the universe-which-might-hear.’ But on the one hand, that is very sound-bite-like and I despise that entire approach to internet socialization more than I can say. On the other, god I need to snarl sometimes. On the first hand again: I’m also verbose (had you noticed?) and would end up typing long rants, possibly ones I’d regret if I didn’t have an edit/must-review-this-before-posting function. (Not to mention that I’d spend all my time compulsively refreshing/reading everything if I tried most of the ‘social media’ or whatever.)
The only ‘social media’ thing I have is a
This strategy has worked a time or two, and did while I was visiting my father’s. A friend from middle school replied to my in-town announcement with ‘Oh, let’s do lunch!’ So we did. It was actually really lovely. I am in no way nostalgic about being at that school, ugh, but she was one of the friends I actually had (even if we were more distant even in high school, but that’s another story).
‘But Lee,’ you repeat in exasperation, ‘why now? This has nothing to do with it!’
I thought to myself that it was a bit of a pity that I can’t handle FB, because I’d like to keep in touch with her better. She wasn’t the only person I thought about with that, though. While at my father’s, I stumbled across an old journal, almost all its pages blank, in the handwriting of a friend. I hadn’t talked to her in years, and I was hit with a pang of loneliness and missing her stronger than usual. I thought about her several times over those few weeks, and even since returning home.
‘LEE,’ you interject, having reached the end of that truly admirable patience, ‘WHAT IS YOUR POINT?’
The point is I am telepathic and precognitive. There are even days I’m not sure if that’s facetious or not.
Stay tuned for more tomorrow.