I hope you all have a wonderful celebration tonight, no matter what you're doing. But more importantly, I wish everyone health and happiness in 2014, and the best of luck with your goals and dreams.
Goodnight, bloglings
Tuesday 31 December 2013
The 8th Day of Blogmas
This post comes to you from the couch at a New Years Eve party, where I'm sitting underneath 150 lbs of snuggly Great Dane. I've gotta make this quick, but I had to make my 52nd post before midnight, right?
Monday 30 December 2013
The 7th Day of Blogmas
This post is coming to you from my phone, sitting at the top of the staircase, listening to a dinner party of adults discussing how horrible the internet is. I've heard the phrase "changing our brains" about six times already. Happy Holidays!
So it's almost that time again - New Years resolutions just waiting to be made, and broken. The last two years, instead of an abstract idea, I've set myself very specific goals on January 1st. To take a picture a day, write a blog post a week. While I have yet to be perfectly successful at any of these, I'm always glad to have attempted them.
The last few weeks I've been agonizing over what to do for 2014. Although it's clearly not the point, I really would like to complete one of these things. Essentially, I don't want to set myself up for failure. This past year I definitely struggled a lot with writing a post every week. If I tried to do the same thing this year, I'm afraid it wouldn't go any better.
So then, what to do? I guess in asking myself this, I have to consider what I am really looking for. I like the satisfaction of setting and reaching a goal, and I like having something to show for it, even if it's only to the few friends who follow me around the internet. As paradoxical as it sounds, I like having a structure to encourage my creativity. Truthfully, I kinda like pretending that this is my job - blogging, social networking, or even just writing. The thought of something, or someone, depending on me putting words and thoughts together, is really kinda awesome.
So I guess I'm still undecided. Do I blog? Do I take pictures? What else is there?I've got about 24 hours in which to set my new goal. That's plenty of time, right?
Goodnight, bloglings
P.S. if anyone has ideas for me, feel free to shoot!
Sunday 29 December 2013
The 6th Day of Blogmas
So there was a post going around tumblr today (the post actually originates on this site) which suggested that before making resolutions for 2014, we should all take a second to reflect on how much we accomplished in 2013. 25 things might be kinda hard to do, but let's go for it.
1. Found and moved into my first house, along with some wonderful roommates, and I still manage to pay rent and generally not fuck things up.
2. Finished the first year of my degree, with an average that I'm pretty darn proud of.
3. Ran my first 5K at LeakyCon Portland! On a sprained ankle! And just generally started exercising more seriously.
4. Got my first credit card, and basically kept up with it.
5. Got my G2 licence! (AKA, I can drive without an adult now) (finally)
6. Worked another summer at the same old summer job, but got my first raise and promotion.
7. Did a whole season of CT (combined test, AKA dressage + show jumping) competitions with the mare I've been training for five years. We had an amazing season and finished Reserve Champion in our division.
8. Helped coach a (very) young rider and her pony to compete in their first CT series. Even after a pretty shaky start, they went on to finish the year third in their division.
9. Learned how to drive a pony and cart, and got to compete in a driving show at a summer fair. I did pretty well too!
10. September 2013 marked my first full year as a vegetarian.
11. Picked out the colour and painted a wall in my new room all by myself.
12. Played a bunch of quidditch. Travelled to NY for our first-ever international games, and played a bunch more tournaments in Ontario - two of which we WON!
13. Helped recruit a ton of rad new players to the team in September, who have made this our best year ever.
14. Did a ton of travelling (buses & planes) on my own, which is sometimes scary but mostly pretty fun.
15. Sang karaoke for the first time ever.
16. Decided to try and move towards using only cruelty-free beauty products.
17. I've already gotten two job offers for next summer.
18. I contributed a monthly article to Let's Talk Nerd Culture magazine.
19. Tried to restart a chapter of the Harry Potter Alliance at my school. It's turned into quite a lengthy and frustrating process, but hey, I'm committed to it now. I also supported and donated to the HPA during their Equality For the Win campaign.
20. Applied to go on exchange in 2015, including securing some kick-ass profs to write references for me.
21. I managed to sit through season seven of Doctor Who without breaking my computer. Seriously, it took some effort.
22. I stopped being a pretentious asshole and finally got instagram. Because it's fun.
23. I started eating healthier this year, or at least started thinking more seriously about what I put in my body.
24. This is kinda an abstract one, but I think this year I got better at standing up and speaking out about things. Whether that was confronting casual sexism among my friends or making angry ranty facebook posts about mental health resources. It's still tough, but getting easier every time.
25. I set a goal to write a blog post every week for a year. Although this didn't go as planned, I found a way to finish the year with 52 blog posts behind me. And regardless of how well I did or didn't meet this challenge, I learned a lot about myself and writing and I'm definitely glad I did it.
Well, it's been a pretty awesome year, hasn't it?
Goodnight, bloglings
1. Found and moved into my first house, along with some wonderful roommates, and I still manage to pay rent and generally not fuck things up.
2. Finished the first year of my degree, with an average that I'm pretty darn proud of.
3. Ran my first 5K at LeakyCon Portland! On a sprained ankle! And just generally started exercising more seriously.
4. Got my first credit card, and basically kept up with it.
5. Got my G2 licence! (AKA, I can drive without an adult now) (finally)
6. Worked another summer at the same old summer job, but got my first raise and promotion.
7. Did a whole season of CT (combined test, AKA dressage + show jumping) competitions with the mare I've been training for five years. We had an amazing season and finished Reserve Champion in our division.
8. Helped coach a (very) young rider and her pony to compete in their first CT series. Even after a pretty shaky start, they went on to finish the year third in their division.
9. Learned how to drive a pony and cart, and got to compete in a driving show at a summer fair. I did pretty well too!
10. September 2013 marked my first full year as a vegetarian.
11. Picked out the colour and painted a wall in my new room all by myself.
12. Played a bunch of quidditch. Travelled to NY for our first-ever international games, and played a bunch more tournaments in Ontario - two of which we WON!
13. Helped recruit a ton of rad new players to the team in September, who have made this our best year ever.
14. Did a ton of travelling (buses & planes) on my own, which is sometimes scary but mostly pretty fun.
15. Sang karaoke for the first time ever.
16. Decided to try and move towards using only cruelty-free beauty products.
17. I've already gotten two job offers for next summer.
18. I contributed a monthly article to Let's Talk Nerd Culture magazine.
19. Tried to restart a chapter of the Harry Potter Alliance at my school. It's turned into quite a lengthy and frustrating process, but hey, I'm committed to it now. I also supported and donated to the HPA during their Equality For the Win campaign.
20. Applied to go on exchange in 2015, including securing some kick-ass profs to write references for me.
21. I managed to sit through season seven of Doctor Who without breaking my computer. Seriously, it took some effort.
22. I stopped being a pretentious asshole and finally got instagram. Because it's fun.
23. I started eating healthier this year, or at least started thinking more seriously about what I put in my body.
24. This is kinda an abstract one, but I think this year I got better at standing up and speaking out about things. Whether that was confronting casual sexism among my friends or making angry ranty facebook posts about mental health resources. It's still tough, but getting easier every time.
25. I set a goal to write a blog post every week for a year. Although this didn't go as planned, I found a way to finish the year with 52 blog posts behind me. And regardless of how well I did or didn't meet this challenge, I learned a lot about myself and writing and I'm definitely glad I did it.
Well, it's been a pretty awesome year, hasn't it?
Goodnight, bloglings
Saturday 28 December 2013
The 5th Day of Blogmas
So, you know what's cool? Making connections. Not like, connections with people. I mean, I guess those are kinda cool too. Well, they're ok.
Sometimes.
But I mean drawing connections between two things you would never have expected to be related. Like when you find out a classmate went to high school with your cousin. Or you run into your neighbour on vacation thousands of miles away.
This year I think a lot of my friends really got into the show Orphan Black. I kept hearing the name, but strangely, never much about the plot. Nothing that piqued my interest enough to get me to check it out. All I knew was that the lead actress played like a bunch of different characters, and she was apparently super talented.
Fast forward to today when I (s)tumbled upon a gifset from the show, and was struck by how familiar the actress looked. Something had piqued my curiosity. I turned to google and my first discovery was that the show was created by Canadians, filmed and set in Toronto, and starred a Canadian! Honestly, I'm uber-bummed that it hasn't been marketed (like, at all) to Canadian audiences. You can bet your bottom dollar that I would have been way more likely to check it out way earlier if I had known that. It also sucks that it only airs on Space here, cause if we're being honest, only us nerds watch Space. But it was also very very cool to know that this acclaimed show, which so many of my friends love, is technically Canadian. Really, the only thing Canadians get patriotic about is our hockey teams and our shows/movies/actors.
So yeah, that was a pretty neat connection. BUT WAIT. There's more. So I said that the star, Tatiana Maslany, looked sorta familiar to me, right? Well I clicked on her Wiki page and the first fact that jumped out at me was that she had been on the CBC show Heartland a few years ago. And then all the pieces fell into place. I've loved Heartland since it premiered when I was like thirteen. It's about horses and Alberta and spunky cowgirls and cute cowboys. What's not to like? I've mostly kept up with it over the years, because although it may be the cheesiest thing to ever grace a screen, it has a piece of my heart. Tatiana wasn't a lead on the show, but her character was great, and definitely memorable. So THAT'S where I knew her from. Case closed, right?
NOPE. Or should I say, Knope? It turns out she also guest-starred on two episodes of Parks and Recreation - episodes I watched just yesterday, as a matter of fact. I remember that character sticking out for some reason, and now I know why. I'm not sure if she'll be back - her character just left to vaccinate people in Rwanda - but I would love it if she was.
I'm not sure what the point of all this is - actors play all sorts of varied roles, especially early in their careers. But I guess making these sorts of connections will never stop being cool to me. It may be the "it's a small world" feeling, or just the Sherlock-esque satisfaction of piecing together a puzzle - although I'm sure Sherlock never had to use Wikipedia. But these little coincidences make me irrationally happy,
Goodnight, bloglings
Sometimes.
But I mean drawing connections between two things you would never have expected to be related. Like when you find out a classmate went to high school with your cousin. Or you run into your neighbour on vacation thousands of miles away.
This year I think a lot of my friends really got into the show Orphan Black. I kept hearing the name, but strangely, never much about the plot. Nothing that piqued my interest enough to get me to check it out. All I knew was that the lead actress played like a bunch of different characters, and she was apparently super talented.
Fast forward to today when I (s)tumbled upon a gifset from the show, and was struck by how familiar the actress looked. Something had piqued my curiosity. I turned to google and my first discovery was that the show was created by Canadians, filmed and set in Toronto, and starred a Canadian! Honestly, I'm uber-bummed that it hasn't been marketed (like, at all) to Canadian audiences. You can bet your bottom dollar that I would have been way more likely to check it out way earlier if I had known that. It also sucks that it only airs on Space here, cause if we're being honest, only us nerds watch Space. But it was also very very cool to know that this acclaimed show, which so many of my friends love, is technically Canadian. Really, the only thing Canadians get patriotic about is our hockey teams and our shows/movies/actors.
So yeah, that was a pretty neat connection. BUT WAIT. There's more. So I said that the star, Tatiana Maslany, looked sorta familiar to me, right? Well I clicked on her Wiki page and the first fact that jumped out at me was that she had been on the CBC show Heartland a few years ago. And then all the pieces fell into place. I've loved Heartland since it premiered when I was like thirteen. It's about horses and Alberta and spunky cowgirls and cute cowboys. What's not to like? I've mostly kept up with it over the years, because although it may be the cheesiest thing to ever grace a screen, it has a piece of my heart. Tatiana wasn't a lead on the show, but her character was great, and definitely memorable. So THAT'S where I knew her from. Case closed, right?
NOPE. Or should I say, Knope? It turns out she also guest-starred on two episodes of Parks and Recreation - episodes I watched just yesterday, as a matter of fact. I remember that character sticking out for some reason, and now I know why. I'm not sure if she'll be back - her character just left to vaccinate people in Rwanda - but I would love it if she was.
I'm not sure what the point of all this is - actors play all sorts of varied roles, especially early in their careers. But I guess making these sorts of connections will never stop being cool to me. It may be the "it's a small world" feeling, or just the Sherlock-esque satisfaction of piecing together a puzzle - although I'm sure Sherlock never had to use Wikipedia. But these little coincidences make me irrationally happy,
Goodnight, bloglings
Friday 27 December 2013
The 4th Day of Blogmas
A week from now I'll be back at school, which of course means I've stopped stressing about being bored at home, and started stressing about not getting the most out of my time at home. After the hell of exams, I really wanted to relax this break, and I did, but I also had a few important things to get done. Things that are nowhere near done yet. Namely, my application to study abroad next year.
I sometimes hesitate to talk about this, because although I want it more than anything, it also makes me feel like a walking talking cliche. I plan to study abroad in the U.K. for a semester - yes, me, the Doctor Who and Harry Potter loving anglophile, with a cartoon map of London and a poster from the Globe Theatre on her walls. I am literally the opening chapter of a YA boarding school novel.
I know that this is not actually going to be like a teen novel, and trust me, I definitely don't want it to be. To be honest, right now I'm just concerned with having a good application. I'm not exactly sure how competitive it is, but I'm sure I've picked the most popular destination, by far. Back in high school I applied to a ton of scholarships, and got almost none of them. I'm a decent writer, but I guess I don't do well on open-ended questions.
But for now, let's assume I get it. Obviously it's exciting, a brand new slate - I'll know nobody at the school when I arrive. I'm sure I'll make some great friends and a lot of memories, I think I can at least count on that. But what else? No matter how much I remind myself, it's really, really hard to shake the expectation that this is going to change my life. That I'm going to fall in love, discover my true calling, or something equally revolutionary. All the novels and movies are whispering it to me - this will be Something Big.
I know, my life is not a fairytale, right? But what if this is where the story starts? The moment when all the forces of fate, destiny, magic and the universe converge to change everything forever?
It's silly and naive, and definitely doesn't help me avoid that walking talking cliche problem. But I can dream, right?
(I guess in addition to dreaming, I've got to get started on that application, 'cause it won't write itself.)
Goodnight, bloglings
I sometimes hesitate to talk about this, because although I want it more than anything, it also makes me feel like a walking talking cliche. I plan to study abroad in the U.K. for a semester - yes, me, the Doctor Who and Harry Potter loving anglophile, with a cartoon map of London and a poster from the Globe Theatre on her walls. I am literally the opening chapter of a YA boarding school novel.
I know that this is not actually going to be like a teen novel, and trust me, I definitely don't want it to be. To be honest, right now I'm just concerned with having a good application. I'm not exactly sure how competitive it is, but I'm sure I've picked the most popular destination, by far. Back in high school I applied to a ton of scholarships, and got almost none of them. I'm a decent writer, but I guess I don't do well on open-ended questions.
But for now, let's assume I get it. Obviously it's exciting, a brand new slate - I'll know nobody at the school when I arrive. I'm sure I'll make some great friends and a lot of memories, I think I can at least count on that. But what else? No matter how much I remind myself, it's really, really hard to shake the expectation that this is going to change my life. That I'm going to fall in love, discover my true calling, or something equally revolutionary. All the novels and movies are whispering it to me - this will be Something Big.
I know, my life is not a fairytale, right? But what if this is where the story starts? The moment when all the forces of fate, destiny, magic and the universe converge to change everything forever?
It's silly and naive, and definitely doesn't help me avoid that walking talking cliche problem. But I can dream, right?
(I guess in addition to dreaming, I've got to get started on that application, 'cause it won't write itself.)
Goodnight, bloglings
Thursday 26 December 2013
The 3rd Day of Blogmas
What's the perfect way to rest and relax after a gruelling semester and exam period? By developing an instant obsession with a new TV show and spending every waking hour glued to a screen, consuming season after season as fast as possible, of course. It's the millennial way.
My newest love is the show Parks and Recreation. In ten days I've watched all five and a half seasons - or just about. As soon as I hit publish on this post, I'll be once again consumed by the obsession. I've only got three episodes left!
But I have a problem. My utter adoration for this show has become a curse - I've have absolutely nobody to talk to about it. Any place on the internet (cough/tumblr/cough) is going to be full of spoilers. And so far, I haven't been able to convert any of my family members. (But boy, have I tried.)
I'm not sure where to begin with what I love about this show. I've never been really into comedies, and I especially can't stand shows that take place in an office. But this one has a ton of heart. A quirky, stifling, adorable, and frustrating small town. A fantastic, amazing female protagonist. And lovable, flawed, real friends who care about each other a rediculous amount. Also feminism. A lot of feminism.
This may be the coma-inducing boredom and loneliness of winter break talking, but this show makes me so, so proud of the wonderful friendships I'm privileged to have. It also kinda makes me want to run for public office with a cute, scrawny, nerdy boyfriend as my campaign manager.
If you haven't seen it, you should. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a victory speech to write.
I mean a show to watch.
Goodnight, bloglings
My newest love is the show Parks and Recreation. In ten days I've watched all five and a half seasons - or just about. As soon as I hit publish on this post, I'll be once again consumed by the obsession. I've only got three episodes left!
But I have a problem. My utter adoration for this show has become a curse - I've have absolutely nobody to talk to about it. Any place on the internet (cough/tumblr/cough) is going to be full of spoilers. And so far, I haven't been able to convert any of my family members. (But boy, have I tried.)
I'm not sure where to begin with what I love about this show. I've never been really into comedies, and I especially can't stand shows that take place in an office. But this one has a ton of heart. A quirky, stifling, adorable, and frustrating small town. A fantastic, amazing female protagonist. And lovable, flawed, real friends who care about each other a rediculous amount. Also feminism. A lot of feminism.
This may be the coma-inducing boredom and loneliness of winter break talking, but this show makes me so, so proud of the wonderful friendships I'm privileged to have. It also kinda makes me want to run for public office with a cute, scrawny, nerdy boyfriend as my campaign manager.
If you haven't seen it, you should. And now, if you'll excuse me, I have a victory speech to write.
I mean a show to watch.
Goodnight, bloglings
Wednesday 25 December 2013
The 2nd Day of Blogmas
Nope. Not even going to try and apologize for this. On the very second day of daily blogging, I completely forgot to post. Until almost 2am the next day.
Welp.
My holidays have been wonderful so far, filled with home and family and food. So much food. I wanted to share a little bit about my Christmas experience, but for some reason, I'm coming up short with words tonight. I guess all I can say is that I'm extremely grateful to have the life that I have.
So, in case you aren't following me on instagram, here is a short summary of my holidays, via iPhone photos.
Goodnight, bloglings
Welp.
My holidays have been wonderful so far, filled with home and family and food. So much food. I wanted to share a little bit about my Christmas experience, but for some reason, I'm coming up short with words tonight. I guess all I can say is that I'm extremely grateful to have the life that I have.
So, in case you aren't following me on instagram, here is a short summary of my holidays, via iPhone photos.
Tuesday 24 December 2013
The 1st Day of Blogmas
Hey there friends. I guess it's been a while.
Firstly, I hope that you're snuggled somewhere warm right now, maybe with a hot beverage, or a fire (hopefully in a fireplace) nearby. Whatever you celebrate, we can all appreciate being surrounded by friends and family this week, right? Or at least appreciate the fact that yours haven't all killed each other yet?
I've been putting off posting here for a while because, in the way of former-above-average children everywhere, I'm terrified of admitting to failure. But with basically a week left in 2013, I'm running out of time. My goal for this year was to post once a week. 52 posts in 2013. I'm not quite sure at what point the "once a week" element went out the window, but this past semester, you've been lucky to get a post once a month. Before this post, I was eight (8) blog posts behind schedule.
I'm not quite sure how I feel about this, to be honest. Last year, I tried to take a picture once a day, and although I made it to the end in pretty good shape, I definitely had a couple (or a couple dozen) screw-up days throughout that year. So I think I've accepted the inevitability of failing to execute something like this to absolute perfection. It still bums me out that this year wasn't documented as much as I had planned, at least not in words.
I think it's fair to say most of the weeks I missed were due to sheer busyness (or sheer time mismanagement). But, towards the end, I definitely suffered from a crippling fear of not measuring up. I'm not quite sure where I got my ideas about what a blog post should be, but I guess I feel that it should say something profound, or at least say something in a profound way. That's definitely a dumb obsession I'm just gonna have to get over.
To conclude these ramblings: there are 8 days left in 2013, and if I post something on every single one of them, I'll just make it to my total of 52 posts this year. It's not how I had planned, but hey, what ever is?
Merry Blogmas, bloglings!
Firstly, I hope that you're snuggled somewhere warm right now, maybe with a hot beverage, or a fire (hopefully in a fireplace) nearby. Whatever you celebrate, we can all appreciate being surrounded by friends and family this week, right? Or at least appreciate the fact that yours haven't all killed each other yet?
I've been putting off posting here for a while because, in the way of former-above-average children everywhere, I'm terrified of admitting to failure. But with basically a week left in 2013, I'm running out of time. My goal for this year was to post once a week. 52 posts in 2013. I'm not quite sure at what point the "once a week" element went out the window, but this past semester, you've been lucky to get a post once a month. Before this post, I was eight (8) blog posts behind schedule.
I'm not quite sure how I feel about this, to be honest. Last year, I tried to take a picture once a day, and although I made it to the end in pretty good shape, I definitely had a couple (or a couple dozen) screw-up days throughout that year. So I think I've accepted the inevitability of failing to execute something like this to absolute perfection. It still bums me out that this year wasn't documented as much as I had planned, at least not in words.
I think it's fair to say most of the weeks I missed were due to sheer busyness (or sheer time mismanagement). But, towards the end, I definitely suffered from a crippling fear of not measuring up. I'm not quite sure where I got my ideas about what a blog post should be, but I guess I feel that it should say something profound, or at least say something in a profound way. That's definitely a dumb obsession I'm just gonna have to get over.
To conclude these ramblings: there are 8 days left in 2013, and if I post something on every single one of them, I'll just make it to my total of 52 posts this year. It's not how I had planned, but hey, what ever is?
Merry Blogmas, bloglings!
Sunday 1 December 2013
Week ??: Five Years Time
While I am still buried deep beneath the mountain that is finals, I thought I'd better get something up here. I have a plan for saving this blog project and having the right number of posts up before the end of 2013. I promise. But for now, here's an excerpt from a paper I wrote for one of my classes. The assignment was to write about where you want to be in five years. It was an interesting project, and really helped me to think about my future in a different way - with less sheer terror, and more tentative optimism.
"Five years from now, I would like to have my writing published in a variety of places. That might include magazines, newspapers, a collection or anthology, or possibly even a book of my own. There are also several news/general interest websites where I would love to see my writing. This goal is important to me because writing is the best way I can understand life and communicate with the world around me. It is an area in which I can be proud of my work, while also constantly striving for improvement. Writing is a creative endeavour, but it can convey any message that the writers sets out to express – from innermost thoughts, to a fantastical story, to an important social message. I would like to try my hand at both fiction and non-fiction, and through both of these I see myself addressing issues that are of great personal importance to me, such as the environment, feminism, and LGBTQ rights.
In order to achieve my goal, I know I will need to be determined and persistent in getting my writing out there. I will submit pieces to many different publications, and take rejections and criticism as opportunities to learn and improve. Above all, I will need to practice by constantly writing, whether it is for publication or simply for myself. I may consider additional education or training in writing – for example, a M.F.A. in creative writing – but I don’t foresee this as my first step directly after graduating with my B.A.S. degree. It may be necessary for me to work in another field while I develop my writing skills and build a freelance career. Later on, a more permanent position, at a magazine for example, would be ideal, but this is unlikely to happen within five years. If I do end up working as a professional freelance writer, I will need to be particularly disciplined and organized in my work, and essentially be my own boss. It is impossible to lay out a step-by-step plan for this type of career path, but if I remain flexible and open to every opportunity, while keeping my end goals in sight, I am confident I can achieve whatever I want to."
"Five years from now, I would like to have my writing published in a variety of places. That might include magazines, newspapers, a collection or anthology, or possibly even a book of my own. There are also several news/general interest websites where I would love to see my writing. This goal is important to me because writing is the best way I can understand life and communicate with the world around me. It is an area in which I can be proud of my work, while also constantly striving for improvement. Writing is a creative endeavour, but it can convey any message that the writers sets out to express – from innermost thoughts, to a fantastical story, to an important social message. I would like to try my hand at both fiction and non-fiction, and through both of these I see myself addressing issues that are of great personal importance to me, such as the environment, feminism, and LGBTQ rights.
In order to achieve my goal, I know I will need to be determined and persistent in getting my writing out there. I will submit pieces to many different publications, and take rejections and criticism as opportunities to learn and improve. Above all, I will need to practice by constantly writing, whether it is for publication or simply for myself. I may consider additional education or training in writing – for example, a M.F.A. in creative writing – but I don’t foresee this as my first step directly after graduating with my B.A.S. degree. It may be necessary for me to work in another field while I develop my writing skills and build a freelance career. Later on, a more permanent position, at a magazine for example, would be ideal, but this is unlikely to happen within five years. If I do end up working as a professional freelance writer, I will need to be particularly disciplined and organized in my work, and essentially be my own boss. It is impossible to lay out a step-by-step plan for this type of career path, but if I remain flexible and open to every opportunity, while keeping my end goals in sight, I am confident I can achieve whatever I want to."
Sunday 17 November 2013
Week ???: Still Alive
If this was 2007, I would justify this kinda post by saying I wanted to let you know that I'm still alive. But, let's be real. You've seen enough of my tweets and tumbls to know that I haven't gone anywhere. With all the internet places we have to frequent, a real proper blog (which this mess aspires to be) has become secondary for most people.
But yes, I sure have let my goal (posting once a week throughout 2013) slide. Like, really, really far. And on top of that, I have fallen back on the classic fall-back "post about not posting more" far too often.
I'm doing it right now, if you couldn't tell.
So, let's see if I can muster up some actual content.
Hmm.
Well. Speaking of being not dead, there is currently a ridiculous windstorm raging outside my window. I can hear trees being whipped back and forth, bending impossibly far without breaking. Yet.
It's the kind of storm that can make a bed feel more cozy, light feel more comforting, and sleep come more easily. In case I've neglected to mention it here before: I love the wind. It's hands down my favourite weather condition. There is something so refreshing and exciting about a windy day (or a windy night). Maybe its the uncertainty about what nature will throw at us next. Maybe its the potential for imagination; to pretend we are flying through the sky, or through a vortex to a different universe.
Where I live, wind is never really a threat. The weather that manages to scare us is usually ice - that's what takes down trees, cuts out power, and makes roads impassible. Thunderstorms do some damage too, in the summer. But wind itself is nothing - wind is excitement, thrill, and maybe a branch or two landing in your yard.
Earlier this evening, I heard that tornadoes had caused multiple deaths in the States. That's one weather feature I'm not usually concerned about up here, but it's always a possibility. A distant, but rather scary, possibility.
The thing is, tornadoes don't make my wind any less wonderful. Maybe that makes me a terrible person. But nature throws a lot of stuff our way, and most of it could probably kill us, if we were in the wrong place at the wrong time. We revel in the natural world because it gets at something essential inside us - and we can't shy away, or shut it out, just because it is double-sidedly dangerous.
Goodnight, bloglings
But yes, I sure have let my goal (posting once a week throughout 2013) slide. Like, really, really far. And on top of that, I have fallen back on the classic fall-back "post about not posting more" far too often.
I'm doing it right now, if you couldn't tell.
So, let's see if I can muster up some actual content.
Hmm.
Well. Speaking of being not dead, there is currently a ridiculous windstorm raging outside my window. I can hear trees being whipped back and forth, bending impossibly far without breaking. Yet.
It's the kind of storm that can make a bed feel more cozy, light feel more comforting, and sleep come more easily. In case I've neglected to mention it here before: I love the wind. It's hands down my favourite weather condition. There is something so refreshing and exciting about a windy day (or a windy night). Maybe its the uncertainty about what nature will throw at us next. Maybe its the potential for imagination; to pretend we are flying through the sky, or through a vortex to a different universe.
Where I live, wind is never really a threat. The weather that manages to scare us is usually ice - that's what takes down trees, cuts out power, and makes roads impassible. Thunderstorms do some damage too, in the summer. But wind itself is nothing - wind is excitement, thrill, and maybe a branch or two landing in your yard.
Earlier this evening, I heard that tornadoes had caused multiple deaths in the States. That's one weather feature I'm not usually concerned about up here, but it's always a possibility. A distant, but rather scary, possibility.
The thing is, tornadoes don't make my wind any less wonderful. Maybe that makes me a terrible person. But nature throws a lot of stuff our way, and most of it could probably kill us, if we were in the wrong place at the wrong time. We revel in the natural world because it gets at something essential inside us - and we can't shy away, or shut it out, just because it is double-sidedly dangerous.
Goodnight, bloglings
Tuesday 29 October 2013
Week 42: Mud. Everywhere.
So I just realized that I haven't updated you lovely people about quidditch at all this semester. I mean, its definitely still a thing, if you were wondering.
Two weekends ago we played in our first tournament of the season, all the way down in New York. This was our first time ever playing quidditch outside of Canada, and the first real live games that a lot of our players had ever experienced. So, big day.
It started at about 4 am, when most of us had to get out of bed and stumble around packing cleats, brooms, and a ton of warm clothes. We embarked on the 4+ hour drive, fully intending to get some more sleep in, but ended up singing Disney and Les Mis songs at the top of our lungs for most of the way there.
Once we found our way to the field, the excitement started to hit. An unfortunate miscommunication lost us our first game, but after that we hit the pitch with so much more determination, and won our remaining three games of the day - including a win over the top-ranked team in Canada.
With a pretty good feeling about the rest of the season, we piled into our cars and trekked home, using every tactic available to keep our valiant drivers awake. Arriving home at around 10:30 pm, we celebrated our victories well into the night, making this my first 24 hours awake spent entirely with quidditch kids. The first of many, I'm sure.
The following weekend, being mostly recovered, we set out to a (thankfully) much closer tournament, with a lot more sleep under our belts too. We all knew rain was in the forecast, but what we didn't quite forsee was...the mud.
dun dun dun.....
After a chilly and damp warm up, we hit the pitch, which almost immediately turned to mud under our feet. After a few games, we were practically swimming in the stuff. Not to mention that we were head-to-toe covered in it, hair and teeth included. Thankfully there was a warm and dry building nearby with couches and washrooms and Tim Hortons - if there is one thing that can keep a Canadian quidkid happy, it's Timmies.
Unfortunately the mud did claim a victim, as one player from an opposing team slipped and fell on his ankle, and had to be taken away in an ambulance. After relocating the pitch to a slightly less treacherous patch of lawn, play continued, and we ended up winning all four of our games that day.
Exhausted, soaked, and filthy beyond recognition - but in a pretty good mood - the team piled into cars once again, and most of them set out to drive to yet another tournament. On the other side of the province. At 8pm.
Those of us not making that particular journey went home, drank wine and watched a chick flick, while our teammates struggled on through the night. They ended up arriving at 2am, with just enough time to fall asleep for a few minutes before getting up to hit the pitch once more.
(In case you weren't already aware, quidditch players are pretty freaking badass)
Lack of sleep definitely took its toll on our team that day, and they suffered hard-fought losses in all three of their games. On Sunday night, our team returned to us as quidditch zombies, after a whirlwind of driving, chasing, seeking, beating and snitching - with very little sleeping in between. But besides an undead-like appearance, they had come home with experience - which will be essential as we continue our season.
So, that's all for now, folks. We are currently ranked fourth out of 16 teams in our region (Ontario and Quebec). Stay tuned to hear how we fare against all those other teams at the Canada Cup in a few weeks!
Goodnight, bloglings.
Two weekends ago we played in our first tournament of the season, all the way down in New York. This was our first time ever playing quidditch outside of Canada, and the first real live games that a lot of our players had ever experienced. So, big day.
It started at about 4 am, when most of us had to get out of bed and stumble around packing cleats, brooms, and a ton of warm clothes. We embarked on the 4+ hour drive, fully intending to get some more sleep in, but ended up singing Disney and Les Mis songs at the top of our lungs for most of the way there.
Once we found our way to the field, the excitement started to hit. An unfortunate miscommunication lost us our first game, but after that we hit the pitch with so much more determination, and won our remaining three games of the day - including a win over the top-ranked team in Canada.
With a pretty good feeling about the rest of the season, we piled into our cars and trekked home, using every tactic available to keep our valiant drivers awake. Arriving home at around 10:30 pm, we celebrated our victories well into the night, making this my first 24 hours awake spent entirely with quidditch kids. The first of many, I'm sure.
The following weekend, being mostly recovered, we set out to a (thankfully) much closer tournament, with a lot more sleep under our belts too. We all knew rain was in the forecast, but what we didn't quite forsee was...the mud.
dun dun dun.....
After a chilly and damp warm up, we hit the pitch, which almost immediately turned to mud under our feet. After a few games, we were practically swimming in the stuff. Not to mention that we were head-to-toe covered in it, hair and teeth included. Thankfully there was a warm and dry building nearby with couches and washrooms and Tim Hortons - if there is one thing that can keep a Canadian quidkid happy, it's Timmies.
Unfortunately the mud did claim a victim, as one player from an opposing team slipped and fell on his ankle, and had to be taken away in an ambulance. After relocating the pitch to a slightly less treacherous patch of lawn, play continued, and we ended up winning all four of our games that day.
Exhausted, soaked, and filthy beyond recognition - but in a pretty good mood - the team piled into cars once again, and most of them set out to drive to yet another tournament. On the other side of the province. At 8pm.
Those of us not making that particular journey went home, drank wine and watched a chick flick, while our teammates struggled on through the night. They ended up arriving at 2am, with just enough time to fall asleep for a few minutes before getting up to hit the pitch once more.
(In case you weren't already aware, quidditch players are pretty freaking badass)
Lack of sleep definitely took its toll on our team that day, and they suffered hard-fought losses in all three of their games. On Sunday night, our team returned to us as quidditch zombies, after a whirlwind of driving, chasing, seeking, beating and snitching - with very little sleeping in between. But besides an undead-like appearance, they had come home with experience - which will be essential as we continue our season.
So, that's all for now, folks. We are currently ranked fourth out of 16 teams in our region (Ontario and Quebec). Stay tuned to hear how we fare against all those other teams at the Canada Cup in a few weeks!
Goodnight, bloglings.
Friday 25 October 2013
Week 41: Not Feeling It
So apparently it's now the end of October. Who knew? People who care about Halloween, I guess.
As I said in my last post, I'm all about fall - but I just can't get into Halloween this year. I've never been a fan of gore or horror, so my Halloweens have always tended towards the clever costumes, the unscary movies, and the candy. But even that seems dull this year.
Maybe it's the fact that I'm drowning in homework and projects, not to mention other commitments, like this blog, LTNC, and quidditch. It could be the fact that collecting candy is not really a viable option after the age of 18. But honestly, staying warm and dry and curled up with tumblr sounds far more appealing than stressing over ripped tights, missing safety-pins, running makeup or the fear that nobody will get my costume.
So this is my official declaration, world. Don't count me in for Halloween this year.
The thing is, this is weird for me. I'm usually mega-committed to holidays and traditions. All of them. Heck, I even get upset when I don't get a chance to properly celebrate Remembrance Day. Days that are stable in my life, year after year, are super important to me - although until now I've never thought about why.
I guess most holidays have an emotional connection - I mean, that gives us something to celebrate, right? Christmas, Thanksgiving, Canada Day, all tug on one heart-string or the other. But, does Halloween? It's definitely the source of some great memories for me, and I can totally understand others' excitement. But as far as emotions go? There's nothing really there.
So next week you'll be able to find me dressed as an apathetic university student, complete with laptop and complete disregard for normal adult sleeping schedules.
Goodnight, bloglings
As I said in my last post, I'm all about fall - but I just can't get into Halloween this year. I've never been a fan of gore or horror, so my Halloweens have always tended towards the clever costumes, the unscary movies, and the candy. But even that seems dull this year.
Maybe it's the fact that I'm drowning in homework and projects, not to mention other commitments, like this blog, LTNC, and quidditch. It could be the fact that collecting candy is not really a viable option after the age of 18. But honestly, staying warm and dry and curled up with tumblr sounds far more appealing than stressing over ripped tights, missing safety-pins, running makeup or the fear that nobody will get my costume.
So this is my official declaration, world. Don't count me in for Halloween this year.
The thing is, this is weird for me. I'm usually mega-committed to holidays and traditions. All of them. Heck, I even get upset when I don't get a chance to properly celebrate Remembrance Day. Days that are stable in my life, year after year, are super important to me - although until now I've never thought about why.
I guess most holidays have an emotional connection - I mean, that gives us something to celebrate, right? Christmas, Thanksgiving, Canada Day, all tug on one heart-string or the other. But, does Halloween? It's definitely the source of some great memories for me, and I can totally understand others' excitement. But as far as emotions go? There's nothing really there.
So next week you'll be able to find me dressed as an apathetic university student, complete with laptop and complete disregard for normal adult sleeping schedules.
Goodnight, bloglings
Tuesday 22 October 2013
Week 40(ish): Falling
So, it's been a while, hasn't it?
The wonderful website whatweekisit.com informs me that it is, in fact, the 43rd week of the year. So. Yes. Well.
*clears throat* Anyways...
After what seemed like unnatural amounts of sunshine the last few weeks, it's actually starting to feel cold. And I couldn't be happier. I love fall for its variety, for the way everything around us changes so fast. I love the warm, golden days of September, the deep colours of early October, and the blustery storms of November. But most of all I love the contrast, that feeling when you see the first red leaves, the first dusting of frost, or the first snowflakes drifting down from a hazy sky. It's a new beginning in a season of endings.
This new chill in the air makes going outside so invigorating - and makes coming back inside all the more comforting. It makes socks and sweaters and blankets earn their keep. And it makes hot chocolate and Starbucks into tactical maneuvers in the war against being cold.
It means that there are essays to be written, midterms to be taken, and boring books to be read, but it also means that we are almost there, the holidays are now in sight. It means deadlines and countdowns and making a point to start thinking about planning to remember to start gift shopping.
When someone says they don't like fall, they either still miss summer or they're impatient for winter. They are looking for something specific, in a large amount. What they fail to realize is that fall has everything you could want - sun, beautiful landscapes, chilly air, a bit of snow - but only in small doses, to be savoured and remembered. Fall makes us appreciate every gorgeous day, whether it's +20 or -10. It makes us take notice of the strange and fantastic environment around us, and the crazy things it can do.
Hopefully I can find some time in my busy weeks to slow down and give fall the appreciation it deserves.
(And also to catch up on blog posts)
Goodnight, bloglings
The wonderful website whatweekisit.com informs me that it is, in fact, the 43rd week of the year. So. Yes. Well.
*clears throat* Anyways...
After what seemed like unnatural amounts of sunshine the last few weeks, it's actually starting to feel cold. And I couldn't be happier. I love fall for its variety, for the way everything around us changes so fast. I love the warm, golden days of September, the deep colours of early October, and the blustery storms of November. But most of all I love the contrast, that feeling when you see the first red leaves, the first dusting of frost, or the first snowflakes drifting down from a hazy sky. It's a new beginning in a season of endings.
This new chill in the air makes going outside so invigorating - and makes coming back inside all the more comforting. It makes socks and sweaters and blankets earn their keep. And it makes hot chocolate and Starbucks into tactical maneuvers in the war against being cold.
It means that there are essays to be written, midterms to be taken, and boring books to be read, but it also means that we are almost there, the holidays are now in sight. It means deadlines and countdowns and making a point to start thinking about planning to remember to start gift shopping.
When someone says they don't like fall, they either still miss summer or they're impatient for winter. They are looking for something specific, in a large amount. What they fail to realize is that fall has everything you could want - sun, beautiful landscapes, chilly air, a bit of snow - but only in small doses, to be savoured and remembered. Fall makes us appreciate every gorgeous day, whether it's +20 or -10. It makes us take notice of the strange and fantastic environment around us, and the crazy things it can do.
Hopefully I can find some time in my busy weeks to slow down and give fall the appreciation it deserves.
(And also to catch up on blog posts)
Goodnight, bloglings
Monday 7 October 2013
Week 39: One Year Later
This blog post, which is still, by the way, one week behind schedule, is brought to you by the first night in two weeks that I haven't had any homework.
So about a year ago, I did a thing. It was sort of a weird thing but turned out to be a very very good decision.
Two days ago, I did the thing again. Again, it was weird. But a good decision just the same.
And in this last year, things - other things - have both changed and stayed the same.
My day-to-day life is almost exactly the same this week as it was a year ago. The weather is the same, the school work is basically the same, the catastrophic mess that is the laundry in the corner of my bedroom is the same too.
But some things are so, so different. I've got a safety net, I've got a bunch of people around me that are supportive and loving and beautifully ridiculous. I feel secure, like a tree that's put down roots. These roots aren't just in one place or in any place at all, but I know that they'll keep me standing up.
I know these things are natural progressions, and probably would have happened on their own. But I like to think that doing the thing had something to do with it.
So I'm kinda liking the part of semi-adulthood where I get to just, you know, do things. On my own. I can just, like, do. the. thing. It's pretty rad. 10/10. Would recommend.
So, one year later, here's to doing things. Big things and little things, scary things that turn out fun and fun things that turn out kinda scary.
Imma go do some things.
Actually, Imma go sleep, because the last thing I did sorta didn't involve that at all. For 24 hours.
Goodnight, bloglings
So about a year ago, I did a thing. It was sort of a weird thing but turned out to be a very very good decision.
Two days ago, I did the thing again. Again, it was weird. But a good decision just the same.
And in this last year, things - other things - have both changed and stayed the same.
My day-to-day life is almost exactly the same this week as it was a year ago. The weather is the same, the school work is basically the same, the catastrophic mess that is the laundry in the corner of my bedroom is the same too.
But some things are so, so different. I've got a safety net, I've got a bunch of people around me that are supportive and loving and beautifully ridiculous. I feel secure, like a tree that's put down roots. These roots aren't just in one place or in any place at all, but I know that they'll keep me standing up.
I know these things are natural progressions, and probably would have happened on their own. But I like to think that doing the thing had something to do with it.
So I'm kinda liking the part of semi-adulthood where I get to just, you know, do things. On my own. I can just, like, do. the. thing. It's pretty rad. 10/10. Would recommend.
So, one year later, here's to doing things. Big things and little things, scary things that turn out fun and fun things that turn out kinda scary.
Imma go do some things.
Actually, Imma go sleep, because the last thing I did sorta didn't involve that at all. For 24 hours.
Goodnight, bloglings
Sunday 29 September 2013
Week 38: Looking In
So it feels like everyone in the English-speaking world (and probably lots of people outside of it too) is watching the finale of a certain TV show right now. If you don't know to what I'm referring, well to be honest I'm not sure how you have braved the internet long enough to make it to this little corner.
Or, I mean, maybe you are reading this years into the future. Which is cool too, I guess. Hi.
To cut to the chase, I was not among the millions watching the finale of Breaking Bad tonight. I mean, for starters, I don't even have a cable subscription, and ... what do you mean those bunny ears don't work anymore?!?
For real though, I've never seen a single episode of Breaking Bad. Although I hear it's some dazzling achievement in television drama, or something. It has never appealed to me. Maybe that's because there are no intelligent, attractive British men on it - that seems to be my requirement lately. But over the past (*pauses to find the Wikipedia article*) five-ish years, I've watched everyone else fall for this show. I mean, really fall for it. This past weekend I have seen actual outpourings of love for this series.
Which shouldn't be unusual, since I spend a good portion of my waking hours on website seemingly dedicated to outpourings of love for fictional stories and their characters. But what seems odd about the Breaking Bad phenomenon is the audience. Or more correctly, I guess, it's that the audience isn't any one thing at all. It isn't just teenagers and young adults, and it isn't just 40+ year olds in their parents' basement. People from all walks of life are really, really passionate about this show.
Of course, the nerds are passionate about it too - maybe more so than average- but what has surprised me is that people who wouldn't normally be called nerds, who may even mock those who are, have become genuinely invested in this show.
And although I have no clue what it's about (Wait...it's meth, right? It's about meth? And a teacher?) and although I'm sure the finale was heart-wrenching...and despite the fact that it is currently clogging up every single social media feed I possess... I'm really sorta happy about it. Having been enchanted by so many stories, and having an enormous community to love them with, I know exactly how every Breaking Bad viewer is feeling tonight.
(I mean, unless they are feeling like starting a meth lab. I don't know what that feels like.)
I know that they will laugh and cry and talk endlessly about it with their friends tomorrow, and even though I'm on the outside looking in, I'm just really glad that a story still has the power to unite us like this.
Goodnight, bloglings
Or, I mean, maybe you are reading this years into the future. Which is cool too, I guess. Hi.
To cut to the chase, I was not among the millions watching the finale of Breaking Bad tonight. I mean, for starters, I don't even have a cable subscription, and ... what do you mean those bunny ears don't work anymore?!?
For real though, I've never seen a single episode of Breaking Bad. Although I hear it's some dazzling achievement in television drama, or something. It has never appealed to me. Maybe that's because there are no intelligent, attractive British men on it - that seems to be my requirement lately. But over the past (*pauses to find the Wikipedia article*) five-ish years, I've watched everyone else fall for this show. I mean, really fall for it. This past weekend I have seen actual outpourings of love for this series.
Which shouldn't be unusual, since I spend a good portion of my waking hours on website seemingly dedicated to outpourings of love for fictional stories and their characters. But what seems odd about the Breaking Bad phenomenon is the audience. Or more correctly, I guess, it's that the audience isn't any one thing at all. It isn't just teenagers and young adults, and it isn't just 40+ year olds in their parents' basement. People from all walks of life are really, really passionate about this show.
Of course, the nerds are passionate about it too - maybe more so than average- but what has surprised me is that people who wouldn't normally be called nerds, who may even mock those who are, have become genuinely invested in this show.
And although I have no clue what it's about (Wait...it's meth, right? It's about meth? And a teacher?) and although I'm sure the finale was heart-wrenching...and despite the fact that it is currently clogging up every single social media feed I possess... I'm really sorta happy about it. Having been enchanted by so many stories, and having an enormous community to love them with, I know exactly how every Breaking Bad viewer is feeling tonight.
(I mean, unless they are feeling like starting a meth lab. I don't know what that feels like.)
I know that they will laugh and cry and talk endlessly about it with their friends tomorrow, and even though I'm on the outside looking in, I'm just really glad that a story still has the power to unite us like this.
Goodnight, bloglings
Saturday 21 September 2013
Week 37: Inevitable
Lately I've been thinking about how so much of my life feels sorta pre-lived for me. Roommates, leafy campus, classes, essays and ramen noodles at 1 am - aren't I just following a beaten track? This rite of passage is so uniform and well-documented that sometimes I feel as though I could do it in my sleep. (Sometimes I wish I could do it in my sleep, but that's another story all together.)
It's not that I hate it, not at all - like any sort of life, the ups and the downs generally balance out somewhere around okay. The grass over the fence is greener, but then it always will be.
And I know this is just a waiting room, a holding pen before the bigger and better and brighter things but what if bigger is just a bigger room? What if that future is also a path that has been beaten by so many before me that it's no longer anything but dirt, no longer anything alive or green?
At least three times every day I feel a sense of deja-vu - recognizing that my day-to-day is just a montage from a college movie and the only thing I'm missing is the soundtrack and the jumpcuts. You know in those dreams when you somehow know that the door is going to open, an infinitesimal second before it does - that it's inevitable? When your life is pre-lived, everything you do, no matter what, is inevitable. It's a product of your stress or your hormones or your environment or your upbringing or it's just the next step on the ladder to success but no matter what it's inevitable. It's been done before and will be done again. Don't believe me? Check the internet, because a million people think every post is 'so relateable'.
So much is made of this time of life, but I'm not sure that I'll be able to make anything with these cookie-cutter memories. Graduation pictures taken in a uniform - under a uniform tree and a uniform sky, by a uniformed dude to be put in uniform frames? There is something so sterile about that. And we hold this up as such an achievement, as if we have climbed a mountain or built a house, as if we've done something other than traipse down the path beaten so smooth for us by generations and movies just to put on the same robes and toss the same cap in the air.
It's not that anything's the matter; it's just that everything is the same.
Goodnight, bloglings
It's not that I hate it, not at all - like any sort of life, the ups and the downs generally balance out somewhere around okay. The grass over the fence is greener, but then it always will be.
And I know this is just a waiting room, a holding pen before the bigger and better and brighter things but what if bigger is just a bigger room? What if that future is also a path that has been beaten by so many before me that it's no longer anything but dirt, no longer anything alive or green?
At least three times every day I feel a sense of deja-vu - recognizing that my day-to-day is just a montage from a college movie and the only thing I'm missing is the soundtrack and the jumpcuts. You know in those dreams when you somehow know that the door is going to open, an infinitesimal second before it does - that it's inevitable? When your life is pre-lived, everything you do, no matter what, is inevitable. It's a product of your stress or your hormones or your environment or your upbringing or it's just the next step on the ladder to success but no matter what it's inevitable. It's been done before and will be done again. Don't believe me? Check the internet, because a million people think every post is 'so relateable'.
So much is made of this time of life, but I'm not sure that I'll be able to make anything with these cookie-cutter memories. Graduation pictures taken in a uniform - under a uniform tree and a uniform sky, by a uniformed dude to be put in uniform frames? There is something so sterile about that. And we hold this up as such an achievement, as if we have climbed a mountain or built a house, as if we've done something other than traipse down the path beaten so smooth for us by generations and movies just to put on the same robes and toss the same cap in the air.
It's not that anything's the matter; it's just that everything is the same.
Goodnight, bloglings
Saturday 14 September 2013
Week 36: Harry Potter and the New Mythology
All right, so I'm doing a pretty terrible job of staying on schedule here. But I completely and wholeheartedly do not care right now because FANTASTIC BEASTS AND WHERE TO FIND THEM.
If you haven't already heard that J.K. Rowling is writing the screenplay for a new movie based on a Hogwarts textbook, then kindly locate the exit to this blog. Unless of course you have a legitimate reason. Like your internet was down. Or you were off mountain-climbing. Or scuba-diving. Or-
No, there really aren't any other excuses.
This is the biggest news to hit the Potter fandom since we found out that Jo had written The Cuckoo's Calling under all of our noses. In fact, it's bigger than that. Although the shock value of that revelation was high, since the book had been out for months already, this is so much more important.
This is our world - the place where we learned to imagine, where we learned to be brave, loyal, ambitious and wise, and where we learned to be passionate and unabashedly enthusiastic about the things that we love, and to stand up for what we believe in.
And we're going to go back. Which, on the surface, is a strange thing to be jumping-up-and-down-in-our-chairs excited about. Because ... we never really left. Everyone who owns the books or DVDs, or has access to a library or the internet, can plunge back into Harry's world and revisit the stories anytime they like. Heck, we've been doing it since the minute we finished Book 7.
But this is new content, a new story, a new part of the Wizarding world, not just about Harry - which is what makes it so exciting, right? Well, as long as we have had fan fiction, fan art and wizard rock, we've had new content. We've been exploring new facets of Harry's universe since before Jo even finished writing the series. I'm sure, if you dig deep enough, there is wizarding fan fiction set in New York City in the roaring twenties. Maybe even a fic or two about Newt Scamander.
The difference, of course, is that this movie will be written by Jo herself, so it is 100% canon. Unlike fanfic, it's "what really happened"...within a completely made-up story. Uh. Right.
Here's my thing: Potter fans have done things with the HP universe that were utterly unprecedented in literature. (The only distant comparison would be the ways people have interpreted and used the Bible over the centuries.) We don't just enjoy this world - we live in it. We roleplay and write and sing and do ALL the things within the wizarding universe. We have created new characters and completely rewritten the Harry Potter books from different viewpoints. So, I mean, ... how much does it really matter what is canon and what isn't?
At this point, doesn't this universe belong more to us than it does to J.K. Rowling?
Collectively, we have certainly written more words, plotted more stories, and spent more time in it than she has. Of course, it would not exist without her original creation. But then, the myths of the world had to have been thought up by someone at some point too, right? And would we deny that the people of a certain culture are the owners of their respective myths - and have a right to retell and interpret their myths freely? If Harry Potter is our mythology, then I say we have just as much a right as Jo to tell Newt Scamander's story - or any other wizarding story, for that matter.
Of course, this doesn't mean we can't be excited for the Fantastic Beasts movie. I think at least half of what's making it so exciting is the excitement - the nostalgic feeling of anticipating something that we will all get to experience together. The speculation and countdowns and trailers and midnight premieres. After all, it is a retelling, a new myth, and if nothing else, is just as valid as any fan fic. Obviously, it will be a very beautifully produced and cinematically spectacular story, and I think it is completely deserving of our enthusiasm.
So while I am just as uncontrollably excited about the movie as anyone else, I think it's an opportunity to really think about how we relate to the Potter 'verse. Because it's so fantastically different from the way we think about just about any other fandom.
I'd love to hear anyone else's thoughts about this, so please feed the comment box!
Goodnight, bloglings
If you haven't already heard that J.K. Rowling is writing the screenplay for a new movie based on a Hogwarts textbook, then kindly locate the exit to this blog. Unless of course you have a legitimate reason. Like your internet was down. Or you were off mountain-climbing. Or scuba-diving. Or-
No, there really aren't any other excuses.
This is the biggest news to hit the Potter fandom since we found out that Jo had written The Cuckoo's Calling under all of our noses. In fact, it's bigger than that. Although the shock value of that revelation was high, since the book had been out for months already, this is so much more important.
This is our world - the place where we learned to imagine, where we learned to be brave, loyal, ambitious and wise, and where we learned to be passionate and unabashedly enthusiastic about the things that we love, and to stand up for what we believe in.
And we're going to go back. Which, on the surface, is a strange thing to be jumping-up-and-down-in-our-chairs excited about. Because ... we never really left. Everyone who owns the books or DVDs, or has access to a library or the internet, can plunge back into Harry's world and revisit the stories anytime they like. Heck, we've been doing it since the minute we finished Book 7.
But this is new content, a new story, a new part of the Wizarding world, not just about Harry - which is what makes it so exciting, right? Well, as long as we have had fan fiction, fan art and wizard rock, we've had new content. We've been exploring new facets of Harry's universe since before Jo even finished writing the series. I'm sure, if you dig deep enough, there is wizarding fan fiction set in New York City in the roaring twenties. Maybe even a fic or two about Newt Scamander.
The difference, of course, is that this movie will be written by Jo herself, so it is 100% canon. Unlike fanfic, it's "what really happened"...within a completely made-up story. Uh. Right.
Here's my thing: Potter fans have done things with the HP universe that were utterly unprecedented in literature. (The only distant comparison would be the ways people have interpreted and used the Bible over the centuries.) We don't just enjoy this world - we live in it. We roleplay and write and sing and do ALL the things within the wizarding universe. We have created new characters and completely rewritten the Harry Potter books from different viewpoints. So, I mean, ... how much does it really matter what is canon and what isn't?
At this point, doesn't this universe belong more to us than it does to J.K. Rowling?
Collectively, we have certainly written more words, plotted more stories, and spent more time in it than she has. Of course, it would not exist without her original creation. But then, the myths of the world had to have been thought up by someone at some point too, right? And would we deny that the people of a certain culture are the owners of their respective myths - and have a right to retell and interpret their myths freely? If Harry Potter is our mythology, then I say we have just as much a right as Jo to tell Newt Scamander's story - or any other wizarding story, for that matter.
Of course, this doesn't mean we can't be excited for the Fantastic Beasts movie. I think at least half of what's making it so exciting is the excitement - the nostalgic feeling of anticipating something that we will all get to experience together. The speculation and countdowns and trailers and midnight premieres. After all, it is a retelling, a new myth, and if nothing else, is just as valid as any fan fic. Obviously, it will be a very beautifully produced and cinematically spectacular story, and I think it is completely deserving of our enthusiasm.
So while I am just as uncontrollably excited about the movie as anyone else, I think it's an opportunity to really think about how we relate to the Potter 'verse. Because it's so fantastically different from the way we think about just about any other fandom.
I'd love to hear anyone else's thoughts about this, so please feed the comment box!
Goodnight, bloglings
Sunday 8 September 2013
Week 35: Not 36
Sometimes I hate the idea of listing excuses and explanations at the beginning of a late blog post, but other times I remember that one of the many purposes of this blog is to serve as a snapshot of my life, to be looked back on in the future. And these past few weeks, the major theme in my life has been busyness to the point of exhaustion.
This blog post should have gone up on September 1st or 2nd. Right now, I should be writing the post for week 36. But there was packing and working and garage sale-ing and more packing and horse showing, and then driving and moving and unpacking and shopping and a new house and a new schedule and buses and a wedding and rain and friends and textbook-buying and basically just everything at once.
And all though that's all done, there is still homework and reading and classes and quidditch practice and cooking and cleaning and not even close to enough hours in the day for all of it. So, dear blog readers (and future self who is definitely going to look back on these) I hope you'll excuse me while I spend the next little while finding my feet.
Right now, I feel as though the tide has come up far sooner than expected, and the desolate expanse of soft sand I was walking on is suddenly several feet under water. Cold, salty, frothy water; waves that knock me over and pull me down. I know that I can swim; I even know that I like swimming. But I've had my feet swept out from under me and right now, I'm not too sure which way is up.
I'll do my best to post again tomorrow, and that should put me back on schedule. Maybe help me feel a little bit more stable as I get pulled along by this crazy current.
Just keep swimming, bloglings
This blog post should have gone up on September 1st or 2nd. Right now, I should be writing the post for week 36. But there was packing and working and garage sale-ing and more packing and horse showing, and then driving and moving and unpacking and shopping and a new house and a new schedule and buses and a wedding and rain and friends and textbook-buying and basically just everything at once.
And all though that's all done, there is still homework and reading and classes and quidditch practice and cooking and cleaning and not even close to enough hours in the day for all of it. So, dear blog readers (and future self who is definitely going to look back on these) I hope you'll excuse me while I spend the next little while finding my feet.
Right now, I feel as though the tide has come up far sooner than expected, and the desolate expanse of soft sand I was walking on is suddenly several feet under water. Cold, salty, frothy water; waves that knock me over and pull me down. I know that I can swim; I even know that I like swimming. But I've had my feet swept out from under me and right now, I'm not too sure which way is up.
I'll do my best to post again tomorrow, and that should put me back on schedule. Maybe help me feel a little bit more stable as I get pulled along by this crazy current.
Just keep swimming, bloglings
Monday 26 August 2013
Week 34: Lists
I think it's a pretty safe bet that the past twelve months have held more stress for me than the preceding 18 and a half years combined. I mean, most of the posts on this blog were born out of some stressful situation or another. And while I'm a generally happy person, and don't feel that stress or anxiety is currently impacting my life in a big, significant way, it is something that is incorporated into my day-to-day thinking.
I could probably write thousands of words about the things that I think are behind my stress. I mean, really behind it. But once I've battled my way through a particularly rough patch, like just now, the only thing I want to do is sleep. So I'm going to talk a bit about how I cope with stress day-to-day, and then I'm gonna sleep. Because sleep fights stress. I think?
I'm not quite sure how I discovered it, but my go-to response when I notice I'm stressed is to make lists. Actually, I think this skill just sorta spontaneously evolved in symbiosis with my increasing stress levels. Which is pretty cool. I mean, websites and counsellors and those little booklets they give you at frosh orientation are all fine and good (and can be really really helpful) but it's great to know that my mind came up with a way to help itself.
Anyways, so yes. Lists. I think this started out as a mental checklist to help me fall asleep - a way of addressing all the stressful things in my life at the moment so that my brain might stop obsessing over them for five minutes and let me drift off.
But as stress became a more round-the-clock sorta thing, these lists turned into actual to-do lists. Or more like, to-worry-about lists. Some of the items are things I can do immediately, or tomorrow, and some of them I won't be able to do anything about for a few weeks - or forever. But either way, having them listed out is like installing a filing cabinet in my brain. Instead of a messy jumble of ideas and memories and reminders and worries, each of my stressors has its own place. This makes it easy to deal with each of them individually - divide and conquer!
Plus, the methodical process of finding pen, paper and a flat surface, and writing out entry after entry, is pretty soothing, and can really help me come down from the edge of a panic attack.
During the semester my desk is littered with sticky notes (that have usually lost their stick) telling me the things I should be thinking about. Each on their own line - each in their own time.
Ok that was corny as hell. I should probably apologize. And also go to bed.
But seriously. I'm not trying to suggest a way for others to deal with their stress here - although I wish I knew enough to do that, cause stress freaking sucks. I just wanted to take a sec to appreciate that I have a strategy that generally works kinda great. I think I'm pretty lucky.
Goodnight, bloglings
I could probably write thousands of words about the things that I think are behind my stress. I mean, really behind it. But once I've battled my way through a particularly rough patch, like just now, the only thing I want to do is sleep. So I'm going to talk a bit about how I cope with stress day-to-day, and then I'm gonna sleep. Because sleep fights stress. I think?
I'm not quite sure how I discovered it, but my go-to response when I notice I'm stressed is to make lists. Actually, I think this skill just sorta spontaneously evolved in symbiosis with my increasing stress levels. Which is pretty cool. I mean, websites and counsellors and those little booklets they give you at frosh orientation are all fine and good (and can be really really helpful) but it's great to know that my mind came up with a way to help itself.
Anyways, so yes. Lists. I think this started out as a mental checklist to help me fall asleep - a way of addressing all the stressful things in my life at the moment so that my brain might stop obsessing over them for five minutes and let me drift off.
But as stress became a more round-the-clock sorta thing, these lists turned into actual to-do lists. Or more like, to-worry-about lists. Some of the items are things I can do immediately, or tomorrow, and some of them I won't be able to do anything about for a few weeks - or forever. But either way, having them listed out is like installing a filing cabinet in my brain. Instead of a messy jumble of ideas and memories and reminders and worries, each of my stressors has its own place. This makes it easy to deal with each of them individually - divide and conquer!
Plus, the methodical process of finding pen, paper and a flat surface, and writing out entry after entry, is pretty soothing, and can really help me come down from the edge of a panic attack.
During the semester my desk is littered with sticky notes (that have usually lost their stick) telling me the things I should be thinking about. Each on their own line - each in their own time.
Ok that was corny as hell. I should probably apologize. And also go to bed.
But seriously. I'm not trying to suggest a way for others to deal with their stress here - although I wish I knew enough to do that, cause stress freaking sucks. I just wanted to take a sec to appreciate that I have a strategy that generally works kinda great. I think I'm pretty lucky.
Goodnight, bloglings
Sunday 18 August 2013
Week 33: Boxes and Updates
Because I'm making a concentrated effort to get this blog back on schedule, I have neither the time nor the energy for anything profound tonight. Although, if you think hard enough about anything, there is probably something profound to be gleaned from it.
I'll leave that bit up to you.
In the last few hours, my childhood bedroom - and much of the surrounding house - has devolved into a swirling vortex of cardboard boxes and chaos. I guess I was not as prepared for the move back to school as I thought I was. But regardless of how much of a disaster it is .... tomorrow, we ride at dawn!
We being myself, my dad, and a minivan packed to the gills.
Luckily, this is only phase one. The plan this week is to move and assemble most of my furniture, and paint one of my new white walls a nice tumblr blue. Yes, I'm going to have a tumblr-esque accent wall in my bedroom. What? You've never abused the virtually-unlimited painting privileges bestowed by a well-meaning but oblivious landlord?
After a few days in my new house, I'll begrudgingly return to Privet Drive to finish up a few last shifts at work and pack up the rest of my things. And then, the countdown starts. As of Labour Day, I'll be living on my own - well not quite, but at least I'll be living with housemates who have seen every episode of Friends and use Harry Potter references in their everyday vocabulary.
Although this summer has been worlds away from last summer, in terms of, well, everything, I can't help but feel some familiar tugs at my heart while packing up.
The first time around, packing meant the end of an era, and knowing that nothing would be the same. It wasn't so much the fear of missing people and places as it was the fear of missing a time - a childhood summer is something that can never really be revisited.
This past week, the months of anticipation about getting back to Hogwarts, back to "my world", have started to give way to the suggestion of missing people and places here at home. Not a lot, definitely not a lot. A select few. (If I learned anything this year, it was that close friends are a quality-over-quantity sort of commodity).
And maybe it's living in a real house, paying rent and having a drivers licence, but I can't help but feel as though there is less and less tying me here. Honestly, I'm not sure I'll be spending another summer here. And that is both thrilling beyond belief and heart-wrenching to think about. Because while I have (almost totally) gotten over the romanticized teenage summer story, there are those few people, those places, that I just can't shake.
So, in summary: packing, moving, anticipating new and exciting things, and anticipating sad and heart-breaking things, but mostly being super freaking grateful that I have hella people to love (and people who love me) in a lot of places.
Goodnight, bloglings
I'll leave that bit up to you.
In the last few hours, my childhood bedroom - and much of the surrounding house - has devolved into a swirling vortex of cardboard boxes and chaos. I guess I was not as prepared for the move back to school as I thought I was. But regardless of how much of a disaster it is .... tomorrow, we ride at dawn!
We being myself, my dad, and a minivan packed to the gills.
Luckily, this is only phase one. The plan this week is to move and assemble most of my furniture, and paint one of my new white walls a nice tumblr blue. Yes, I'm going to have a tumblr-esque accent wall in my bedroom. What? You've never abused the virtually-unlimited painting privileges bestowed by a well-meaning but oblivious landlord?
After a few days in my new house, I'll begrudgingly return to Privet Drive to finish up a few last shifts at work and pack up the rest of my things. And then, the countdown starts. As of Labour Day, I'll be living on my own - well not quite, but at least I'll be living with housemates who have seen every episode of Friends and use Harry Potter references in their everyday vocabulary.
Although this summer has been worlds away from last summer, in terms of, well, everything, I can't help but feel some familiar tugs at my heart while packing up.
The first time around, packing meant the end of an era, and knowing that nothing would be the same. It wasn't so much the fear of missing people and places as it was the fear of missing a time - a childhood summer is something that can never really be revisited.
This past week, the months of anticipation about getting back to Hogwarts, back to "my world", have started to give way to the suggestion of missing people and places here at home. Not a lot, definitely not a lot. A select few. (If I learned anything this year, it was that close friends are a quality-over-quantity sort of commodity).
And maybe it's living in a real house, paying rent and having a drivers licence, but I can't help but feel as though there is less and less tying me here. Honestly, I'm not sure I'll be spending another summer here. And that is both thrilling beyond belief and heart-wrenching to think about. Because while I have (almost totally) gotten over the romanticized teenage summer story, there are those few people, those places, that I just can't shake.
So, in summary: packing, moving, anticipating new and exciting things, and anticipating sad and heart-breaking things, but mostly being super freaking grateful that I have hella people to love (and people who love me) in a lot of places.
Goodnight, bloglings
Friday 16 August 2013
Week 32: Deep Breaths
Lately I've been catching myself taking a lot of deep breaths. It's not like I'm short of breath - I can breathe just fine. My lungs aren't slacking off and the air around here is as clean as can be.
It happens when there's too much going on. And it happens when the lack of everything becomes too much to bear.
It happens when I miss the past so much that I'll do anything to keep my present from moving forward. It happens when my heart is already beating over-time, as if the space between now and the future is a race.
It happens when I wish the room was filled with other breaths, fast and slow and feeling. It happens when I wish that I could blow a giant bubble and just float away inside, alone.
It happens when the moment is nothing else but the crowd, the screams, the lyrics. It happens when the real world turns on the house lights and shows us all ourselves.
It happens when I stop myself from lashing out, shouting back. It happens after, when my throat is searing because those words burn me as much as they burn you.
It happens when this little place makes me itch to break down the walls. It happens when the cool air outside chills my chest right through.
It happens a lot, lately. In and out and in and out. Filling up my lungs with the air that once filled a million other pairs. The air that once started speeches and sustained kisses and in one sharp intake was the last.
In
and
out
and
in
and
out.
It happens a lot, but at least
it happens.
It happens when there's too much going on. And it happens when the lack of everything becomes too much to bear.
It happens when I miss the past so much that I'll do anything to keep my present from moving forward. It happens when my heart is already beating over-time, as if the space between now and the future is a race.
It happens when I wish the room was filled with other breaths, fast and slow and feeling. It happens when I wish that I could blow a giant bubble and just float away inside, alone.
It happens when the moment is nothing else but the crowd, the screams, the lyrics. It happens when the real world turns on the house lights and shows us all ourselves.
It happens when I stop myself from lashing out, shouting back. It happens after, when my throat is searing because those words burn me as much as they burn you.
It happens when this little place makes me itch to break down the walls. It happens when the cool air outside chills my chest right through.
It happens a lot, lately. In and out and in and out. Filling up my lungs with the air that once filled a million other pairs. The air that once started speeches and sustained kisses and in one sharp intake was the last.
In
and
out
and
in
and
out.
It happens a lot, but at least
it happens.
Saturday 10 August 2013
Week 31: On Fangirls and Trust
If we are fans/subscribers of similar people on YouTube - and let's face it, if you're here there's a good chance we are friends as a a direct result of following the same people - then you will probably know that in the past few weeks, there has been a lot of STUFF happening in this community. Good stuff and bad stuff, and ... other stuff.
So we all know that the relationship between content creator and content consumer on YT is completely unique. Some creators can rightly be called (internet) celebrities, while others, making equally good content, are nowhere near that popular. But in either case, we don't see them the same way we movie stars or Top 40 musicians. The line between fan and creator is very blurred - we see our favourite YouTubers as real people, not just beautiful faces or infectious voices or famous names.
Why? Not because we are delusional fans, convinced that we "know" them - we see them as real people because they share with us the things that make them real people. Their ups and downs, their insecurities and their favourite colour and the last book they read and the cute thing their puppy did and they way their voice cracks after a weekend of partying.
Whether they make vlogs or music or whatever else, their art is inextricably linked to their everyday life. And when someone's videos resonate with you, when you allow them to have meaning for you, you become, to some degree emotionally invested in their art - and by extension, their life. And creators who interact with their audience, who value the contributions of their audience towards the conversation that is their videos, become invested in their viewers as well.
This connection, this investment, is what the YouTube community was built upon. It's the reason that we all feel that sense of belonging and acceptance when we're among other video creators and viewers. It's the reason that amazing things like Project for Awesome and VidCon happen. It's the reason we have friends around the world. It is, overall, a Good Thing.
But like all good and precious things, this connection can, of course, be broken. If a YouTube creator does something to lose the trust and the emotional investment of their audience, then they lose their audience.
(As an aside: If a pop star were to do something similar, they would probably not lose their entire audience. Why? Because as an audience, we don't see their art intertwined with their life. We don't see what makes them real, relatable people. And so we trust them less - and thus, there is less to be broken.)
And layered on top of the fan/creator dynamic is the issue of gender. A lot of well-know YouTubers have largely female audiences, who are belittled as "fangirls" - with the implication that their dedication or trust in a YouTuber is superficial or silly. It's ingrained in our society that women's emotions are not as valid as men's; that they are over-the-top, irrational, and motivated by hormones and mood swings rather than reason and value. And nowhere is this more apparent than in the way society treats teenage girls.
The world is sort of an awful place to be a teenage girl; they are programmed to hate their bodies and each other, their emotions are mocked, their opinions invalidated, and you can forget about independent decision-making. Consequently, it's really difficult for girls to form healthy connections with, well, anyone.
And then along comes YouTube. A platform for interacting that, while it definitely has issues, is somewhat less antagonistic towards girls than the IRL world. The YT world (at least, the one I'm in) is largely comprised of younger people, and so maintains slightly lower levels of misogyny than the real world, which is dominated by our parents' generation. The anonymity of YouTube means that viewers who are girls can be enthusiastic, emotional, opinionated and in general act like real humans, without being attacked and shot down the way they are IRL.
(I'm not saying YouTube is some wonderful equality paradise - there are A Whole Lot of problems faced by anyone who is not male in the community. But as a teenage girl and also a YT viewer, it is far easier to care about stuff here than to care about stuff IRL.)
And so, teenage girls, who find it so difficult to connect with people in their everyday lives, find themselves forming connections on YouTube. Whether it's someone they find charming and attractive or someone whose art they admire and aspire to (or more likely both), they become emotionally invested, just like any other viewer, in both the content and the creator.
And that emotional investment should not be mocked or put down or deemed dangerous - it's really actually sort of beautiful. Connections with people are how we grow and mature and learn more about ourselves. They are, as stated above, Good Things.
When a creator breaks the trust of their audience, it's really awful. When that audience is largely comprised of teenage girls, as many popular YouTubers' audiences are - it's really really awful. Because from about the age of 13, girls are constantly having their trust broken. Their trust that their bodies can look like the pictures in magazines. Their trust that they can actually have any job they want. Their trust that their voices will be listened to just as much as the voices of their male peers. Their trust that the world sees them as people.
All of these things, teenage girls learn, are not the case.
But because they are wonderful and strong and really, really brave, teenage girls persist in caring about things. They persist in shouting and having their voice heard. They persist in forming connections, even though they know that trust is so easily broken.
People argue that events like this are grim warnings. That when a "fangirl" puts her trust into a musician - whose music is the only thing that lets her fall asleep at night, who tells her she's awesome and thanks her for supporting his career - and he turns out to be a complete asshole, that it's preparation for the real world. For all the other people who will break her heart. They argue that this will teach girls not to "obsess" over someone they don't actually know.
The thing is, it's not a warning. As anyone who has spent 5 minutes as a teenage girl can tell you, it's just a confirmation of what they already knew. Just the very latest in a string of people who have broken their trust.
And we have to hope, we have to hope with all our might, that once this is over, they will still have trust to give.
Thanks for trusting me, bloglings
So we all know that the relationship between content creator and content consumer on YT is completely unique. Some creators can rightly be called (internet) celebrities, while others, making equally good content, are nowhere near that popular. But in either case, we don't see them the same way we movie stars or Top 40 musicians. The line between fan and creator is very blurred - we see our favourite YouTubers as real people, not just beautiful faces or infectious voices or famous names.
Why? Not because we are delusional fans, convinced that we "know" them - we see them as real people because they share with us the things that make them real people. Their ups and downs, their insecurities and their favourite colour and the last book they read and the cute thing their puppy did and they way their voice cracks after a weekend of partying.
Whether they make vlogs or music or whatever else, their art is inextricably linked to their everyday life. And when someone's videos resonate with you, when you allow them to have meaning for you, you become, to some degree emotionally invested in their art - and by extension, their life. And creators who interact with their audience, who value the contributions of their audience towards the conversation that is their videos, become invested in their viewers as well.
This connection, this investment, is what the YouTube community was built upon. It's the reason that we all feel that sense of belonging and acceptance when we're among other video creators and viewers. It's the reason that amazing things like Project for Awesome and VidCon happen. It's the reason we have friends around the world. It is, overall, a Good Thing.
But like all good and precious things, this connection can, of course, be broken. If a YouTube creator does something to lose the trust and the emotional investment of their audience, then they lose their audience.
(As an aside: If a pop star were to do something similar, they would probably not lose their entire audience. Why? Because as an audience, we don't see their art intertwined with their life. We don't see what makes them real, relatable people. And so we trust them less - and thus, there is less to be broken.)
And layered on top of the fan/creator dynamic is the issue of gender. A lot of well-know YouTubers have largely female audiences, who are belittled as "fangirls" - with the implication that their dedication or trust in a YouTuber is superficial or silly. It's ingrained in our society that women's emotions are not as valid as men's; that they are over-the-top, irrational, and motivated by hormones and mood swings rather than reason and value. And nowhere is this more apparent than in the way society treats teenage girls.
The world is sort of an awful place to be a teenage girl; they are programmed to hate their bodies and each other, their emotions are mocked, their opinions invalidated, and you can forget about independent decision-making. Consequently, it's really difficult for girls to form healthy connections with, well, anyone.
And then along comes YouTube. A platform for interacting that, while it definitely has issues, is somewhat less antagonistic towards girls than the IRL world. The YT world (at least, the one I'm in) is largely comprised of younger people, and so maintains slightly lower levels of misogyny than the real world, which is dominated by our parents' generation. The anonymity of YouTube means that viewers who are girls can be enthusiastic, emotional, opinionated and in general act like real humans, without being attacked and shot down the way they are IRL.
(I'm not saying YouTube is some wonderful equality paradise - there are A Whole Lot of problems faced by anyone who is not male in the community. But as a teenage girl and also a YT viewer, it is far easier to care about stuff here than to care about stuff IRL.)
And so, teenage girls, who find it so difficult to connect with people in their everyday lives, find themselves forming connections on YouTube. Whether it's someone they find charming and attractive or someone whose art they admire and aspire to (or more likely both), they become emotionally invested, just like any other viewer, in both the content and the creator.
And that emotional investment should not be mocked or put down or deemed dangerous - it's really actually sort of beautiful. Connections with people are how we grow and mature and learn more about ourselves. They are, as stated above, Good Things.
When a creator breaks the trust of their audience, it's really awful. When that audience is largely comprised of teenage girls, as many popular YouTubers' audiences are - it's really really awful. Because from about the age of 13, girls are constantly having their trust broken. Their trust that their bodies can look like the pictures in magazines. Their trust that they can actually have any job they want. Their trust that their voices will be listened to just as much as the voices of their male peers. Their trust that the world sees them as people.
All of these things, teenage girls learn, are not the case.
But because they are wonderful and strong and really, really brave, teenage girls persist in caring about things. They persist in shouting and having their voice heard. They persist in forming connections, even though they know that trust is so easily broken.
People argue that events like this are grim warnings. That when a "fangirl" puts her trust into a musician - whose music is the only thing that lets her fall asleep at night, who tells her she's awesome and thanks her for supporting his career - and he turns out to be a complete asshole, that it's preparation for the real world. For all the other people who will break her heart. They argue that this will teach girls not to "obsess" over someone they don't actually know.
The thing is, it's not a warning. As anyone who has spent 5 minutes as a teenage girl can tell you, it's just a confirmation of what they already knew. Just the very latest in a string of people who have broken their trust.
And we have to hope, we have to hope with all our might, that once this is over, they will still have trust to give.
Thanks for trusting me, bloglings
Monday 29 July 2013
Week 30: Blogging on Blogging
So like, as you may have noticed, it took me about five extra days to get a blog post up last week. I've always been a chronic procrastinator, but that was a bit shameful, even for me.
This summer has been a really strange mix of brief periods of high-energy excitement, followed by weeks and weeks of monotony. I feel like I've pretty much exhausted the topic of LeakyCon on this blog, and although that weekend did spark a lot of ideas and creative energy for me, it's more of a "doing things" energy than a "writing things" energy. And unfortunately, none of that stuff is going to be done until I get back to school, back to friends who can help make this stuff happen, back to witches and wizards and magical beasts....
Which leaves me with a whole lot of nothing to write about. Actually, that's not quite true. All of this doing nothing has left me lots of time to think about things, so I'm sure I could craft an intelligent, meaningful post if I really sat down and tried. The problem, then, is the trying. Having the discipline to sit down and write, sometime before 11pm, and then forcing myself to re-read and polish my writing, would be a really great life choice on my part. As someone who hopes to one day be able to make a living writing things, you'd think I'd be a little bit more invested in this, right?
Well, I wish I was.
Something I'd never really considered until, like, just now, was how lucky I am to have this blog. Although I sometimes think of it as a chore, or worse, a pointless, self-indulgent waste of time, it really is a privilege.
In the first place, living in a part of the world where constant, (mostly) uncensored access to the internet is available is pretty freaking great. On top of that, being able to afford my own laptop and internet service. And finally, having a voice that is heard. Of course, my voice usually doesn't reach far beyond my (amazing, wonderful, beautiful) friends and my twitter and tumblr followers - and I'm perfectly okay with that! But statistically, across the world, the average young woman doesn't have the same chances as I do to make her voice heard. She may not have the unrestricted internet that I do, or a laptop, or the freedom, as a woman of a certain race, faith or political belief, to speak her mind without fear.
So does that mean that I should guilt myself into writing something "meaningful" every single week, or putting more time into my posts, so as not to abuse my privilege? I don't think so. I think that almost everything I write on here has some meaning - and after all, it is as much a personal journal as it is a public forum, and the decision about what is meaningful is solely up to me.
I do, however, think that taking a broader view of this whole blogging thing will do me good. No, I may not be the last surviving member of a doomed civilization, desperately documenting centuries of culture. And I may not be travelling hours and hours each week to get internet access and tell the world about the political violence in my remote region. But I think I do have some sort of a duty, as a person who dedicates quite a bit of their time to writing. However I stumbled upon it, I have discovered a voice, and I just really think I need to use it.
Goodnight, bloglings
This summer has been a really strange mix of brief periods of high-energy excitement, followed by weeks and weeks of monotony. I feel like I've pretty much exhausted the topic of LeakyCon on this blog, and although that weekend did spark a lot of ideas and creative energy for me, it's more of a "doing things" energy than a "writing things" energy. And unfortunately, none of that stuff is going to be done until I get back to school, back to friends who can help make this stuff happen, back to witches and wizards and magical beasts....
Which leaves me with a whole lot of nothing to write about. Actually, that's not quite true. All of this doing nothing has left me lots of time to think about things, so I'm sure I could craft an intelligent, meaningful post if I really sat down and tried. The problem, then, is the trying. Having the discipline to sit down and write, sometime before 11pm, and then forcing myself to re-read and polish my writing, would be a really great life choice on my part. As someone who hopes to one day be able to make a living writing things, you'd think I'd be a little bit more invested in this, right?
Well, I wish I was.
Something I'd never really considered until, like, just now, was how lucky I am to have this blog. Although I sometimes think of it as a chore, or worse, a pointless, self-indulgent waste of time, it really is a privilege.
In the first place, living in a part of the world where constant, (mostly) uncensored access to the internet is available is pretty freaking great. On top of that, being able to afford my own laptop and internet service. And finally, having a voice that is heard. Of course, my voice usually doesn't reach far beyond my (amazing, wonderful, beautiful) friends and my twitter and tumblr followers - and I'm perfectly okay with that! But statistically, across the world, the average young woman doesn't have the same chances as I do to make her voice heard. She may not have the unrestricted internet that I do, or a laptop, or the freedom, as a woman of a certain race, faith or political belief, to speak her mind without fear.
So does that mean that I should guilt myself into writing something "meaningful" every single week, or putting more time into my posts, so as not to abuse my privilege? I don't think so. I think that almost everything I write on here has some meaning - and after all, it is as much a personal journal as it is a public forum, and the decision about what is meaningful is solely up to me.
I do, however, think that taking a broader view of this whole blogging thing will do me good. No, I may not be the last surviving member of a doomed civilization, desperately documenting centuries of culture. And I may not be travelling hours and hours each week to get internet access and tell the world about the political violence in my remote region. But I think I do have some sort of a duty, as a person who dedicates quite a bit of their time to writing. However I stumbled upon it, I have discovered a voice, and I just really think I need to use it.
Goodnight, bloglings
Thursday 25 July 2013
Week 29: Catching Up and Falling Down
Well internet, it has certainly been a week. I have been putting off this post for days because although I have a lot of things to reflect on, I don't have nearly enough energy to do them justice. I'm hoping that getting something up here will help quiet my mind a bit - one less expectation (even if it is just an expectation I created for myself) that I've left unfulfilled.
Although I'm sure you would only have to flip back a few months to find my blog full of school-induced stress and desperate longing for summer, it has come to my attention that I'm actually looking forward to getting back to school. A four-month summer break is great - if you have other things to fill it besides work, sleep, and tumblr. LeakyCon was a wonderful, magical escape from real life. But now that I'm home, in a lonely muggle town and quite without friends, fandom or otherwise, who I can physically hang out with, summer pretty much sucks.
Both my mind and my facebook inbox are abuzz with plans for the fall, and I can't decide if it's making all of this better or worse. Of course, the excitement leading up to fandom events and friend reunions is a lot of fun, and a great distraction - but the disconnect between the anticipated future and the actual present is this ocean that I run out of breath trying to cross.
Fortunately, there is another kind of escape. A world that, while fictional, is much easier to fall into than the plans for my own future. OotP has always been my favourite Harry Potter book - a preference, I have discovered, that is fairly uncommon. Although I first read it when I was far younger than 15 year-old Harry, his struggles always got to me in a way that those of 11 year-old or 17 year-old Harry's did not.
Now, of course, I am once again years apart from OotP Harry, but I don't think I've ever felt closer to him. I'm about to sound like a big ol' walking cliché, but I really identify with the boy who finds himself oppressed by the heat, his family, and the stifling suburban mindset of those around him. Despite the uncertain circumstances he finds himself in, Harry's delight upon being reunited with his friends comes across so clearly that my heart almost leapt out of my chest during my recent reading of it.
Although I know the plot, all its twists and turns, by heart, this book remains a wonderful world to fall into. A world where I know that no matter how frustrating the Dursleys are, and no matter how hopeless the dementors make the world seem, the Order will come to the rescue, we'll go back to Hogwarts, and the adventures will continue.
Goodnight, bloglings
Although I'm sure you would only have to flip back a few months to find my blog full of school-induced stress and desperate longing for summer, it has come to my attention that I'm actually looking forward to getting back to school. A four-month summer break is great - if you have other things to fill it besides work, sleep, and tumblr. LeakyCon was a wonderful, magical escape from real life. But now that I'm home, in a lonely muggle town and quite without friends, fandom or otherwise, who I can physically hang out with, summer pretty much sucks.
Both my mind and my facebook inbox are abuzz with plans for the fall, and I can't decide if it's making all of this better or worse. Of course, the excitement leading up to fandom events and friend reunions is a lot of fun, and a great distraction - but the disconnect between the anticipated future and the actual present is this ocean that I run out of breath trying to cross.
Fortunately, there is another kind of escape. A world that, while fictional, is much easier to fall into than the plans for my own future. OotP has always been my favourite Harry Potter book - a preference, I have discovered, that is fairly uncommon. Although I first read it when I was far younger than 15 year-old Harry, his struggles always got to me in a way that those of 11 year-old or 17 year-old Harry's did not.
Now, of course, I am once again years apart from OotP Harry, but I don't think I've ever felt closer to him. I'm about to sound like a big ol' walking cliché, but I really identify with the boy who finds himself oppressed by the heat, his family, and the stifling suburban mindset of those around him. Despite the uncertain circumstances he finds himself in, Harry's delight upon being reunited with his friends comes across so clearly that my heart almost leapt out of my chest during my recent reading of it.
Although I know the plot, all its twists and turns, by heart, this book remains a wonderful world to fall into. A world where I know that no matter how frustrating the Dursleys are, and no matter how hopeless the dementors make the world seem, the Order will come to the rescue, we'll go back to Hogwarts, and the adventures will continue.
Goodnight, bloglings
Monday 22 July 2013
Week 28: The Fandom's Calling
This weekend, as the Harry Potter fandom continued to recover from LeakyCon Portland/ started getting excited about LeakyCon London/ continued to moan about not being able to attend a convention, something happened. It shook us all up, and ignited sparks we had long considered extinguished.
In case you somehow haven't heard, J.K. Rowling was revealed to be the author of a well-reviewed but not commercially successful crime novel, The Cuckoo's Calling. Writing under the pseudonym Robert Galbraith allowed her to explore a new genre and get honest feedback, without the pressure and insane hype that surrounds her every move.
Around 7pm I was in the middle of a casual Saturday night Disney movie, when I picked up my phone and lazily dragged my thumb down to refresh Twitter. And then I saw it. A tweet from the Leaky Cauldron account - which, to be honest, is not an account I expect breaking news from, simply because Potter news is hard to come by in 2013.
It said something along the lines of "This is not a drill. There is a new J.K. Rowling book out." Before I could catch my breath, my feed was flooded with the news. I paused my movie and dug into the story of how a linguistics professional used software that found extreme similarities between TCC and Harry Potter. (Which I'm still nerding out about, btw).
When I had finally assured myself that this wasn't, in fact, a dream, I was left wondering what to do. I couldn't simply go back to my lazy evening.
Of course, I wanted to get my hands on the book right away. My town's last bookshop closed years ago, leaving Walmart as my only option. I had no car, but a garage full of bicycles in various states of disrepair, and after all, it was only a few kilometers down the road. The fact that I hadn't ridden a bike in years barely entered into the mental calculations.
Fuelled by the pure energy that Harry Potter fans around the globe were radiating, I set off. After an exhausting, painful and slightly frightening journey (the shortcut through the woods behind the catholic school revealed some interesting artifacts) I arrived at the mothership of consumerism.
Of course, they didn't have it. I would later learn that almost nobody had it - the book had not been successful enough to earn a place on the shelves of stores that also sold everything from fishing rods to fruit loops. So after consoling myself with some ice cream (because what retail experience is complete without McDonald's?) I headed home.
By this time, the news had reached nearly all of my fandom friends, and the freaking out commenced. I watched as friends in bigger cities dashed to their local bookstores and emerged victorious, clutching what we would all come to realize were now rare first editions.
Unable to wait until I could get myself to a bookstore, I made my first ever ebook purchase and started reading it on my iPhone. Although I tried to tune out the buzz, I couldn't fully tear myself away from twitter and tumblr and the full-on fandom freak out that was happening.
As a fandom, we have had plenty to get excited about lately. From the WWoHP expansion, to Leaky, to new book covers - not to mention the shiny new fandoms we have all welcomed into our hearts. The Harry Potter fandom hasn't felt absent or asleep - just spread thinner, with our energy being directed to SO MANY new things.
But this - this was different. This was everybody finding out at once. This was frantic tweets and texts in all caps. This was stop what you are doing right now sorta news. This was just like the good old days. With everyone caring, for at least a while, about the exact same thing. Which is really freaking cool.
In the big picture - like, the BIG picture - this book isn't all that important. And our community, although it has certainly grown, isn't too special either. But to me, and to a lot of you as well, that moment was really important. Because this thing was special to us. In that moment (.... I swear we were fandom) there were a bunch of other people who cared about the same thing as us. And their passion, their enthusiasm and uncontrollable excitement was enough that it didn't matter how inconsequential all of it really was. It didn't matter that this book won't be as good as Harry. It didn't matter that we might be teased by friends and family for our passion. It didn't matter that we are so spread out across the globe. It didn't matter that I suffered horrible scratches on my hands from prickly plants while trying to navigate the shortcut to Walmart.
All that mattered was our passion. And that it was still there - perhaps tucked away under a layer of Lizzie Bennet Diaries squeeing, or TFioS feels, or Sherlock shipping - but still, undeniably, there.
Goodnight, bloglings.
In case you somehow haven't heard, J.K. Rowling was revealed to be the author of a well-reviewed but not commercially successful crime novel, The Cuckoo's Calling. Writing under the pseudonym Robert Galbraith allowed her to explore a new genre and get honest feedback, without the pressure and insane hype that surrounds her every move.
Around 7pm I was in the middle of a casual Saturday night Disney movie, when I picked up my phone and lazily dragged my thumb down to refresh Twitter. And then I saw it. A tweet from the Leaky Cauldron account - which, to be honest, is not an account I expect breaking news from, simply because Potter news is hard to come by in 2013.
It said something along the lines of "This is not a drill. There is a new J.K. Rowling book out." Before I could catch my breath, my feed was flooded with the news. I paused my movie and dug into the story of how a linguistics professional used software that found extreme similarities between TCC and Harry Potter. (Which I'm still nerding out about, btw).
When I had finally assured myself that this wasn't, in fact, a dream, I was left wondering what to do. I couldn't simply go back to my lazy evening.
Of course, I wanted to get my hands on the book right away. My town's last bookshop closed years ago, leaving Walmart as my only option. I had no car, but a garage full of bicycles in various states of disrepair, and after all, it was only a few kilometers down the road. The fact that I hadn't ridden a bike in years barely entered into the mental calculations.
Fuelled by the pure energy that Harry Potter fans around the globe were radiating, I set off. After an exhausting, painful and slightly frightening journey (the shortcut through the woods behind the catholic school revealed some interesting artifacts) I arrived at the mothership of consumerism.
Of course, they didn't have it. I would later learn that almost nobody had it - the book had not been successful enough to earn a place on the shelves of stores that also sold everything from fishing rods to fruit loops. So after consoling myself with some ice cream (because what retail experience is complete without McDonald's?) I headed home.
By this time, the news had reached nearly all of my fandom friends, and the freaking out commenced. I watched as friends in bigger cities dashed to their local bookstores and emerged victorious, clutching what we would all come to realize were now rare first editions.
Unable to wait until I could get myself to a bookstore, I made my first ever ebook purchase and started reading it on my iPhone. Although I tried to tune out the buzz, I couldn't fully tear myself away from twitter and tumblr and the full-on fandom freak out that was happening.
As a fandom, we have had plenty to get excited about lately. From the WWoHP expansion, to Leaky, to new book covers - not to mention the shiny new fandoms we have all welcomed into our hearts. The Harry Potter fandom hasn't felt absent or asleep - just spread thinner, with our energy being directed to SO MANY new things.
But this - this was different. This was everybody finding out at once. This was frantic tweets and texts in all caps. This was stop what you are doing right now sorta news. This was just like the good old days. With everyone caring, for at least a while, about the exact same thing. Which is really freaking cool.
In the big picture - like, the BIG picture - this book isn't all that important. And our community, although it has certainly grown, isn't too special either. But to me, and to a lot of you as well, that moment was really important. Because this thing was special to us. In that moment (.... I swear we were fandom) there were a bunch of other people who cared about the same thing as us. And their passion, their enthusiasm and uncontrollable excitement was enough that it didn't matter how inconsequential all of it really was. It didn't matter that this book won't be as good as Harry. It didn't matter that we might be teased by friends and family for our passion. It didn't matter that we are so spread out across the globe. It didn't matter that I suffered horrible scratches on my hands from prickly plants while trying to navigate the shortcut to Walmart.
All that mattered was our passion. And that it was still there - perhaps tucked away under a layer of Lizzie Bennet Diaries squeeing, or TFioS feels, or Sherlock shipping - but still, undeniably, there.
Goodnight, bloglings.
Monday 8 July 2013
Week 27: RealLifeCon 2013
After a week of moaning and missing LeakyCon Portland, one thing really stands out for me from that weekend: I thought about stuff.
Of course there was plenty of giggling, fangirling, dancing and miscellaneous shenanigans - as well there should be. But in between all that, I had a chance to go to some panels and programming that really made me think about the values and message of Leaky in relation to the real, actual world. The world that I am now stuck back in.
Within the Lit track, I got to listen to a ton of YA authors talk about being professional writers. Writing has always been something that I've always wanted to do. I love finding just the right combination of words to say something. But for as long as I have been able to write, I've struggled with letting my words go out into the world - it feels akin to letting strangers come and wander around my brain. While I'm not sure that my skills lie in the area of YA or even fiction at all, it was wonderful to hear from these writers who made the brave, scary decision to put their words out there.
And hearing them talk candidly reminded me that these are just people - not gods. As talented and internet-famous as our favourite authors are, I think it's really important to think of them as regular people - because if they are stuck up on a pedestal, then I have no chance of ever doing what they do. While I'm not sure I'll be sending out queries any time soon, the Lit programming has re-opened that closed door in my brain marked "Be a Writer" - and allowed me to consider, maybe for the first time, that I could actually go through it.
When I wasn't LitTrack-ing (PS: that should totally be a thing) I was going to quite a few of the Harry Potter Alliance's programs. The HPA has chapters at tons of universities - including mine - but a lot of their initiatives use the internet, and the worldwide communities of fandoms, to make change IRL. The chapter at my school unfortunately announced that it was closing a the end of this school year, and I had (sadly) accepted its fate. But then, LeakyCon happened.
Although I've heard it many times before, via videos and at Leaky '12, hearing people - directors, staff, volunteers - talk about the HPA and what they are doing sort of gives me chills, in the best way. A tiny part of me will never fully accept that there are people who are harnessing the incredible energy of fandoms and doing good. Not just raising money, or spreading awareness, although they do both. The real magic is that they are turning young people into informed, empowered, motivated and passionate citizens of the world. (I'm gushing. I'm sorry.)
(No I'm not)
ANYways. Being around this kind of energy sparked an idea in the wild-idea-factory that is my brain. I'm not sure if it will be a success, I'm not even sure if it will happen. I know it will take an enormous amount of work, and several dedicated people, in addition to me. But I think I'd like to give it a go. I think I'd like to try bringing back our HPA chapter from the dead. (Not in a voldey-fetus kinda way).
I'm sure I will be documenting this journey quite a bit on this blog. It's still a tiny spark of an idea, but now that I've told you guys, it already feels so real.
So many amazing things came out of panels and workshops I went to this year. But the fangirling, squeeing and dancing will never be lesser in importance to any of that. Without those things, without the uniqueness of the Leaky spirit, I would not feel the feel I'm currently feeling - and that feel is a strong desire to make Leaky IRL. To write things and do things and sing things and pour all of that wild, passionate energy into all of it.
At Leaky, I thought about stuff. Now, I'm going to go do stuff.
Goodnight, bloglings
Of course there was plenty of giggling, fangirling, dancing and miscellaneous shenanigans - as well there should be. But in between all that, I had a chance to go to some panels and programming that really made me think about the values and message of Leaky in relation to the real, actual world. The world that I am now stuck back in.
Within the Lit track, I got to listen to a ton of YA authors talk about being professional writers. Writing has always been something that I've always wanted to do. I love finding just the right combination of words to say something. But for as long as I have been able to write, I've struggled with letting my words go out into the world - it feels akin to letting strangers come and wander around my brain. While I'm not sure that my skills lie in the area of YA or even fiction at all, it was wonderful to hear from these writers who made the brave, scary decision to put their words out there.
And hearing them talk candidly reminded me that these are just people - not gods. As talented and internet-famous as our favourite authors are, I think it's really important to think of them as regular people - because if they are stuck up on a pedestal, then I have no chance of ever doing what they do. While I'm not sure I'll be sending out queries any time soon, the Lit programming has re-opened that closed door in my brain marked "Be a Writer" - and allowed me to consider, maybe for the first time, that I could actually go through it.
When I wasn't LitTrack-ing (PS: that should totally be a thing) I was going to quite a few of the Harry Potter Alliance's programs. The HPA has chapters at tons of universities - including mine - but a lot of their initiatives use the internet, and the worldwide communities of fandoms, to make change IRL. The chapter at my school unfortunately announced that it was closing a the end of this school year, and I had (sadly) accepted its fate. But then, LeakyCon happened.
Although I've heard it many times before, via videos and at Leaky '12, hearing people - directors, staff, volunteers - talk about the HPA and what they are doing sort of gives me chills, in the best way. A tiny part of me will never fully accept that there are people who are harnessing the incredible energy of fandoms and doing good. Not just raising money, or spreading awareness, although they do both. The real magic is that they are turning young people into informed, empowered, motivated and passionate citizens of the world. (I'm gushing. I'm sorry.)
(No I'm not)
ANYways. Being around this kind of energy sparked an idea in the wild-idea-factory that is my brain. I'm not sure if it will be a success, I'm not even sure if it will happen. I know it will take an enormous amount of work, and several dedicated people, in addition to me. But I think I'd like to give it a go. I think I'd like to try bringing back our HPA chapter from the dead. (Not in a voldey-fetus kinda way).
I'm sure I will be documenting this journey quite a bit on this blog. It's still a tiny spark of an idea, but now that I've told you guys, it already feels so real.
So many amazing things came out of panels and workshops I went to this year. But the fangirling, squeeing and dancing will never be lesser in importance to any of that. Without those things, without the uniqueness of the Leaky spirit, I would not feel the feel I'm currently feeling - and that feel is a strong desire to make Leaky IRL. To write things and do things and sing things and pour all of that wild, passionate energy into all of it.
At Leaky, I thought about stuff. Now, I'm going to go do stuff.
Goodnight, bloglings
Thursday 4 July 2013
Week 26: No Amount of Coffee, No Amount of Crying - LeakyCon Portland
As I sit here, still struggling to adapt to eastern time and the distinct lack of Starbucks in my town, writing about LeakyCon 2013 seems like such a daunting task. On one hand, I could go on for ages about what LC and the fandom means to me, my thoughts on the changes and directions they are taking, and the various panels that really made me think. But trying to succinctly describe this magical weekend in one post is going to require a bit more thought - so maybe we'll leave that for a week that was not largely spent in violent emotional withdrawal.
Instead, I am going to chronicle my favourite and not-so-favourite moments from the con. With no real analysis or effort. Just a list of Things That Happened Which I Do Not Want to Forget.
1. We arrived on Wednesday, and bummed around the convention centre until they let us register (therby avoiding LineCon 1.0)
2.I twisted my ankle on the convention centre steps. Trying to take them two at a time. Yep.
3. On our way to get food, we passed two prominent members of Team StarKid. I giggled. And then I remembered I don't really care.
Thursday
4. At the last second, I decided that I was going to run the 5K anyways, because GRYFFINDOR. With a little help from my friends Advil, tensor bandages and the hotel ice machine, I managed to not permanently cripple myself. (I think).
5. The Disney sing-a-long was just the best thing. So much passion and pure enjoyment of the songs.
6. Even from seats towards the back, we were blown away by the opening ceremonies. Although my little heart almost couldn't take the references to AVPM!Ron being left all alone. Sad Joey Richter is so gut-wrenching.
7. Alex started out his set by playing King's Cross...and then BAM, SURPRISE REMUS LUPINS REUNION BEFORE OUR VERY EYES. I have more thoughts on this. But for now: ASDDHDGJDJFFL. What a special moment.
8. Everyone thought Christian was gonna play a wrock song but SURPRISE #2, he proposed to his girlfriend instead. The cutest thing.
9. I think Luke tried to crowd-surf? Did that actually happen?
Friday
9. Presentation/lecture by Corey and Julia called Making Shit Happen was really good and made me want to make ALL the things happen.
10. The Cover Up panel needed to be so much longer and more in-depth. Heck, they could have a whole conference about that topic. #ideas
11. HPA workshop totally renewed my motivation to re-start the failed HPA chapter at my school.
12. LOUNGING with Robin and Maureen was the best way to wind down after a day chock-full of panels. So much WEIRDNESS. #itsbetterthisway
13. Wrock Concert 2.0. Performances of Draco and Harry (They can move to CALIFORNIA!) and The Weapon were things I felt so good about being a part of.
14. I hugged Andrew Slack and almost made him cry when I told him how much he inspires me. That sounds like the cheesiest line ever, but it's true - the guy is actually my Dumbledore.
Saturday
15. More gratuitous Andrew Slack appreciation: his workshop (and then chilling on the floor outside for another hour just talking with a bunch of like-minded people with really interesting things to say) was not the typical Leaky energy, but really fantastic.
16. Finding Hogwarts was great, and despite making me slightly nostalgic for the early days of fandom that I wasn't around for, it really brought home how important my fandom friends are to me.
17. At some point in here I ate actual, real food. (If Portland was your first Leaky, you know nothing of the usual con starvation).
18. The ball was quite possibly the most fun I've ever had in my life. It actually felt like a dance party, and not just a night of idolizing the BNFs on stage (well, until Total Eclipse. Again, more thoughts later).
19. I Love It was permanently established as the Call Me Maybe of Leaky 2013
20. I have literally no memories of what happened after we got back to the room that night. That sounds sorta ominous, but realistically I probably fell asleep in my dress.
Sunday
21. Spent an hour lying in bed, trying to persuade myself that the end of Leaky is not the end of thr ACTUAL world.
22. We wandered the vendor room and squandered the last of our monies on wizard rock merch. I got a Save Ginny shirt, which I have been coveting FOREVA.
23. Buffy and Dr. Horrible sing-a-longs were so much fun. On the way out, we narrowly avoided colliding with Anthony Rapp and his plate of salad.
24. Adding to the list of Reasons I Want to be Lauren Bachle When I Grow Up - she helped instigate a flash mob in front of the mainstage before Pottercast/closing.
25. And then Dumbledore married Remus and Sirius and they made out in front of thousands of people. (is a sentence I never thought I'd ever be writing)
26. Moved the party to #RedRobinCon. Plotting for Orlando commenced.
Monday
27. Woke up to a video in my sub box of Meghan Tonjes reading Alex/Jason fanfic. I promise this was a real thing that happened - I was exhausted, but not THAT exhausted. (I hope)
28. Continued #StarbucksCon in the Portland airport.
29. Goodbyes. SO EMOSH.
30. Spent three hours sitting in a stuffy plane on the tarmac in SanFran...and then flew to Winnipeg. Yep. Finally stumbled into Toronto around 5 hours late. Thank god for great playlists.
...and there are many more LeakyThoughts where those came from!
Goodnight, bloglings
Instead, I am going to chronicle my favourite and not-so-favourite moments from the con. With no real analysis or effort. Just a list of Things That Happened Which I Do Not Want to Forget.
1. We arrived on Wednesday, and bummed around the convention centre until they let us register (therby avoiding LineCon 1.0)
2.I twisted my ankle on the convention centre steps. Trying to take them two at a time. Yep.
3. On our way to get food, we passed two prominent members of Team StarKid. I giggled. And then I remembered I don't really care.
Thursday
4. At the last second, I decided that I was going to run the 5K anyways, because GRYFFINDOR. With a little help from my friends Advil, tensor bandages and the hotel ice machine, I managed to not permanently cripple myself. (I think).
5. The Disney sing-a-long was just the best thing. So much passion and pure enjoyment of the songs.
6. Even from seats towards the back, we were blown away by the opening ceremonies. Although my little heart almost couldn't take the references to AVPM!Ron being left all alone. Sad Joey Richter is so gut-wrenching.
7. Alex started out his set by playing King's Cross...and then BAM, SURPRISE REMUS LUPINS REUNION BEFORE OUR VERY EYES. I have more thoughts on this. But for now: ASDDHDGJDJFFL. What a special moment.
8. Everyone thought Christian was gonna play a wrock song but SURPRISE #2, he proposed to his girlfriend instead. The cutest thing.
9. I think Luke tried to crowd-surf? Did that actually happen?
Friday
9. Presentation/lecture by Corey and Julia called Making Shit Happen was really good and made me want to make ALL the things happen.
10. The Cover Up panel needed to be so much longer and more in-depth. Heck, they could have a whole conference about that topic. #ideas
11. HPA workshop totally renewed my motivation to re-start the failed HPA chapter at my school.
12. LOUNGING with Robin and Maureen was the best way to wind down after a day chock-full of panels. So much WEIRDNESS. #itsbetterthisway
13. Wrock Concert 2.0. Performances of Draco and Harry (They can move to CALIFORNIA!) and The Weapon were things I felt so good about being a part of.
14. I hugged Andrew Slack and almost made him cry when I told him how much he inspires me. That sounds like the cheesiest line ever, but it's true - the guy is actually my Dumbledore.
Saturday
15. More gratuitous Andrew Slack appreciation: his workshop (and then chilling on the floor outside for another hour just talking with a bunch of like-minded people with really interesting things to say) was not the typical Leaky energy, but really fantastic.
16. Finding Hogwarts was great, and despite making me slightly nostalgic for the early days of fandom that I wasn't around for, it really brought home how important my fandom friends are to me.
17. At some point in here I ate actual, real food. (If Portland was your first Leaky, you know nothing of the usual con starvation).
18. The ball was quite possibly the most fun I've ever had in my life. It actually felt like a dance party, and not just a night of idolizing the BNFs on stage (well, until Total Eclipse. Again, more thoughts later).
19. I Love It was permanently established as the Call Me Maybe of Leaky 2013
20. I have literally no memories of what happened after we got back to the room that night. That sounds sorta ominous, but realistically I probably fell asleep in my dress.
Sunday
21. Spent an hour lying in bed, trying to persuade myself that the end of Leaky is not the end of thr ACTUAL world.
22. We wandered the vendor room and squandered the last of our monies on wizard rock merch. I got a Save Ginny shirt, which I have been coveting FOREVA.
23. Buffy and Dr. Horrible sing-a-longs were so much fun. On the way out, we narrowly avoided colliding with Anthony Rapp and his plate of salad.
24. Adding to the list of Reasons I Want to be Lauren Bachle When I Grow Up - she helped instigate a flash mob in front of the mainstage before Pottercast/closing.
25. And then Dumbledore married Remus and Sirius and they made out in front of thousands of people. (is a sentence I never thought I'd ever be writing)
26. Moved the party to #RedRobinCon. Plotting for Orlando commenced.
Monday
27. Woke up to a video in my sub box of Meghan Tonjes reading Alex/Jason fanfic. I promise this was a real thing that happened - I was exhausted, but not THAT exhausted. (I hope)
28. Continued #StarbucksCon in the Portland airport.
29. Goodbyes. SO EMOSH.
30. Spent three hours sitting in a stuffy plane on the tarmac in SanFran...and then flew to Winnipeg. Yep. Finally stumbled into Toronto around 5 hours late. Thank god for great playlists.
...and there are many more LeakyThoughts where those came from!
Goodnight, bloglings
Tuesday 25 June 2013
Week 25: The Calm Before the Con
One week from today, I'll be arriving back home, jet-lagged and bleary-eyed, from an amazing weekend spent with some of my favourite people on the planet. I try not to focus on this fact, because as excited as I am, I know that LeakyCon will be over far too soon. Instead, I'm doing my best to savour this lead-up, the countdown which has gone from weeks to days. But, there will be plenty of time to talk about this next week. And the week after.
This week, I'm lucky enough to be exploring Northern California; San Francisco, in both sunshine and fog, was beautiful and quirky and full of life. The bay and the sea lions, the birds and the wind, fit together like pieces of a perfect puzzle. The redwoods are humbling, sheltering an entirely separate world underneath their dense green canopies. The rolling hills and farmers fields breathe health and vitality into the communities they surround. The cacti and bright flowers are the texture of the landscape.
It's all so different - the land and the people who live it. There is so much contrast: ocean and hills, rain and sun, small spiny bushes and towering soft redwoods, rich and poor, down to earth and head-in-the-clouds. The reality is far from the movie magic, but there is something about this place. It seems to attract people from all over, from all walks of life. It has something. I just can't seem to put my finger on it.
Unfortunately I have only one more day here, before boarding a tiny plane and flying up the coast. It has really been a brief breath of fresh air - air thick with moisture and the scents of so many trees, thick with life.
Goodnight, bloglings
This week, I'm lucky enough to be exploring Northern California; San Francisco, in both sunshine and fog, was beautiful and quirky and full of life. The bay and the sea lions, the birds and the wind, fit together like pieces of a perfect puzzle. The redwoods are humbling, sheltering an entirely separate world underneath their dense green canopies. The rolling hills and farmers fields breathe health and vitality into the communities they surround. The cacti and bright flowers are the texture of the landscape.
It's all so different - the land and the people who live it. There is so much contrast: ocean and hills, rain and sun, small spiny bushes and towering soft redwoods, rich and poor, down to earth and head-in-the-clouds. The reality is far from the movie magic, but there is something about this place. It seems to attract people from all over, from all walks of life. It has something. I just can't seem to put my finger on it.
Unfortunately I have only one more day here, before boarding a tiny plane and flying up the coast. It has really been a brief breath of fresh air - air thick with moisture and the scents of so many trees, thick with life.
Goodnight, bloglings
Monday 17 June 2013
Week 24: Listen Up Tour, Toronto
As I approach the halfway point of this year-long blogging project, I've been drawing comparisons with the project I completed last year. In 2012 I took a photo every day, and it kick-started a passion for photography that had been lurking under the surface since I was very young. Freezing and capturing a moment is about as close to magic as I think I can get. Nowadays I almost never leave the house without some sort of camera.
This desire to capture moments is nearly universal, and it's become so easy to do that it is virtually second-nature to most of us. We record things, people, places and sounds that we love. To share, to remember, or just to document our lives. And seeing one of your favourite artists, to whose songs you have a strong emotional connection, in a concert you have waited for for months, certainly merits being documented. Nobody wants to forget that moment - and most of us want to be able to relive it.
I get this. I totally do.
I understand that a good show, a good song, can carry people, holding them up well after the band stops playing and they file out into the night. Giving them something to reach for, to hang on to when the rest of the world is spinning.
I understand the need to document these moments, to grab them out of the air, paste them into your scrapbook and close the cover before they escape. To have something to return to, a portal back into that feeling, that day, that song.
(warning - I'm about to sound like your dad)
But it's a sad day for music when the recording, the capturing of the moment, takes precedence over the moment itself. When a person who is fortunate enough to stand three feet in front of their hero, chooses to experience the moment via a three-inch screen instead.
I suppose, as I was jostled and squashed and pushed into any vaguely person-sized gap that happened to open, that being behind a taller-than-me person who decided to film every single song was pure bad luck. If I had lucked into an uninterrupted view, or at least one not obscured by a video camera at least 70% of the time, I would not be complaining.
Despite my struggles, I can't bring myself to condemn those who want to film and photograph a show like this. Although their choice might impact my experience, isn't that the point of participating in the ritual of live music? A sea of individual people, breathing and moving and singing and heart-beating together - no longer individuals, but one being. Each slight movement triggering the next, each exhale the next inhale, each camera flash the blinking eye of this giant creature of passion and sweat and love.
Because I didn't take any pictures or record any pictures, I'll have to capture the memory of this fantastic show with my words.
Here they are:
Heat and people and closeness and energy and hearts beating and Harry Potter and new friends and less-new friends and giggles and tears and harmonies and Disney and passion and dancing and jumping and new songs and less-new songs and jokes and pictures and feelings and teenage dreams and having a home and not being alone. Oh, and so much love.
And sweat. A lot of sweat.
Goodnight, bloglings
This desire to capture moments is nearly universal, and it's become so easy to do that it is virtually second-nature to most of us. We record things, people, places and sounds that we love. To share, to remember, or just to document our lives. And seeing one of your favourite artists, to whose songs you have a strong emotional connection, in a concert you have waited for for months, certainly merits being documented. Nobody wants to forget that moment - and most of us want to be able to relive it.
I get this. I totally do.
I understand that a good show, a good song, can carry people, holding them up well after the band stops playing and they file out into the night. Giving them something to reach for, to hang on to when the rest of the world is spinning.
I understand the need to document these moments, to grab them out of the air, paste them into your scrapbook and close the cover before they escape. To have something to return to, a portal back into that feeling, that day, that song.
(warning - I'm about to sound like your dad)
But it's a sad day for music when the recording, the capturing of the moment, takes precedence over the moment itself. When a person who is fortunate enough to stand three feet in front of their hero, chooses to experience the moment via a three-inch screen instead.
I suppose, as I was jostled and squashed and pushed into any vaguely person-sized gap that happened to open, that being behind a taller-than-me person who decided to film every single song was pure bad luck. If I had lucked into an uninterrupted view, or at least one not obscured by a video camera at least 70% of the time, I would not be complaining.
Despite my struggles, I can't bring myself to condemn those who want to film and photograph a show like this. Although their choice might impact my experience, isn't that the point of participating in the ritual of live music? A sea of individual people, breathing and moving and singing and heart-beating together - no longer individuals, but one being. Each slight movement triggering the next, each exhale the next inhale, each camera flash the blinking eye of this giant creature of passion and sweat and love.
Because I didn't take any pictures or record any pictures, I'll have to capture the memory of this fantastic show with my words.
Here they are:
Heat and people and closeness and energy and hearts beating and Harry Potter and new friends and less-new friends and giggles and tears and harmonies and Disney and passion and dancing and jumping and new songs and less-new songs and jokes and pictures and feelings and teenage dreams and having a home and not being alone. Oh, and so much love.
And sweat. A lot of sweat.
Goodnight, bloglings
Thursday 13 June 2013
Week 23: Song of the Summer
Skipping the formalities of explaining why this post is so late, I think it's time for an Angry Feminist Rant. Is that cool with you guys?
As someone who gets fiercely attached to songs that are popular at certain moments in my life, I always enjoy the guessing game for what chart-topper will be remembered as the Song of the Summer. An unofficial designation, but one that I usually put quite some thought into. I guess it's part of constructing the mental scrapbook of a certain period of time - the images and feelings that make up something as magical as a summer definitely need a soundtrack.
This past weekend I spent a lot of time driving around, listening to (mostly) catchy summer tunes on various radio stations. And although it's been out for a few months, it was the first time I'd heard the song "Blurred Lines" by Robin Thicke. It's currently a major contender for song of the summer. At first blush, it's a funky, upbeat song that is perfect for car sing alongs. Except for, oh yeah: the lyrics.
For the sake of this post, we'll put aside the "normal" (although the fact that this shit is normalized makes me want to barf) sexism that pervades practically all pop songs. The objectification of women is basically all men know how to sing about.
But what particularly irks me here is the blatant disregard for the concept of consent. If you've ever heard someone talk about rape culture, this is what they mean. The idea that a woman's (enthusiastic, verbal) consent is not required in order to touch/kiss/have sex with her. The idea that even if she does exercise her right to deny consent, she is leading him on/playing hard to get/toying with him and he should keep trying/harass/rape her because he deserves it/she actually does want it, despite saying NO.
A sampling of the vile lyrics, for those of you blessed to never have heard them:
.......
I know you want it
You're a good girl
Can't let it get past me
......... I hate these blurred lines
I know you want it
...........
But you're a good girl
The way you grab me
Must wanna get nasty
Let's start with "I know you want it". This is the central message of the song - the singer is convinced that this girl wants "it", despite her giving not a single verbal signal that she does, in fact, want it. He is convinced that he knows what this woman wants, better than she does. Or, more likely, he is so pumped full of male culture that he actually cannot conceive that a woman might not want him to touch her.
He sings "can't let it get past me" implying that although this woman has not given any sort of consent, he is not going to stop pursuing her.
The "good girl" image is really a topic for another rant. (Pssst: the good girl/bad girl dichotomy is misogynistic because it gives men the power to judge women based on their conformity to archaic standards of behaviour)
The whole idea of "blurred lines" really makes my blood boil. The entire song is based on the idea that a woman's consent is not fixed or definite - that what she says or doesn't say, with regards to consent for sexual advances, is not the last word.
Let that sink in.
What people are calling the song of the summer is about how A WOMAN DOES NOT ACTUALLY HAVE THE FINAL SAY IN WHAT A MAN DOES TO HER BODY.
This is the culture we are living in. Preschoolers are taught the difference between yes and no. Most people make it past that year of education. So where did that knowledge go? That ability to differentiate between a person who wants you to touch/kiss/have sex with them, and a person who doesn't?
"The way you grab me, must wanna get nasty" - this line is perpetuating one of the biggest challenges faced by people who struggle against rape culture. Male culture somehow teaches that if a woman says yes to one thing (dancing, touching, kissing, etc.) then men have some sort of fast-pass that automatically entitles them to sex.
In case any of you are still struggling, let me break it down.
Sex without consent is rape.
If you say yes to one thing, but don't want to do something else: you have the right to say no.
If you say yes to something, then change your mind: you have the right to say no.
If you feel you have led this person on, but don't want to do something: you have the right to say no.
As a rule: you always have the right to say no.
If you do not explicitly say yes, it is rape.
The ideas in these lyrics are the exact same ideas that cause rape.
The objectification of women (though a broader issue) leads men to believe that if boxes a, b and c are checked off, they deserve sex.
Regardless of the woman saying yes or no.
And even if she does say no, her (perceived) body language, reputation or behaviour all override that denial of consent.
Great job picking the song of the summer there, general population.
/rant over.
Goodnight, bloglings
As someone who gets fiercely attached to songs that are popular at certain moments in my life, I always enjoy the guessing game for what chart-topper will be remembered as the Song of the Summer. An unofficial designation, but one that I usually put quite some thought into. I guess it's part of constructing the mental scrapbook of a certain period of time - the images and feelings that make up something as magical as a summer definitely need a soundtrack.
This past weekend I spent a lot of time driving around, listening to (mostly) catchy summer tunes on various radio stations. And although it's been out for a few months, it was the first time I'd heard the song "Blurred Lines" by Robin Thicke. It's currently a major contender for song of the summer. At first blush, it's a funky, upbeat song that is perfect for car sing alongs. Except for, oh yeah: the lyrics.
For the sake of this post, we'll put aside the "normal" (although the fact that this shit is normalized makes me want to barf) sexism that pervades practically all pop songs. The objectification of women is basically all men know how to sing about.
But what particularly irks me here is the blatant disregard for the concept of consent. If you've ever heard someone talk about rape culture, this is what they mean. The idea that a woman's (enthusiastic, verbal) consent is not required in order to touch/kiss/have sex with her. The idea that even if she does exercise her right to deny consent, she is leading him on/playing hard to get/toying with him and he should keep trying/harass/rape her because he deserves it/she actually does want it, despite saying NO.
A sampling of the vile lyrics, for those of you blessed to never have heard them:
.......
I know you want it
You're a good girl
Can't let it get past me
......... I hate these blurred lines
I know you want it
...........
But you're a good girl
The way you grab me
Must wanna get nasty
Let's start with "I know you want it". This is the central message of the song - the singer is convinced that this girl wants "it", despite her giving not a single verbal signal that she does, in fact, want it. He is convinced that he knows what this woman wants, better than she does. Or, more likely, he is so pumped full of male culture that he actually cannot conceive that a woman might not want him to touch her.
He sings "can't let it get past me" implying that although this woman has not given any sort of consent, he is not going to stop pursuing her.
The "good girl" image is really a topic for another rant. (Pssst: the good girl/bad girl dichotomy is misogynistic because it gives men the power to judge women based on their conformity to archaic standards of behaviour)
The whole idea of "blurred lines" really makes my blood boil. The entire song is based on the idea that a woman's consent is not fixed or definite - that what she says or doesn't say, with regards to consent for sexual advances, is not the last word.
Let that sink in.
What people are calling the song of the summer is about how A WOMAN DOES NOT ACTUALLY HAVE THE FINAL SAY IN WHAT A MAN DOES TO HER BODY.
This is the culture we are living in. Preschoolers are taught the difference between yes and no. Most people make it past that year of education. So where did that knowledge go? That ability to differentiate between a person who wants you to touch/kiss/have sex with them, and a person who doesn't?
"The way you grab me, must wanna get nasty" - this line is perpetuating one of the biggest challenges faced by people who struggle against rape culture. Male culture somehow teaches that if a woman says yes to one thing (dancing, touching, kissing, etc.) then men have some sort of fast-pass that automatically entitles them to sex.
In case any of you are still struggling, let me break it down.
Sex without consent is rape.
If you say yes to one thing, but don't want to do something else: you have the right to say no.
If you say yes to something, then change your mind: you have the right to say no.
If you feel you have led this person on, but don't want to do something: you have the right to say no.
As a rule: you always have the right to say no.
If you do not explicitly say yes, it is rape.
The ideas in these lyrics are the exact same ideas that cause rape.
The objectification of women (though a broader issue) leads men to believe that if boxes a, b and c are checked off, they deserve sex.
Regardless of the woman saying yes or no.
And even if she does say no, her (perceived) body language, reputation or behaviour all override that denial of consent.
Great job picking the song of the summer there, general population.
/rant over.
Goodnight, bloglings
Monday 3 June 2013
Week 22: Saving Moments
Yesterday my grandmother showed me a stack of photos that she was getting rid of. Apparently she has far too many, and these we the ones being cut. As I began to flip through them, I wondered how she could stand to throw away all these perfectly preserved moments from so long ago, from her life. Granted, she still had boxes and boxes of them - but none of those were these. No two pictures were the same - what made certain moments more valuable than others?
I guess it's a matter of perspective. Although I likely have more photos on this very laptop than my grandparents took - or had taken of them - in their lives, their collection spans over eighty years, while mine covers less than twenty. Does having lived eighty+ years of "moments" mean that some become expendable, even forgettable? I wouldn't willingly part with any of my photos, although I know many of them document meaningless things. Will this ever change? In sixty years, if .jpg and .png become obsolete, if I lose all or most of my huge collection, how will I feel?
Of course, there are certain moments that rise above the rest. But I don't think they are the moments we expect. If it ever came down to it, if ever I had to chose only a few photos to save, it wouldn't be my graduation picture. It would be the long shadows on the wooden dock, splattered with water droplets and wet footprints, that day after final exams when we took a picnic to the river.
It wouldn't be me winning my first ribbon at the fall fair. It would be me looking off into the distance, leaning on my pony's shoulder while he eats grass.
It wouldn't be my grandparents' wedding photo, smiling stiffly outside of a church.
It would be this.
After the ceremony. Being mauled by well-wishing family and friends. Catching each others eye, and sharing a moment that was just for them.
I saved this picture from the perilous "throw-away" pile. I guess everyone has a different idea of what moments are worth saving.
And I guess that's the point of taking photos at all.
Here are a few more gems I saved:
Goodnight, bloglings
I guess it's a matter of perspective. Although I likely have more photos on this very laptop than my grandparents took - or had taken of them - in their lives, their collection spans over eighty years, while mine covers less than twenty. Does having lived eighty+ years of "moments" mean that some become expendable, even forgettable? I wouldn't willingly part with any of my photos, although I know many of them document meaningless things. Will this ever change? In sixty years, if .jpg and .png become obsolete, if I lose all or most of my huge collection, how will I feel?
Of course, there are certain moments that rise above the rest. But I don't think they are the moments we expect. If it ever came down to it, if ever I had to chose only a few photos to save, it wouldn't be my graduation picture. It would be the long shadows on the wooden dock, splattered with water droplets and wet footprints, that day after final exams when we took a picnic to the river.
It wouldn't be me winning my first ribbon at the fall fair. It would be me looking off into the distance, leaning on my pony's shoulder while he eats grass.
It wouldn't be my grandparents' wedding photo, smiling stiffly outside of a church.
It would be this.
I saved this picture from the perilous "throw-away" pile. I guess everyone has a different idea of what moments are worth saving.
And I guess that's the point of taking photos at all.
Here are a few more gems I saved:
 |
| (a young grandpa) |
 | |||
| (a young grandma playing tennis and harvesting maple sap - she is on the left) |
 |
| (grandma, grandpa and the whole gang up at the lake) |
Goodnight, bloglings
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