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Can I chalk it up as being timely?
Coincidentally enough, I've been planning for days to post something about my utterly abysmal response time to comments lately. Heh.
What I was planning to post was something along the lines of:
OH MY GOD LIFE. Is there someone I can tag to step in for a minute? I promise I'll come back and relieve you as soon as I've had a breather. And possibly a nap. In the last month, I have...
1. Visited the Ancestral Home, which is one hell of a production once you add in the dog and the cat and the drive. There is no internet to speak of there, either. This continues to sadden me, even as I try valiantly to drag the parents into the modern age. I am the child of Luddites, I tell you.
2. Been visited by the Mom. Much fun was had, much wine was drunk, and not much work at all was done.
3. Taken tests. Oh, so damned many tests. If there is one thing that is beginning to drive me bonkers about this block, it is the complete and utter lack of organization. I would settle for just knowing when the tests are coming more than a few days ahead of time. We knew about the midterm and final, but "Stay tuned!" really doesn't cut it for the assorted others. Grr.
4. Been working. This has recently involved overnight guard duty (read: preventing small children from attempting to scale the mastodon in the dark) and playing retroactive Easter bunny (Easter dinosaur? Easter early-Eocene lagomorph-like mammal? I don't know. What I do know is, you have not known terror until a pack of three year olds has realized you are the source of the magically-reappearing egg hunt prizes. I'm telling you, they're like tiny, single-minded little heat-seeking missiles.)
5. Ridden the horse, and attempted to rapidly ascend the learning curve where training is concerned. So, funny thing: when they tell you retraining an off-track thoroughbred is a whole new ball game, they are totally not kidding.
6. Submitted the laptop to the Applecare Gods. The best part about describing the horrifying noise your computer is making as, "The sound a rabbit makes when in extreme terror?" Having the guy go, "Oh, yeah, I know what that is. Let me order the parts."
7. Wept for my sad, sad inability to get anything done, thought about getting something done, and then whimpered and went off to passively consume somebody else's done stuff. I am weak. Sorry.
Anyway, feedback. For what it's worth, my position is as follows:
I like feedback. Not because it's validation (although, yeah, I'll totally cop to having my moments of, "You know what, world? So what if I still don't understand the implications of epigenetics on sexual dimorphism in the platypus and I can't recall at the moment just what the differentials for swine pox are. There are people who do not think my brain sucks toads, and it says so right there. Take that!"); not because it's a popularity contest (because, well... Me? Really?); not even because it lets me know what works and what doesn't, what comes through and what I still need to find the voice for.
I like feedback because it's a conversation, whether it's three words or three paragraphs. I grew up in a completely non-fannish family (see: Luddites I Have Loved), in a pretty non-fannish area in general; I didn't meet people who knew what the hell I was(n't) talking about until college, and even then it took me a really pathetically long time to find other fans. The idea of having people to squee or flail or rage with over a TV show still sometimes catches me off guard and makes me feel really, terrifically overjoyed. (The idea of having people on the other side of the world who I can say, "Hey, how was your day?" to also still boggles my mind, btw. How cool is that? *g*)
So, yes. I like comments. Please don't take my crappy response time to them as any indication otherwise; I just tend to put off answering until I have more than the brain of a squirrel to answer with, and that can sometimes take a tragically long time to happen. This kind of comes down to a remark made by a friend of mine a little bit ago. As she put it, "I'm not sure if you're the laziest overachiever I know, or the most over-achieving slacker."
The sad thing is, she's totally right, and she doesn't even know about the whole fandom thing. What's weird is that I don't feel that way about anyone else; I just tend to have totally different standards for myself - as a reader and a writer - than I do for the writers I read, or the readers who read my stuff. Basically, I feel like a complete goon for not answering every comment in the history of ever, despite the fact that I never think twice about someone not answering mine, because hey, they're probably busy. I suck at leaving feedback even on things I love these days, and feel awful about that, too. Just how I roll, I guess.
(I think it comes from a lifetime of being guilted into writing thank you notes for every possible occasion, if you want to know the truth. Right about now my mom is feeling inordinately pleased with her parenting efforts. Damn it.)
Which sort of brings me to the other point: I don't mind if you don't say anything at all, ever. If you've friended me, or just dropped by now and then, or read half of a story and hit the back button so hard your keyboard will never be the same, it's all good. If you want to say hi, feel free; if you want to lurk until kingdom come, I'll help set up the blanket fort. Provided you're not planning to sell pictures to the paparazzi or anything, I'm perfectly cool with pretty much anything that makes you feel comfortable. This is supposed to be fun, on all sides of the equation.
All of which pretty much comes down to this:
I <3 every last awesome, fascinating, sweet, never-a-dull-moment one of you. Just so you know.
What I was planning to post was something along the lines of:
OH MY GOD LIFE. Is there someone I can tag to step in for a minute? I promise I'll come back and relieve you as soon as I've had a breather. And possibly a nap. In the last month, I have...
1. Visited the Ancestral Home, which is one hell of a production once you add in the dog and the cat and the drive. There is no internet to speak of there, either. This continues to sadden me, even as I try valiantly to drag the parents into the modern age. I am the child of Luddites, I tell you.
2. Been visited by the Mom. Much fun was had, much wine was drunk, and not much work at all was done.
3. Taken tests. Oh, so damned many tests. If there is one thing that is beginning to drive me bonkers about this block, it is the complete and utter lack of organization. I would settle for just knowing when the tests are coming more than a few days ahead of time. We knew about the midterm and final, but "Stay tuned!" really doesn't cut it for the assorted others. Grr.
4. Been working. This has recently involved overnight guard duty (read: preventing small children from attempting to scale the mastodon in the dark) and playing retroactive Easter bunny (Easter dinosaur? Easter early-Eocene lagomorph-like mammal? I don't know. What I do know is, you have not known terror until a pack of three year olds has realized you are the source of the magically-reappearing egg hunt prizes. I'm telling you, they're like tiny, single-minded little heat-seeking missiles.)
5. Ridden the horse, and attempted to rapidly ascend the learning curve where training is concerned. So, funny thing: when they tell you retraining an off-track thoroughbred is a whole new ball game, they are totally not kidding.
6. Submitted the laptop to the Applecare Gods. The best part about describing the horrifying noise your computer is making as, "The sound a rabbit makes when in extreme terror?" Having the guy go, "Oh, yeah, I know what that is. Let me order the parts."
7. Wept for my sad, sad inability to get anything done, thought about getting something done, and then whimpered and went off to passively consume somebody else's done stuff. I am weak. Sorry.
Anyway, feedback. For what it's worth, my position is as follows:
I like feedback. Not because it's validation (although, yeah, I'll totally cop to having my moments of, "You know what, world? So what if I still don't understand the implications of epigenetics on sexual dimorphism in the platypus and I can't recall at the moment just what the differentials for swine pox are. There are people who do not think my brain sucks toads, and it says so right there. Take that!"); not because it's a popularity contest (because, well... Me? Really?); not even because it lets me know what works and what doesn't, what comes through and what I still need to find the voice for.
I like feedback because it's a conversation, whether it's three words or three paragraphs. I grew up in a completely non-fannish family (see: Luddites I Have Loved), in a pretty non-fannish area in general; I didn't meet people who knew what the hell I was(n't) talking about until college, and even then it took me a really pathetically long time to find other fans. The idea of having people to squee or flail or rage with over a TV show still sometimes catches me off guard and makes me feel really, terrifically overjoyed. (The idea of having people on the other side of the world who I can say, "Hey, how was your day?" to also still boggles my mind, btw. How cool is that? *g*)
So, yes. I like comments. Please don't take my crappy response time to them as any indication otherwise; I just tend to put off answering until I have more than the brain of a squirrel to answer with, and that can sometimes take a tragically long time to happen. This kind of comes down to a remark made by a friend of mine a little bit ago. As she put it, "I'm not sure if you're the laziest overachiever I know, or the most over-achieving slacker."
The sad thing is, she's totally right, and she doesn't even know about the whole fandom thing. What's weird is that I don't feel that way about anyone else; I just tend to have totally different standards for myself - as a reader and a writer - than I do for the writers I read, or the readers who read my stuff. Basically, I feel like a complete goon for not answering every comment in the history of ever, despite the fact that I never think twice about someone not answering mine, because hey, they're probably busy. I suck at leaving feedback even on things I love these days, and feel awful about that, too. Just how I roll, I guess.
(I think it comes from a lifetime of being guilted into writing thank you notes for every possible occasion, if you want to know the truth. Right about now my mom is feeling inordinately pleased with her parenting efforts. Damn it.)
Which sort of brings me to the other point: I don't mind if you don't say anything at all, ever. If you've friended me, or just dropped by now and then, or read half of a story and hit the back button so hard your keyboard will never be the same, it's all good. If you want to say hi, feel free; if you want to lurk until kingdom come, I'll help set up the blanket fort. Provided you're not planning to sell pictures to the paparazzi or anything, I'm perfectly cool with pretty much anything that makes you feel comfortable. This is supposed to be fun, on all sides of the equation.
All of which pretty much comes down to this:
I <3 every last awesome, fascinating, sweet, never-a-dull-moment one of you. Just so you know.