The Fiddler's Peeve or
... how there are no fandoms without the usual shipwrecks.
My three peeves that originated from trying the waters of a fandom with the tip of my toes.
1 There was the auction at FG. I bid and won a drawing by an artist present. I was really happy when I was told that instead of a sketch done then and there, if I could wait, I would get a painting. Again, I was really happy. That was November 2004. After an e-mail dated January 2005 I had no more news. My last e-mail tentatively inquiring about it went unanswered.
2 My hard cover, deluxe and autographed Sandman edition is somewhere in San Francisco. Why? Because somebody offered to have it signed by the illustrator and I said
"That would be great! But how do I get it back?"
To which the person replied... "Don't worry, I'll ship it to you. It's the least I can do after you sent me all those special editions in Portuguese."
disclaimer: paraphrasing
That was October 2005. All e-mails and messages asking for that Sandman back? Unanswered.
3 Lastly, there was the mitzvah (good deed for you non Yiddish). I offered to share my hotel room with somebody who didn't have a place to stay. Everything was fine until I mentioned I could never live in an isolated house in the country and that I was a city girl. I was yelled at and witnessed a melt down that made me painfully aware that I was all alone in the car of the person banging fists on steering wheel while yelling at me. Nothing like a freak out to remind you that just because two people share interests that doesn't eliminate the possibility that one of them could be unstable. I cut my trip short and learnt that even smart people make the same mistake twice (Baltimore, July of 2002).
Though I have to say that seeing coraline & rusty_halo in New York was great. I even got to be treated in a rude condescending manner by a bona fide CBGB employee (And the band playing there was told to keep it down because there was a reading going on upstairs. How very post punk.) I got to see the wonderful redeem147 in Toronto and hear her serenade me. In front of an audience. Did I mention she sang my song? I'm smiling right now. I got a ton of books signed. Got called stalker in a fun way (because stalking can be fun - haha fun, not weird fun). Tried to (and I think I did get to) understand that fandom a bit. Wrote an article that didn't suck, but that - after all my work - wasn't used. I was lucky I got paid anyway, but it did end up being the last thing I would write before getting sick, sick.
I wonder if I'll ever get the Sandman back or get the drawing (I've been told that people wait for years to get art from illustrators - so there's hope.).
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That trip, across America and into Canada, was the last meandering trip I took. It's been too long and the gypsy in me is bitter and ready to be somewhere - somewhere other than here. I'm afraid that (mostly due to that) I've gotten quite nasty this last year. Bovine and canine epithets have been bestowed upon me on more than one occasion. In my defence, I have to say that some of those spirited exchanges took place in traffic. It's just that I don't belong in one place - I belong everywhere. These vagabond shoes are ready to stray, dude. Get me out of here!
My three peeves that originated from trying the waters of a fandom with the tip of my toes.
1 There was the auction at FG. I bid and won a drawing by an artist present. I was really happy when I was told that instead of a sketch done then and there, if I could wait, I would get a painting. Again, I was really happy. That was November 2004. After an e-mail dated January 2005 I had no more news. My last e-mail tentatively inquiring about it went unanswered.
2 My hard cover, deluxe and autographed Sandman edition is somewhere in San Francisco. Why? Because somebody offered to have it signed by the illustrator and I said
"That would be great! But how do I get it back?"
To which the person replied... "Don't worry, I'll ship it to you. It's the least I can do after you sent me all those special editions in Portuguese."
disclaimer: paraphrasing
That was October 2005. All e-mails and messages asking for that Sandman back? Unanswered.
3 Lastly, there was the mitzvah (good deed for you non Yiddish). I offered to share my hotel room with somebody who didn't have a place to stay. Everything was fine until I mentioned I could never live in an isolated house in the country and that I was a city girl. I was yelled at and witnessed a melt down that made me painfully aware that I was all alone in the car of the person banging fists on steering wheel while yelling at me. Nothing like a freak out to remind you that just because two people share interests that doesn't eliminate the possibility that one of them could be unstable. I cut my trip short and learnt that even smart people make the same mistake twice (Baltimore, July of 2002).
Though I have to say that seeing coraline & rusty_halo in New York was great. I even got to be treated in a rude condescending manner by a bona fide CBGB employee (And the band playing there was told to keep it down because there was a reading going on upstairs. How very post punk.) I got to see the wonderful redeem147 in Toronto and hear her serenade me. In front of an audience. Did I mention she sang my song? I'm smiling right now. I got a ton of books signed. Got called stalker in a fun way (because stalking can be fun - haha fun, not weird fun). Tried to (and I think I did get to) understand that fandom a bit. Wrote an article that didn't suck, but that - after all my work - wasn't used. I was lucky I got paid anyway, but it did end up being the last thing I would write before getting sick, sick.
I wonder if I'll ever get the Sandman back or get the drawing (I've been told that people wait for years to get art from illustrators - so there's hope.).
=#=
That trip, across America and into Canada, was the last meandering trip I took. It's been too long and the gypsy in me is bitter and ready to be somewhere - somewhere other than here. I'm afraid that (mostly due to that) I've gotten quite nasty this last year. Bovine and canine epithets have been bestowed upon me on more than one occasion. In my defence, I have to say that some of those spirited exchanges took place in traffic. It's just that I don't belong in one place - I belong everywhere. These vagabond shoes are ready to stray, dude. Get me out of here!