(no subject)
Let's pretend, just for a moment, that I haven't been the worst LJ friend ever, so that I can feel like it's okay to speak/babble/begin.
You know how I feel about place. I wrote a SPN fic set in my home town for heaven's sake, and made friends with hansbekhart because she wrote one set in Santa Cruz right after I moved away from there. Well, today I'm a little in love with Chicago. I didn't think it would happen. Not that I've ever had a problem with this town - just with the body-piercing winter wind - but I've always known that our relationship was destined to be transitory. Someday I'll graduate and my community will disperse, hopefully to scattered tenure track positions that will intersect every once in awhile at academic conferences. But this afternoon it's warm enough to go out to run errands in jeans and a sweat shirt but still chilly enough for me to sport a hand-knit-by-me slouchy beret. I held the gate to my building open for the mail-lady and she called me sweet, thank you, you sweet thing, thank you. I made someone laugh in the laundry room with the story of yesterday's misadventures at the vet. (Picture me walking in to the animal hospital covered in cat pee with a carrier containing a very perturbed cat in one hand - the other hand dripping blood.) Later, before or after yoga, I could walk down to the faux!ocean, I mean, Lake Michigan. I like to listen to older episodes of This American Life because I recognize things. I can forget for a minute how many of our politicians are corrupt. I like how everything is made out of bricks.
We're still probably going to move when I graduate, but in the meantime we're moving...across the street. So I won't have to switch gyms, or transfer all my prescriptions to a different pharmacy, or find new default take-out places, etc. And I am going to have my own office! In commemoration of this, I am reading A Room of One's Own.
There's been other stuff happening on the health front but I'm exhausted with it, so.
It was that scene with the boys around the piano singing "What it Feels Like for a Girl." I mean, it's no secret that I love feminist men, and the possibility the dream the hope of truly feminist men. And I think, in a way, that as much as my role in fandom when I was super-active was very female-centric in that I wrote about women a lot, I also feel like part of my "project" (though that sounds perhaps more intentional that it was) was a complementary inverse to how women writing m/m slash can work as a way to explore men and their relationships through fiction. I was trying to make fictional men explore what it's like to be us, or something? Allow us to imagine them doing that?
Anyway, it made me wistful for all of you and for that buzzing feeling of inspiration I had when I was writing say, the Sam/Sadie stories or the Madison fics, etc.
You know how I feel about place. I wrote a SPN fic set in my home town for heaven's sake, and made friends with hansbekhart because she wrote one set in Santa Cruz right after I moved away from there. Well, today I'm a little in love with Chicago. I didn't think it would happen. Not that I've ever had a problem with this town - just with the body-piercing winter wind - but I've always known that our relationship was destined to be transitory. Someday I'll graduate and my community will disperse, hopefully to scattered tenure track positions that will intersect every once in awhile at academic conferences. But this afternoon it's warm enough to go out to run errands in jeans and a sweat shirt but still chilly enough for me to sport a hand-knit-by-me slouchy beret. I held the gate to my building open for the mail-lady and she called me sweet, thank you, you sweet thing, thank you. I made someone laugh in the laundry room with the story of yesterday's misadventures at the vet. (Picture me walking in to the animal hospital covered in cat pee with a carrier containing a very perturbed cat in one hand - the other hand dripping blood.) Later, before or after yoga, I could walk down to the faux!ocean, I mean, Lake Michigan. I like to listen to older episodes of This American Life because I recognize things. I can forget for a minute how many of our politicians are corrupt. I like how everything is made out of bricks.
We're still probably going to move when I graduate, but in the meantime we're moving...across the street. So I won't have to switch gyms, or transfer all my prescriptions to a different pharmacy, or find new default take-out places, etc. And I am going to have my own office! In commemoration of this, I am reading A Room of One's Own.
There's been other stuff happening on the health front but I'm exhausted with it, so.
It was that scene with the boys around the piano singing "What it Feels Like for a Girl." I mean, it's no secret that I love feminist men, and the possibility the dream the hope of truly feminist men. And I think, in a way, that as much as my role in fandom when I was super-active was very female-centric in that I wrote about women a lot, I also feel like part of my "project" (though that sounds perhaps more intentional that it was) was a complementary inverse to how women writing m/m slash can work as a way to explore men and their relationships through fiction. I was trying to make fictional men explore what it's like to be us, or something? Allow us to imagine them doing that?
Anyway, it made me wistful for all of you and for that buzzing feeling of inspiration I had when I was writing say, the Sam/Sadie stories or the Madison fics, etc.