Social Network
There are other social networks now. I keep up with at least two myself - Facebook and Twitter, although the latter is a highly specific effort that the vast majority of people on the former don't know about. On top of that are emails, some vague forum-like activities, even a half-hearted podcast.
Let me tell you why I'm here now though.
I remembered this place some time in the past week. Recently I've written something I'm quite proud of - a short story about a cocky starfighter pilot with the callsign Calliope (it's possible someone reading this could remember the genesis of this from this very journal, several years ago). A friend of mine launched a project in reaction to the (at least initially) dismal amounts of women cast in the new Star Wars movies; an effort called "Women We Want To See", with the goal of coming up with exciting role model characters (or even just interesting characters) for women. I offered up Calliope, expanded to about a 6,000 word space adventure/buddy story. I quite liked it, and while it is theoretically going to be published in that (amateur and nonprofit) collection, I figured I might put it up here too. But first, I thought I'd poke about the place. It's been a while, after all.
There wasn't much here, but that wasn't really the point. The point was my realisation that, well, I've visited most of the people on my friends list. I know the names. And, after all, there are other social networks now. Which is how I found myself staring at a picture of someone I knew well about 7 years ago, reflecting on how amazingly different they seemed to look now. Having 7 years pass like that in one go will do that, I suppose.
I visit different people now. It's a habit I can't seem to shake, forming these close bonds with people vastly geographically separate, and then having to make such big elaborate plans in order to go hang out with them. I'm better about it now, at least. I'm very practiced at being a good guest, because I've been one a hell of a lot. But still, even though much of my new social circle shares similarities with my old one, the people in it are different (bar one, of course, I do live in the UK now after all).
Seeing this person, who I got on well with (on the whole), and enjoyed hanging out with, this older, and, from the looks of the picture, cooler version of them, gave me real pause. They were right there. They were always right there. I could reach out and make contact if I wanted. There are, after all, other social networks now.
I didn't. It didn't feel right. Rediscovering them felt like bringing them out of my past, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was still just in theirs. It's been 7 years, with perhaps roughly one email per year since. Could I really knock on their door after all this time, some ghost of their conquered past, and try to reconnect based on shared experiences we used to have, and the quite probably nothing we have in common now? Would I even want to? Could I not just leave well enough alone, or do I have to pretend like every meaningful friendship I've ever had has a potential to carry on to infinity, rather than being satisfied with the fact that some times, you just move on?
There are other social networks now. We were friends on this one, but as dumb and trivial as a friends request seems, it felt too weird to suddenly ask to be friends on the other.
Let me tell you why I'm here now though.
I remembered this place some time in the past week. Recently I've written something I'm quite proud of - a short story about a cocky starfighter pilot with the callsign Calliope (it's possible someone reading this could remember the genesis of this from this very journal, several years ago). A friend of mine launched a project in reaction to the (at least initially) dismal amounts of women cast in the new Star Wars movies; an effort called "Women We Want To See", with the goal of coming up with exciting role model characters (or even just interesting characters) for women. I offered up Calliope, expanded to about a 6,000 word space adventure/buddy story. I quite liked it, and while it is theoretically going to be published in that (amateur and nonprofit) collection, I figured I might put it up here too. But first, I thought I'd poke about the place. It's been a while, after all.
There wasn't much here, but that wasn't really the point. The point was my realisation that, well, I've visited most of the people on my friends list. I know the names. And, after all, there are other social networks now. Which is how I found myself staring at a picture of someone I knew well about 7 years ago, reflecting on how amazingly different they seemed to look now. Having 7 years pass like that in one go will do that, I suppose.
I visit different people now. It's a habit I can't seem to shake, forming these close bonds with people vastly geographically separate, and then having to make such big elaborate plans in order to go hang out with them. I'm better about it now, at least. I'm very practiced at being a good guest, because I've been one a hell of a lot. But still, even though much of my new social circle shares similarities with my old one, the people in it are different (bar one, of course, I do live in the UK now after all).
Seeing this person, who I got on well with (on the whole), and enjoyed hanging out with, this older, and, from the looks of the picture, cooler version of them, gave me real pause. They were right there. They were always right there. I could reach out and make contact if I wanted. There are, after all, other social networks now.
I didn't. It didn't feel right. Rediscovering them felt like bringing them out of my past, but I couldn't shake the feeling that I was still just in theirs. It's been 7 years, with perhaps roughly one email per year since. Could I really knock on their door after all this time, some ghost of their conquered past, and try to reconnect based on shared experiences we used to have, and the quite probably nothing we have in common now? Would I even want to? Could I not just leave well enough alone, or do I have to pretend like every meaningful friendship I've ever had has a potential to carry on to infinity, rather than being satisfied with the fact that some times, you just move on?
There are other social networks now. We were friends on this one, but as dumb and trivial as a friends request seems, it felt too weird to suddenly ask to be friends on the other.