What we're looking for (in fandom)
Wanting a big flist (or reading circle) always seemed to me to be missing the point. Except it's not, really.
Fandom--or blogging, whatever you do with these things, really--isn't about popularity, right? It's about expression and community. If you have a small circle who listens, and provides thoughtful insights, you have what you came for. Except you don't, really.
I once read a definition of the internet (I forgot whose it is. If anyone knows, please tell me) that went like this:
Person A: I...sometimes I--I have been known to wear a rubber chicken on my head.
Person B: You do? I--I do that sometimes!
Person C: Rubber chicken on your head? Oh, I do that all the time! Let's form a club!
And that, I think, is what we came here for. Many of us have those in our lives who love us. Some number of us have those in our lives who will listen when we go off on a fandom tangent. A fraction of that number have those in our lives who can identify with fannishness, and very few of us have those in our lives who can identify to the extent that they have someone in the same fandom as them, and so on.
Once you have built your circle on a blogging site, all the sudden you have all sorts of people who can identify with your fannishness, and then a set within those who are into the particular fandom you happen to be in, and then a set within those who can identify with your thoughts and experience. But the truth is, the bigger your circle is, the more likely you are to have someone who will see you say, "I like to wear rubber chickens", whose response is, "wow, I like to do that too!"
I don't need for people to identify with me all the time. Intellectually, I would prefer to have an audience of thoughtful people who don't necessarily always agree with what I say, but consider it respectfully and provide their own opinions. I prefer for people to say, "Really, rubber chickens? That is so interesting! Why?" than just mindlessly agree and enthuse. Of course, above all, I would prefer a Person B who says, "I do too. Why do we like to wear rubber chickens?" and a Person C who says, "Let's analyze!" But if given a choice--just between people who identify but don't analyze, and people who don't identify but will listen and consider things with me--I would choose people who are thoughtful and listen any day over an audience of mindlessly bobbing heads.
But that doesn't change the fact that it is a comfort, in the gut, for me to be able to say, "I wear rubber chickens," and for someone else to say, "I do too!" That's what's thrilling about fandom, really.
Now, it's possible to come to a point of identification through an intellectual analysis of some particular taste. For example:
Person A: I like to wear rubber chickens.
Person B: Really, rubber chickens? That's so interesting. Why?
Person C: Let's analyze! I, for instance, wear a stuffed parrot attached to my shoulder.
Person A: There seems to be an avian motif!
Person B: How stimulating! For although my sartorial choices do not reflect this avian motif, I often contemplate flight, in waking hours!
Person C: And I am invigorated by aeronautical themes.
Person A: Let's start a club!
But you see how that interaction is less direct. It's comforting in it's own way; it's very cool. But it's not that direct wire to your hormones you get, when you have this private thing you think is yours, and then you find that someone shares it. I mean, I think that this is a biological, evolution-directed thing, this gut response to human identification. We are comforted by people doing what we do, feeling what we feel.
I'm not saying I want a big circle, not really; nor am I saying my list is particularly small. As I said, I would rather people who will listen and who can think, anyway, and I feel that that is you all. But sometimes it is true that I think of something to post, and then think: what is the point, really? People may think that it is interesting, but they will not have had that experience, and so can't say, "YEAH, RUBBER CHICKENS!"; they can only say, "Really, rubber chickens? That's so interesting. Why?" and then I will have to explain, and then I will not get my gut comfort.
Probably, the problem is I want fandom to be both comfort food and brain food, and it really can't always be both.
Fandom--or blogging, whatever you do with these things, really--isn't about popularity, right? It's about expression and community. If you have a small circle who listens, and provides thoughtful insights, you have what you came for. Except you don't, really.
I once read a definition of the internet (I forgot whose it is. If anyone knows, please tell me) that went like this:
Person A: I...sometimes I--I have been known to wear a rubber chicken on my head.
Person B: You do? I--I do that sometimes!
Person C: Rubber chicken on your head? Oh, I do that all the time! Let's form a club!
And that, I think, is what we came here for. Many of us have those in our lives who love us. Some number of us have those in our lives who will listen when we go off on a fandom tangent. A fraction of that number have those in our lives who can identify with fannishness, and very few of us have those in our lives who can identify to the extent that they have someone in the same fandom as them, and so on.
Once you have built your circle on a blogging site, all the sudden you have all sorts of people who can identify with your fannishness, and then a set within those who are into the particular fandom you happen to be in, and then a set within those who can identify with your thoughts and experience. But the truth is, the bigger your circle is, the more likely you are to have someone who will see you say, "I like to wear rubber chickens", whose response is, "wow, I like to do that too!"
I don't need for people to identify with me all the time. Intellectually, I would prefer to have an audience of thoughtful people who don't necessarily always agree with what I say, but consider it respectfully and provide their own opinions. I prefer for people to say, "Really, rubber chickens? That is so interesting! Why?" than just mindlessly agree and enthuse. Of course, above all, I would prefer a Person B who says, "I do too. Why do we like to wear rubber chickens?" and a Person C who says, "Let's analyze!" But if given a choice--just between people who identify but don't analyze, and people who don't identify but will listen and consider things with me--I would choose people who are thoughtful and listen any day over an audience of mindlessly bobbing heads.
But that doesn't change the fact that it is a comfort, in the gut, for me to be able to say, "I wear rubber chickens," and for someone else to say, "I do too!" That's what's thrilling about fandom, really.
Now, it's possible to come to a point of identification through an intellectual analysis of some particular taste. For example:
Person A: I like to wear rubber chickens.
Person B: Really, rubber chickens? That's so interesting. Why?
Person C: Let's analyze! I, for instance, wear a stuffed parrot attached to my shoulder.
Person A: There seems to be an avian motif!
Person B: How stimulating! For although my sartorial choices do not reflect this avian motif, I often contemplate flight, in waking hours!
Person C: And I am invigorated by aeronautical themes.
Person A: Let's start a club!
But you see how that interaction is less direct. It's comforting in it's own way; it's very cool. But it's not that direct wire to your hormones you get, when you have this private thing you think is yours, and then you find that someone shares it. I mean, I think that this is a biological, evolution-directed thing, this gut response to human identification. We are comforted by people doing what we do, feeling what we feel.
I'm not saying I want a big circle, not really; nor am I saying my list is particularly small. As I said, I would rather people who will listen and who can think, anyway, and I feel that that is you all. But sometimes it is true that I think of something to post, and then think: what is the point, really? People may think that it is interesting, but they will not have had that experience, and so can't say, "YEAH, RUBBER CHICKENS!"; they can only say, "Really, rubber chickens? That's so interesting. Why?" and then I will have to explain, and then I will not get my gut comfort.
Probably, the problem is I want fandom to be both comfort food and brain food, and it really can't always be both.