LJ, Wonderful Boy And Girl Land
Just for the record, this journal is a public debate forum. It is not my semi-private space, unless I lock posts. It is not my personal area. It is not my home.
That said, I agree with this post, and others like it. The gist of it is that her journal is her semi-private space, it's her personal area, it's her home, and you best be careful of her feelings and courteous if you're a stranger just wandering in.
Sometimes I feel like lj is this big ole fair, with all these booths. I wander around, I buy cotton candy at some booths, I ride rides. I point and laugh at circus freaks; I look at other people's arts and crafts, whirly-gigs and do-dads; I even have my own booth. And then I wander in some booth and think about doing the shooting contest to win the prize bear, and find out I actually just wandered into a tent where some bum was living.
I'm not saying those who feel like their journals are their homes are crazy bums who have strange relationships with prize bears. I'm saying, you're shocked because I, a stranger, wandered into your home with muddy boots and demanded you make your beds differently, but I'm shocked because you're living on the fairground. We are moving about in two different spaces simultaneously, and all the laws of physics except maybe dimensional theory say that's impossible. But we do.
Personally, sometimes it frustrates and tires me out I have to stop at every tent and check if some bum is living in it. Dude, I just want to get my face painted, why can't you understand this is a free fun fairground where we get to ride a lot of ponies? But then I remember that to some people it's not, so ... I check. I'm careful in strangers' ljs when commenting, and I try not to tell them how I want it made when I realize they're making beds and not making giraffes out of balloons.
Yeah, it sucks, 'cause you're at the fair. But no matter how many sparkly tiaras you won at the weight-guessing booth, you're still over five years old (or else you wouldn't have been able to ride that tilt-o-whirl). And even at the fair, you've got to have some measure of decorum. You can't just tip your icecream cone over onto someone's head.
Or you totally can. But then you'll be a circus freak and I will point and laugh at you.
That said, I agree with this post, and others like it. The gist of it is that her journal is her semi-private space, it's her personal area, it's her home, and you best be careful of her feelings and courteous if you're a stranger just wandering in.
Sometimes I feel like lj is this big ole fair, with all these booths. I wander around, I buy cotton candy at some booths, I ride rides. I point and laugh at circus freaks; I look at other people's arts and crafts, whirly-gigs and do-dads; I even have my own booth. And then I wander in some booth and think about doing the shooting contest to win the prize bear, and find out I actually just wandered into a tent where some bum was living.
I'm not saying those who feel like their journals are their homes are crazy bums who have strange relationships with prize bears. I'm saying, you're shocked because I, a stranger, wandered into your home with muddy boots and demanded you make your beds differently, but I'm shocked because you're living on the fairground. We are moving about in two different spaces simultaneously, and all the laws of physics except maybe dimensional theory say that's impossible. But we do.
Personally, sometimes it frustrates and tires me out I have to stop at every tent and check if some bum is living in it. Dude, I just want to get my face painted, why can't you understand this is a free fun fairground where we get to ride a lot of ponies? But then I remember that to some people it's not, so ... I check. I'm careful in strangers' ljs when commenting, and I try not to tell them how I want it made when I realize they're making beds and not making giraffes out of balloons.
Yeah, it sucks, 'cause you're at the fair. But no matter how many sparkly tiaras you won at the weight-guessing booth, you're still over five years old (or else you wouldn't have been able to ride that tilt-o-whirl). And even at the fair, you've got to have some measure of decorum. You can't just tip your icecream cone over onto someone's head.
Or you totally can. But then you'll be a circus freak and I will point and laugh at you.