these are pearls that were his eyes
I think at this point I don't have any flisters reading on LJ only? And several people I've been quietly following along with have disappeared here, too. Since I'm busy uprooting myself hither and thither right now, this seems like an appropriate time to officially close shop here as a journal rather than a commenting account.
I've gone through a lot here, and met kinder people than I deserve. My first major fandom experience was on Livejournal. I talked through sexuality, religion, philosophy, loss -- sometimes in discussion with others, sometimes guided patiently along, sometimes just shouting to have my thoughts take existence. The other day I read through some of my archives and marveled at how free I felt I could be with my words and images -- how even in midst of grief or upheaval I still counted myself and my brain tempests worthy of expending beautiful phrases and lengthy posts. And look at my silly tags and titles! They make me feel six kinds of sad-yearning-affectionate nostalgia; I wish I'd recorded all the journal names I've gone through.
I remember Chapter 4: Morose-Colored Glasses.
Chapter 5: The Hall of Mirrors is now over.
Over the next few days, I'll be cleaning most of the crossposts out of this journal, so that it'll remain an archive of the content originally posted here. If you've come back here after a long hiatus and would like to know where I've wandered off by now, please comment (screened, but I'll get email notifications) and I will leave you a metaphorical forwarding address.
I've gone through a lot here, and met kinder people than I deserve. My first major fandom experience was on Livejournal. I talked through sexuality, religion, philosophy, loss -- sometimes in discussion with others, sometimes guided patiently along, sometimes just shouting to have my thoughts take existence. The other day I read through some of my archives and marveled at how free I felt I could be with my words and images -- how even in midst of grief or upheaval I still counted myself and my brain tempests worthy of expending beautiful phrases and lengthy posts. And look at my silly tags and titles! They make me feel six kinds of sad-yearning-affectionate nostalgia; I wish I'd recorded all the journal names I've gone through.
I remember Chapter 4: Morose-Colored Glasses.
Chapter 5: The Hall of Mirrors is now over.
Over the next few days, I'll be cleaning most of the crossposts out of this journal, so that it'll remain an archive of the content originally posted here. If you've come back here after a long hiatus and would like to know where I've wandered off by now, please comment (screened, but I'll get email notifications) and I will leave you a metaphorical forwarding address.