The Five Strands of A Sedentary Empress

my hands are cold.

My refuge is in your world, you know?

I've been here, on these newly chalked pages, continuously for days now. Call it February blahs. Call it avoidance and laziness. Call it nothing better to do. I don't care what you call it, it's working for me.

I've been dodging in and out of journals since FTL began a few weeks ago, some which are incredibly familiar to me, some which are delightful and smell like new cars, and others still which I know I probably won't follow much after tomorrow. I'm curious about every writer, some more than others, and I relish the way we can move around in their world without leaving footprints or making a sound. But now, with the end of this round, will come a quieter period. I will limit my lurking to those I have come to depend on for insight, entertainment or common themes. Oh, I've added a few new items to my favourites list, and I'm looking forward to keeping up with those who write them, but I don't think I can be bothered to keep up with them all. I found it challenging to keep up with some for just these past few weeks.

So many people are writing entries inspired by Jenn's 'Tagged' challenge. I thought about doing it, too. The problem is that I don't think I could come up with anything which might be remotely original now, particularly about people whom we can already pick out of someone else's entry without much debate. I would want to be evasive so that I wouldn't run the risk of offending someone when they didn't ask to be centered out in the first place, or from saying the same old tired things I say about my favourites who already know how much I value their ideas. The problem is, I don't think I could pull off that kind of subtlety.

To be honest, I've been looking for myself in the entries of those who took up Jenn's challenge, and of course, I had trouble with every single one. I have no idea. I don't know if I'm perceived as funny, thoughtful, condescending, wind-baggish, wise, Wendy Whiner, thick, thin, or white bread with a slap of velveeta. This is not a fishing expedition, mind you, it's just that I was genuinely scratching my head over it and I know I'm not alone in this. I couldn't see any real standouts at all, aside from Acme's 'lovely boobs' statement (really hope this is Jenn, otherwise I got nothin'). And why should it matter, anyway? Well, the thing is, we all want to know, don't we? We are curious creatures who write to find answers and it is probably killing every single person in this contest to know which statement from column A could be connected to nicknames in column B. It was a bit of sinister genius on Jenn's part for starting this whole thing, if you ask me. I know I'm not the only one analyzing each point in each entry. We are hoping to be viewed with admiration and affection, but worry that we're one of the ones with 'why do you bother writing' type sentences. Even people I truly admire or like, through a different person's eyes, could quite understandibly be considered to be a complainer, a sniveller, and fat-chested blowheart. The perceptions get twisted, ever so slightly. Oddly fascinating.

I think it is also a little bizarre, in a way, that if you're someone who typically journals/blogs for your own benefit, to suddenly be faced with the reality that you are in fact being judged for writing about yourself. Isn't that crazy? Isn't it also kind of enlightening? I don't know. What I do think is kind of interesting is that I can see myself in the good and the bad, experiencing all sorts of conflicting emotions while taking in the thoughts of relative strangers. I go from feeling appreciated to feeling loathed in about 3.1 seconds. It's an effed up kind of torture.

So, if you think I'm a whiner, I can only say you don't have any idea what it's like to be in my head. I'm honest about it, I think, because a journal is supposed to be a way of purging as well as recording. I can't pretty up the truth just so it rolls off your eyes better. If you think I'm boring, then I would have to say, what the hell are you doing wasting precious minutes of your life reading about mine? If you can't take another word about my gallstones then I say wait a few years if you're a cheese-eating, red-meating devouring, fast-food loving, birth control taking, stressed out thinker with a close family member who has gallstones and then get back to me. If you think I preach too much, remember that I am writing to no one in particular, usually, and helloooo? It's my journal! I can start my own religion in here if I choose to! If you think I'm slow, that I include too many details, that I sound pretentious or stupid, I can only say that this is the way I write. It's my style, my way, it's part of the wiring, and I can tell you that my speaking voice and language is quite a bit different than what you're reading in here. Yes, I have been known to say 'dude' more than once a day, almost as many times as I say 'mother of pearl' or 'don't be such a gobshite'. I think my writing voice is the more genuine of the two, but I'm not completely certain, so how could you be?

If you like me, I'm flattered and I'm glad to have you read me. Odds are I read you as well, but you might not know that I do. I should probably comment more often.

I would rather dwell on this kind of thing rather than the stuff which is currently causing people to move closer to the ledge, though. I mean, even the worst criticism in someone else's journal isn't going to bring on a flood of tears here.

It's just nice to lose get lost in worlds without sounds or sharp edges, isn't it?