I write things down when I have had a variety of thinks and want to share them, but also just for the simple pleasure of stringing words together. Just that. I like it. I love words. I love them in strings.*
And then people ask me things about what I’ve said and i realize I’ve basically said nothing at all. I have made no firm statement. I have neither agreed nor disagreed, I have expressed no strong opinion.
It’s just the act of putting one word in front of another about things I’ve thought about, it appeals to me. I write about things I am not done thinking about. I love it, what can I say. Should I stop? I don’t want to.
But then I think, you know, maybe that’s the point. Not everything has to be polarizing. Not everything has to be “you’re with me or you’re against me,” right? There’s still room for neither/nor. And if there isn’t, we should make some room for it again, because it’s fun. Not everything has to be a strong opinion for you to agree or disagree with. Right?
I’m not here to be right about things. I just like to think and write. An re-think, and write some more! And learn from someone else’s thinks, and re-think, and write again! The neverending cycle! That’s the middle ground where we just let things out and simmer them in this collective soup of thoughts and ideas. Not all of them are useful. Not all of them are right. None of it’s really meant to be right. It just is. That’s okay, right?
*I love you, wordstrings.
Well, I mean. He isn’t wrong.
He knows more about fandom than I would have expected. I might have reached the point where I’ve stopped being entirely surprised by that, but that’s more information about what goes on in fandom that I would have expected from someone on the powers that be side of things.
That’s not the art or the fics, that’s the politics of meta and argument and passionate debating about what it all means, in the end. Should I be surprised that anyone involved in a show would dig down that deep into our world to see that sort of thing? It’s not really about digging down anymore. That’s the wrong metaphor. Everything is on the surface now. I’ve stopped being surprised.
There is a point where fandom activity and discussion is about something beyond a piece of fiction, no matter how beautiful, well-written, well-acted, or well-shot. There’s a point where the language of fandom becomes a way to make sense of the world, and to determine what is right, and what is righteous, and what is a part of the problem. It’s the marriage of social justice and fandom, something many people want to conflate with slash fandom culture, or meta fandom culture, but is actually its own thing altogether.
Fandom is a community that starts with a piece of fiction, so it makes sense that the fan community would take the lessons it’s learning from social justice and see problems in that piece of fiction, or problems in interrogating and enjoying that piece of fiction, as community problems to be solved out loud. Sometimes it might seem ridiculous, but I think it comes from a good place. Fiction, and fandom, becomes the stage on which to have a different conversation, for good or for ill, rightly or wrongly.
In the sixties and seventies, wearing lipstick was seen as an act that made a woman complicit in her objectification as a sexualized ornament. In communist Croatia, wearing lipstick was an act of political rebellion. Sometimes things that seem trivial on the outside have a lot of meaning on the inside.
You can look at something from your own perspective and say, “but that’s silly, you’re blowing everything out of proportion, that little bit of fiction doesn’t really mean what you say it means.” But everything has a context. If you’re not on the inside, and don’t know what all those things mean in that universe, you won’t understand the message. Or maybe you’re right: maybe it’s completely wrong. That happens. Blown out of proportion, things going to extremes, ultimatums, emotions running too high. People tying things together that shouldn’t be. Or maybe it just doesn’t mean the same thing in your context. Maybe it’s just not a message for you.
Anyway. I can’t even tell where the fourth wall used to be anymore.
I answered an ask yesterday that included the phrase “official fan statements” and I realized I didn’t address the bizarreness of that concept.
Can you imagine if there were such a thing as an official fan statement?
Would we issue it like fatwa or an encyclical? Who would be responsible for such a thing? What would be the required qualifications? Would this person be elected? How long is their term? Would we elect them to represent fannish opinion only on certain sets of topics? Would we have a whole host of such authorities on different angles on canon? Or different characters? Would they sit at a long table all together like judges, deciding what’s right thinking for the fandom?
Maybe we’d rebel against such authorities. Maybe we’d do everything by committee. The Official Fan Statement Committee.
I can’t imagine we’d manage to agree on who’s going to chair it let alone the Terms of Reference. We’d never make it to the first meeting. How would you ensure representative membership? God, the arguments! That would never work. Imagine the agenda! If item one is “what we think is going on with Mary,” the meeting would never end.
Maybe we could vote on all issues via poll. We’re digital people, we could do that. But how do we know when we’ve reached quorum? We’d have to get a precise number of people who consider themselves members of the fandom at any given moment, then decide what quorum is based on a percentage of that. Presumably.
Would there be some kind of court of appeal? How would we address voter fraud issues?
This is why there are no official fan statements. This is an anarchist state.
At what point did Sherlock decide that John would be a acceptable flatmate? That was when he deduced that Mike Stamford was bringing him a potential one who had plenty of good reasons for needing a flatmate himself. Sherlock’s deductions (no strong ties, soldier, doctor, freshly back from a war) tell him enough to go on, as he says. He wasn’t looking for someone who would be perfect. He was looking for someone who would have him.
Sherlock hadn’t asked, “Who can I stand to share a flat with? Who will help me? Who will make my life better? Who will become my one and only friend?” He asked, “Who would have me for a flatmate?” Sherlock decides in that moment that John is alone enough, desperate enough, and possibly strong-stomached enough to be his flatmate.
He clearly has no clue who he’s just met. He has no idea at all how John is going to become central to his work and his life. He’s only solving an immediate problem. It’s less “he’s the one,” and more “this one is not going to say no if I offer him the second bedroom.” He’s so confident about it that he immediately moves in himself.
Though I suspect he also thinks John is kinda hot, because he’s flustered the next day when John drops by. We all know about Sherlock’s thing for soldiers. But that’s another story.
I watched the last ep of The Honourable Woman last night. Holy crap. If you are interested in:
Imagine if they’ve read your fics!! They probably would have been like, “OMG DAD YOU MET IVYBLOSSOM!?!?” And he would have said, “Wait, how do you know her?” “She writes Sherlock stories!” “Oh! About what?” “Uhhhhh……”
Haha! Except that “boss” in that context is a lady, so it would be “OMG MOM YOU KNOW IVY? What, she’s that excitable girl who comes over for drinks from time to time and never shuts up? Did you know that she updates twitter and the tumblr machine at work?”