Pardon my absence.

I've had a remarkable number of bloggable thoughts jostling in my head for the past few days, but Circumstances have, as Circumstances occasionally will, intervened.

We've been having a drought in Colorado for the past three years. I'm sure many of you are aware of this. For those grateful that said drought has been broken, please send me money via PayPal.

Like when it only rains after I've washed my car, this time we're getting a solid week of rain because we had the carpet cleaned in our apartment. It's...damp at our house. It's been damp for what seems like eons. The carpet may not dry until 2004, who knows? Or it may rot away, hence the demand that you send money.* We'll probably wind up having to pay for it because jinxes aren't covered in the management company's insurance or something.

No Spike BtVS thoughts at the moment. I missed Mal's Caleb's appearance last week due to a defective VCR. (For those interested, the defective component was the user.)

Mars, Venus, Blah, Blah, Blah

However, speaking of Spike (and aren't I always?), I'm less than amused by the tedious TNN rechristening itself as Spike TV. It's typical, isn't it? A channel devoted to women is giving the future-affirming "Lifetime" moniker. A channel devoted to testosterone-targeted entertainment for men is named "Spike." Fast, violent, and final.

At this point, I just deleted about 900 words on the Mars-Venus theory that such diametrically opposing naming conventions reinforces. Those grateful for this show of forbearance on my part should send money.*

Descartes and Spike

I was also going to write more (well, I haven't written any yet, but I threatened to once, so it's not precisely a Mad Tea Party thing) about Cartesian dualism, based upon my current reading material, "The History of Knowledge" but it occurred to me that no one but me would care and that by the time I'd "thought" the essay in my head, I already knew what I was going to say so taking the time to type it all out would be merely transcribing, a thing I loathe.

Still, don't send Gratitude Money* for that one yet. It's all tied up with my half-baked theories about Spike BtVS and may yet see the light of day. I'm still brooding over that "soul" thing, and the way that vampires are supposedly not the people whose bodies they inhabit in spite of retaining the personality and memories of those people.

No, I wouldn't send money.* I might yet care enough to write it all down and inflict it upon the world.

In other news, I'm a raving egomaniac.

Well, okay, that's not news to anyone who knows me, but it's connected to this next bit of rambling and I always think it's good to get your premise out fast.

In another forum, I ran across (finally!) an answer to that age-old question, "Why are so many people in fandom so determined to push themselves and their idiotic and embarrassing opinions out in public?"

Okay, let's try that again, with a little courtesy this time.

Why do we see so many 500-part 'stories' that are essentially rambling dreck and yet for which the authors still demand a constant stream of praise? Why are so many people so loudly obnoxious on lists and in discussion groups? Why do people with very little to say insist upon saying it again and again? (Why are you looking at me?)

Okay. Not much courtesy in that, was there?

Once again, with restraint.

Why do people post stories, or beginnings of stories, and then post a note saying that if they don't get enough strokes and feedback, they won't finish the story and, further, they'll leave mad?

Why do people demand "payment" for the stories they choose to write and to share with others, as though the sheer act of creation was not, in and of itself, enough payment?

That's probably the best I can do on the courtesy front, so let's move on.

I ran across someone willing to stand up publicly and admit that they, and in their opinion most of us, don't get enough attention from other people. This person argued that most of us thrive or wither based upon our contact with Actual People. Based upon the affirmation of existence and worth we receive, or don't receive, on a daily basis from those around us.

So, all of these people I diss for demanding "payment" for the "work" (Hah!) they put into writing aren't trying to get "paid" at all. They're only writing* because they see that as an avenue for gaining attention, for gaining acknowledgement of their existence from other people and they're just not shy about demanding the attention and affirmation they're seeking. That's either honest or pathetic, I can't decide which. Maybe it's both.

(* If you think about it, this explains the mind-numbing volume of crappy fiction out there. They're only writing to get attention, so they don't care much about the actual writing.)

This is sad. I mean, I set out to be nice on this topic.

I was going to say that this blog entry made me finally, truly understand what all of these desperately screaming for attention fans are feeling, and here I am being all rude and stuff.

That's because, as I said previously, I'm a raving egomaniac who finds it inconceivable that anyone's opinion on any subject could be more interesting to me than mine, so mostly I don't require a lot of feedback for what I write or my opinions as expressed here. (Fortunately, since I don't get much feedback. It may be a chicken-and-egg style problem. I've occasionally wondered if I got a lot of feedback, how that might have changed my perception of the same, but I'll never know. It's quite possible that I'm taking this lofty, superior attitude toward feedback because my Inner Child got its feeling hurt when no one sent any. I mean, I doubt it, because my Inner Child is rarely interested in anything but potato chips and re-runs of Andy Griffith, but it's possible.)

Also because the people I care most about in my life give me plenty of attention and positive strokes, so I'm not starved that way. So, you know, I'm sending love and gratitude to the people I love, and you know who you are.

I'm a raving egomaniac and if not for your care and attention, I'd be a hundred times more obnoxious than I am, and the world really doesn't need that much more negative karma, does it?

Okay, enough with the mushiness already.

Speaking of writing

I did a trifle. It might be optimistic to call it the start of a story, so we'll think of it as a writing exercise. A purely mechanical placing of consecutive words in sentence format. This is in response to the demand (albeit a gentle and pleading one) for new XF. At some point, I'll go back, watch an episode or two, try and remember who these guys were and how their voices sounded, and write an actual story to fulfill my commitment. For anyone who cares, it's M/Sk and a first-time story.

In the meantime, I have to admit that my current OaT story attracts me more. Mostly because I've already got a story, and half a dozen humorous scenes, plus a sketch of most of the plot. Also because I wasn't as invested in OaT and am not suffering the trough of depression over how it sucked. I know the show sucked. It did have brilliant moments, though. And it's amazingly slashy, it's wide open for story possibilities, the boys are pretty, there's angst, there's comedy, and there are plot holes you could drive a slash convoy through. With all of that gong for it, it seems a little greedy to demand that it also have been quality entertainment.

In closing

I had more to say, but I've forgotten what it was.

I had a whole other bloggable topic with a snappy punchline (well, maybe it would have possessed one) and everything.

To recap:

It's raining.
Television is weird.
Read Descartes.
I'm a raving egomaniac.
I love my friends.

Looked at dispassionately, this is hardly the stuff of deathless entertainment for the casual reader, but thanks to #4 I don't have to care.

* Please don't actually send money.