Awww, How Sweet, Our First Fight
I had a fairly boring Thanksgiving week, over the course of which I realized something very important. Or perhaps I should say I realized the importance of something I already knew: I am basically thrilled with my life.
I really don't have any kind of reliable financial situation. My place of residence is pretty unstable. Most of my friendships are acquaintances. I haven't been wowed by any particular club or party or event in a long time. (The 13 Ugly Men roast at HPC? Mainstream like a Midwestern couple in a sex club.) My therapist says my expectations are too high. For everything.
And yet I am thoroughly one hundred percent in love with the idea of freedom and opportunity, and I certainly have enough of that. So there are things that could use a little tinkering to be optimal in an idealistic sense, but I feel like, for the present, those things are exactly what they need to be in a cosmic sense.
What I don't feel is exactly as it should be is Midnight Culmination.
Frankly, what it comes down to in my mind is this: Writers write for two reasons - love and audience. My first love is fiction. Fiction's a tough market. Publication in national and academic journals is a big deal. I'm very, very good at the fiction, which you wouldn't know, because I don't show any of it here, but past and forthcoming publications speak for themselves.
So I've got the love and I've got the audience in the market I love.
And if this is beginning to sound like, "F*ck you, I don't need you," well, I would be very, very sorry about that, but, frankly, my dissatisfaction with Midnight Culmination doesn't stem from my contribution to it. I've got the love, but the audience kinda sucks.
I mean, who are you dozens of maniacs who send me such retarded emails? Seriously, I'm not mad or hurt or anything, though I've got enough insults stored away to last me years. I'm just sort of tired of it and mildly incredulous that so many people are such unhappy losers. I get many, many hits a day, but too many of them are people who wanna hate, even if it's just to fire a one-off and keep coming back later to read without comment. I've been sifting through it for months, and I don't know why I only realized how unnatural that is after a break, but, for real, it is not normal or healthy or good or any of those things I want my life to be.
And, um, people who work for the Times? I respect your paper quite a bit, and, obviously, I like that your company's culture supports blogging - keep at it! please! - but I totally know when it's you, you unprofessional slobs, and I always have. Time stamps have a funny way of lining up, so let's just stop it, OK?
All that silliness aside, though, the overwhelming conclusion in my mind is that something about Midnight Culmination makes people think unpleasant things. Since I've always made my self-satisfaction pretty clear, I don't really care what that something is. I do, however, care about creating a quality space where freedom, creativity, and love can sparkle and glow, so there will be changes in format and content this week and next.
If I'm still dissatisfied, we're kaput. If I end up as happy as I'd like to be, then we've reached a new level in our relationship, and isn't that what real love is about? Growing together and all that.
Either way, it will be a very, very good thing for me and maybe you, I promise.
I really don't have any kind of reliable financial situation. My place of residence is pretty unstable. Most of my friendships are acquaintances. I haven't been wowed by any particular club or party or event in a long time. (The 13 Ugly Men roast at HPC? Mainstream like a Midwestern couple in a sex club.) My therapist says my expectations are too high. For everything.
And yet I am thoroughly one hundred percent in love with the idea of freedom and opportunity, and I certainly have enough of that. So there are things that could use a little tinkering to be optimal in an idealistic sense, but I feel like, for the present, those things are exactly what they need to be in a cosmic sense.
What I don't feel is exactly as it should be is Midnight Culmination.
Frankly, what it comes down to in my mind is this: Writers write for two reasons - love and audience. My first love is fiction. Fiction's a tough market. Publication in national and academic journals is a big deal. I'm very, very good at the fiction, which you wouldn't know, because I don't show any of it here, but past and forthcoming publications speak for themselves.
So I've got the love and I've got the audience in the market I love.
And if this is beginning to sound like, "F*ck you, I don't need you," well, I would be very, very sorry about that, but, frankly, my dissatisfaction with Midnight Culmination doesn't stem from my contribution to it. I've got the love, but the audience kinda sucks.
I mean, who are you dozens of maniacs who send me such retarded emails? Seriously, I'm not mad or hurt or anything, though I've got enough insults stored away to last me years. I'm just sort of tired of it and mildly incredulous that so many people are such unhappy losers. I get many, many hits a day, but too many of them are people who wanna hate, even if it's just to fire a one-off and keep coming back later to read without comment. I've been sifting through it for months, and I don't know why I only realized how unnatural that is after a break, but, for real, it is not normal or healthy or good or any of those things I want my life to be.
And, um, people who work for the Times? I respect your paper quite a bit, and, obviously, I like that your company's culture supports blogging - keep at it! please! - but I totally know when it's you, you unprofessional slobs, and I always have. Time stamps have a funny way of lining up, so let's just stop it, OK?
All that silliness aside, though, the overwhelming conclusion in my mind is that something about Midnight Culmination makes people think unpleasant things. Since I've always made my self-satisfaction pretty clear, I don't really care what that something is. I do, however, care about creating a quality space where freedom, creativity, and love can sparkle and glow, so there will be changes in format and content this week and next.
If I'm still dissatisfied, we're kaput. If I end up as happy as I'd like to be, then we've reached a new level in our relationship, and isn't that what real love is about? Growing together and all that.
Either way, it will be a very, very good thing for me and maybe you, I promise.
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