The Internet: Allowing people to publicly whine about not being noticed since 1995.

Suite101.com declined my deathless prose. I am not as surprised by this as I would have been had they not posted their ’10 Golden Rules of Internet Writing’ on the confirmation page for the application — evidently their idea of a little gag. Ten seconds past confirming that sucker, and I knew I was screwed. Turns out those little dry sticks of articles that *ahem* convinced me I was a shoo-in are actually the house style. Oopsie.

So once again the search for an appropriate home for my writing aspirations has foundered. The ‘am I good enough for publication’ hurdle has been well and truly breached, and my horizons are all set to be broadened; the trouble is that what I write seems to fall, messily, between several different cracks.

I can write on specific subjects, but am hampered by the conviction that most everybody I’m writing for already knows more about whatever-it-is than me. I have no university education, no way to claim expertise. Besides, I can only prattle on for so long before getting deadly bored with myself and deciding to liven up the joint.
So instead I’ve honed a knack for what you might call comic appreciation. To put it another way, I can review things fine, but it always seems to turn out funny… look, you in the back, this is where you just go with me, ‘kay? OK.

I can pick out the odd and irrelevant and downright strange and turn it to at least some kind of account. Which I had figured would make me a natural negotiator through the pop-cult wilderness, but the one time I proposed a column on those lines to PopMatters, it was turned down as not focussed enough. Apparently you need to be a certified expert even in celebrity gossip, which raises the disturbing spectre of Perez Hilton: Career Counselor. I’m too wholesome to be slapped! …but I’m also a bit sick of being asked when the tea and cookies show up.

All told I still think of myself as a would-be humourist, anyway, as the closest thing to a category I’d fall under. In various unofficial fora I have recapped, ranted and mused, and people have laughed in turn. So far, so good. Thing is, I have no idea where one goes to become an official Humour Writer. There doesn’t seem to be any online application labeled ‘Future Erma Bombecks needed here!’ Unless I just haven’t been looking in the right places, in which case, any direction available would be most welcome.

The simplest route to recognition would likely be to pick a popular show and start recapping again, but that would mean dealing with fan wank. And I really, really don’t wanna do that… to either myself or the fans in question. You have to sincerely buy into the machine to at least some degree, in fandom (see note about quickly getting bored and deciding to do something about it, above, and shudder).

So the search continues. Just by way of convincing myself that I’m not totally delusional, I will point out that my writing style has been dubbed ‘unusual and nice’ by a commenter on WordPress.

And then I will go over to Suite101.com, read their ‘golden’ articles, and snicker quietly to myself.

Or maybe you think I’m lucky/to have something to do

So yeah, updating. Sorry about that. Jasmine has since discovered the delights of sitting on human laps, albeit not the fine points. It’s kind of hard to type and keep her from tumbling off at the same time.

It’s not that I’ve been suffering for topics, either. For one thing, the kitten cuteness level around here has been off the charts. Work has been off the rails. And the geekiness has been right off the scale. It’s just that somehow I’ve gotten out of the habit of recording it on – uh – what do they call it if it’s not paper, anyway?
I remember how my first word processor — something like, oh gosh, Office 10,000 BC or so — had a ‘parchment’ background option. It could also do Comic Sans MS in teal. I was over the moon…

[short pause to rummage around in My Documents]

Ah, here we are. *chuckles gently to self* I remember now, what they call it.

Fun.

I don’t even *want* to know who Gordon Tullock is. Really.

I was going to throw out the results as a bad job, but then I started looking more closely, and… I do think an interest has developed. Or something.

Based on the lj interests lists of those who share my more unusual interests, the interests suggestion meme thinks I might be interested in:

1. humor score: 2
2. george smith patton jr. score: 1
3. dick cavett score: 1
4. plato score: 1
5. game theory score: 1
6. anarchocapitalism score: 1
7. spongebob squarepants score: 1
8. michael mann score: 1
9. moby dick score: 1
10. george gershwin score: 1
11. oman-kuu score: 1
12. sneaking up behind you score: 1
13. armenian score: 1
14. jean shepherd score: 1
15. paws score: 1
16. foetus score: 1
17. losing track of time score: 1
18. tsuchiya koitsu score: 1
19. martin van buren score: 1
20. gordon tullock score: 1

Type your username here to find out what interests it suggests for you.

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You don’t say…

Witness services involve frequent question-and-answer discussions. Since my ability to sit quietly and listen is on a par with an ADD toddler just post-Froot Loops, I tend to participate in these discussions a lot. Using much the same style as I do in print, in fact [insert ‘Not now Shoe, there’s a time limit’ gag here].

So after services tonight, a friend comes up to me. "I enjoyed your comments."

I smile and say thanks.

"No, really…you should write a novel. I would totally sit there enthralled for hours, reading it."

Truth in Flattery: Friend and wife are moving this Friday, meaning friend is currently exhausted, not to mention has been huffing fresh paint fumes for the past week.

But still.
 

Nice post of niceness

OK, I’m officially on an upswing this week. Found a pair of slinky jeans that fit perfectly and everything. Down two sizes from last year’s purchase, too. Turning thirty-eight? Hah! I laugh at turning thirty-eight!

Well, alright, I don’t really. But the jeans definitely helped. So did the cute sneakers – do they still call them sneakers? I just realised I may with one word have completely undone all the jeans’ good work. Excuse it please. They’re New Balance, and according to the endearingly typical salesdude @ Athletic World they’re ‘very ergonomic fit, good for the high-intensity urban environment’. Translation: I’m all kitted out for the summer’s hiking. Which is nice.

So is the response I just got from my very nice former PopMatters editor re: my most recent feature submission: he definitely remembers me, and will be pleased to take a look at my essay ASAP. This, of course, being the flat print version of “OMIGOSH HE REMEMBERED ME! I TOTALLY DID NOT EXPECT THAT! DO THEY REALLY DO THAT?!”
…aaaaaand the sophistication level slips another notch. I don’t care. Frankly at this point I am not even really worried about the article getting in or not – although it would be huge if it did, don’t get me wrong – I am just so pleased to be remembered. Makes me feel all…professional, and stuff.

Meaanwhile, the plotting ideas for finishing the sci-fi novel keep on keepin’ on, popping into my head apace. Apparently, my subconscious really wants to revisit this thing, so I guess the Grand Sweeping Epic of Everything will have to wait a bit. Sorry, anybody who was waiting breathless.

Last but definitely not least, it came time for my bimonthly flash of renewed interest in Kalan Porter, ex-Idol moppet and current…baby-faced blond dude with big china-blue eyes and some stubble. There’s a ways to go yet, is all I am saying, deliberately ironic blogging or no. Still, they did pose him with a glass in his hand for the scanned article I read, and there doesn’t seem to have been any angsting in the fandom about a possible drink problem as a result, which I think qualifies as serious progress.

(I, on the other hand, have regressed dreadfully. Because I now cannot get out of my head the impulse to pop in and start some angsting, just for giggles. I think my next rant post will have to deal with how fandom rots your brain.)

Anyway, in the article Kalan describes his new music as ‘kind of synth-pop…fun…very uptempo’. Now, as has been chronicled elsewhere, I adore synth-pop. Have done for years. Always assuming Kalan is talking Thompson Twins and not Aqua – the emphasis on ‘fun’ is especially worrisome – but that’s a risk I am prepared to take. Go ye forth into the world and tweak those keyboards, KP. I may yet realise my dream of hearing the Weird Scathing Angst factor performed deliberately, rather than frantically wishing it there myself in an effort to salvage coolness points.

Now, to bed…perchance to dream of the Niceness Wave spilling over Finance. “Why, yes, you can have this new vendor record # processed overnight! Urgent purchase orders approved without budget dollars available? No problem, our pleasure!”

Would it help if it came through a window?

As mentioned once or twice, I use a basic statcounter to track visitors to this blog. Partly to check numbers, and partly because I like to see where they’ve come from. This is generally a minor pleasure at best, but every so often…

"Referring link: Google search string giraffe-comes-through-door-cary-grant"

…For the record, it led the searcher to my review of the movie Holiday, which amazingly enough does indeed contain both those elements, albeit probably not in the order they were expecting. I really hope they enjoyed it anyway, though.

For once, I am ahead of the Net-geek curve.

Really, lemme work this for a bit, this is a very big moment for me. I am still quoting Barenaked Ladies lyrics, that is how behind-the-memes I traditionally am. We won’t even get into how the only cute guys in my icon collection date back to the Eisenhower era, and frankly weren’t all that cute even then (unless we’re still counting Dork Cute…are we?)

No, for once I managed to align my stars correctly with the Net fairies’ goodwill, or whatever it takes. While all about me is woe and anxious scrambling to avoid a looming LiveJournal meltdown, I find myself sitting prettily avast this mirror blog, started a couple months ago. What’s more, in order to create the WP site, I had to find a quick and simple way to import my LJ posts, thus ljarchive already installed and ready to queue up at a moment’s notice. For this brief, shining moment, I am a preparation goddess.

I wish I could say all this was the result of shrewd intuition. The truth is, as noted at the time, I just wanted to play around a bit with ‘real blogging’, with the focus on content rather than the comments. Mind, I do like the community aspect inasmuch as it allows you to more or less instantly access new and fresh worldviews, without losing control over your own individuality. While I don’t have a lot of LJ-friends, they’ve all been carefully chosen, and I’d miss every one.

So in the event it all does go crash, I’ve been carefully gathering up contact notes. I may even watch a couple Futurama eps for inspiration…uh, or is it Heroes, now?

In which Shoe gets personal, and we see where that leads…

I have very good friends.

This became evident during this past four-day stay-cation weekend. I had some paid days to burn off and decided to spend them questing a little further in search of feedback. It having occurred to me during that last fit of whining about it that I hadn’t ever actually just, y’know, asked people for some.

My first foray involved an LJ review site. After checking out some of their previous reviews, I applied with the pleasant assurance that they’d find me a step above the herd, at the least. No emo poetry on this journal!

Ah, yeah. I’m still pretty proud of the ‘no emo poetry’ thing, no question, but – well, if you’re reading this, chances are you know where we go from here. The general gist involved too much rambling, also a ‘lack of interesting or engaging content’, specifically the personal touch. I needed to take chances, to ‘spill my guts’…or at least, something like the ‘story of how you once almost got a tattoo on your right breast’.

(The best thing about the whole experience was actually Shoemom’s failure to pick up the hypothetical there, when I asked her to read the review. “You did WHAT? On WHERE?”)

Didn’t help much in dealing with the criticism, though. The ensuing crisis of confidence, here @ Shoe Central, is when I developed a new theory of true friendship: it’s what causes the people you run panicking to over bad reviews, instead of merely patting your hand and going “Mean ol’critic!’, to instead take the time to gently-but-firmly point out that yes, you have flaws, but no, it’s by no means the end of the world, let alone your writing career. Although you’re right, nobody else cares about the damn comedy team already.

Look, the reason I don’t get deep into the personal around here is pretty simple: The Shoe story is just really, really boring, with a side order of unpleasant. There is verbal abuse and depression and struggles with weight and nerdiness, and occasional existential crises, and that one nagging incident where memory tells me I saw an episode of a favourite TV series, I discovered later, about a year before it was actually frelling made. (No, it doesn’t hurt much, but it does make the Matrix flicks rather uncomfortable viewing.)

Outside the immediate region of my navel, there’s also the part where the one Shoesis is a gorgeous slender blonde chick with so little self-esteem Shoemom and I have had to rescue her from no less than five total losers over the past few years… Eventually we’ll have to get into the story of the one paternal uncle who’s contrived to drive three wives to nervous breakdowns while accumulating five kids, and trust me, neither of us wants that.

Put bluntly, I am inclined both by nature and nurture to suck it up, princess. Even listing the above broad outlines gives me an uncomfortable sense of over-reaching both peoples’ interest and sympathy. Thus – not un-naturally I’d thought – I’ve been treating my online life as a distraction from all that, trying to find topics much more interesting and engaging while treating of my personal life in a gentle, inconsequential fashion to avoid it intruding. I do believe this qualifies for both the orthodox and Alanis definitions of irony.

The other problem draws on from that one – I’ve been treating this blog as a writing project. Which is fine as far as it goes, but does leave me alarmingly dependent on the goodwill of audiences; as was gently-but-constructively brought home to me this weekend, you can’t just leave your rough drafts lying around without people coming to the conclusion that they might as well wait until things get sorted out.

Especially when you’re in as dire need of a firm-handed editor as I am. I do ramble hopelessly, I know that; albeit you’d be amazed at what I manage to take out. It doesn’t help that my first taste of online writing success came in an environment (ie, TWoP-style Idol recaps) in which I was not only praised but encouraged to be clever at length on multiple obscure topics. I came away from it with perhaps rather an inflated sense of myself as too precious for words.

So…I have some things to work on, and more to think about. I have to find a more suitable place for my essay-style pop-culture pieces, is what I think first of all. I do have some decent ideas in that direction. In the meanwhile…well, the people that have stuck around in some cases since the beginning, thanks. I now have a much clearer idea of how not to try your patience, as much. Although the comedy team may still be making occasional appearances…look, I don’t get on your case about Dr Who, you leave me to Bob & Ray. And somehow we’ll figure it all out.

Huh. Well.

So the Gender Tracker thinks I’m a man. This is not particularly unexpected, as wherever I post online, people routinely identify me as male. It bugged a bit at first, but I’ve long since learned to think of it as a compliment.

Kind of a weird compliment in this case, though. I mean, didn’t the fascination with Kalan Porter tip anybody off?

…wait, don’t answer that.

Picks self up, glances around cautiously…

…So I rustled up a few ‘How to Attract More Traffic to Your Blog’ articles, and interestingly enough, their advice is the same: Start by taking an active interest in others’ blogs, reaching out to those with similar interests, reading their posts and commenting.

Well. Whaddaya know about that.

[blushes slightly]

*****************************************

In other news, och, am I gonna be grateful when this American election mania dies down. It’s starting to affect even the funnest, most lightweight ‘other blogs’ I visit – of all places the Comics Curmudgeon came down with a bad case the other day, and it still hasn’t fully recovered. Snopes.com has been all ‘Here’re the latest outlandishly stupid rumours an hysterically paranoid populace are taking as gospel’ for weeks now. It gets dispiriting.

(If I could persuade myself that the one troll on the CC was putting on an elaborate, Dr. Strangelove-style show, it would make me feel quite a lot better. Alas, my faith is at al all-time low. These people really do hate each other, don’t they?)

Thank goodness for blogs emanating from Australia, is all I can say. Specifically, that of LJ-friend lizbee, dedicated Tudors-watcher.