amyhit

Today:

8 hours on a bus

(12 hours previous spent worrying about not being able to pick up ticket w/out my photo id, which is missing after the other night with the thirty-four year old.)

120 pages of The Fountainhead read

Scanning MASSIVE AMOUNTS of fanart onto the computer in a post-midnight frenzy, as I do not own a scanner and must take quick advantage of my mother's while I'm here.

Tomorrow:

Awake at 7 a.m., driving to the middle of nowhere, to visit distant relatives I know nothing about.


...and yet, vacations, once you get the hang of them, are pretty decent.

Title: A Knife Into Play
Author: amyhit
Summary: Right now, Mulder, I think you could get away with just about anything.
Rating: PG (plus swearing)
Spoilers: CancerArc - Zero Sum, Small Potatoes.
Disclaimers: Not mine.

Author’s Notes: This fic is a Post Ep. for Zero Sum. It's become something of an unintentional exploration - of voice, and of the ambivalence of the M/S dynamic. I've had it shelved for about a year. However, I am of the mind that there are not enough (non-AU) CancerArc fics in the world, so despite the fact that fanfic of mine that is older than a few months generally makes me cringe (and thus gets shelved), this fic has been something of a pet. When I dug it out I had intended to merely hang it over the line and thump the dust out of it. Two thousand+ additional words later, here's what's come of it. *shrugs* tree, your beta was insightful and precise as ever - thank you.


( He'll play on her guilt and live with his own. )

Out of curiosity, is there a particularly good time (of the week) to post fanfic? I always find myself wondering this just before I post. Perhaps the weekend, because potential readers will likely not be busy with job related activities? Or the beginning of the week because everyone hates Mondays, and is therefore looking to welcome a little diversion into their heads? Or the end of the week, because people are beginning to dream of the weekend and the focus they place on their practical lives is slipping, but they aren't yet occupied with the weekend's chores/social activities?

By acknowledging that I think about this, I'm pretty much admitting that I care a fair bit if people read my fanfic. Still, I'd like to know other fan's theories on this issue. Surely I'm not the only (hopelessly neurotic) person to wonder about this.

Sissy: “Have you had sex with girls much before?”

Jellybean: “Only since I’ve been at the Rubber Rose Ranch. Between Miss Adrian and Delores, every eligible male’s been scared away from here, and there’s usually trouble of one kind or another if we fool around with the hicks in Mottburg. That leaves your fingers or other women, and at least half the cowgirl on the ranch have been in each other’s pants by now. There’s not a queer among ‘em, either. It’s just a nice, natural thing to do. Girls are so close and soft. Why did it take me all these years to learn that it’s okay to roll around with ‘em?”




I ramble, I rant, I am frank with my graphic language. I really try not to say anything that could possibly be interpreted as Anti-Lesbian or Anti-Feminist. I possibly fail without having any idea how. I warn anyone who might have the time to waste reading my rant that it really isn't very good, that I am talking - er- typing out loud, and that my musings may be off putting to them personally. I post said musings anyway, against my better judgment --->

( Dear Mr. Robbins, )


ETA: While I do not feel that my above argument is, in and of itself, entirely false, I have now finished this novel and feel that to focus on one specific passage (a highly interpretable passage no less) and bombard it with criticism, is to cast an inaccurate light on a novel that stands as one of the most liberating and humanistic novels out there. Should anyone read this entry in backlog (highly unlikely though it may be) I would like them to take note that this reader *points to self* would like to give Even Cowgirls Get the Blues two large opposable digits up.

Why do I do these damn memes? I see them and I can't help myself. I know that no one cares about my television watching tendencies but me. Yet the desire to muse and consider and file everything away into these tidy little provided compartments is irresistible.

So here is my ( COMPREHENSIVE TELEVISION HISTORY )



(thrilling, no?)

Feel free to fall prey to the desire to fill out this meme yourself. It’s a better waste of time than Minesweeper, guaranteed.

Wow! Slapdash typology 101! It's 4 AM and I'm writing without paying attention. Tomorrow I will come back to this and realize my usually high level of spelling and grammatical errors has merged and become some hybridized not-English.



Mother and Aunt - Enneagram 2s (direction of disintegration is toward 8): --focus is often wrapped up in pleasing others, with the hope of love and validation returned.
Grandmother - Enneagram 8: As an 8 parent you can be too strong and definite. You sound out your commands and lack patience.

For as long as I can remember, my mother has hated my grandmother. Loved her, I guess, but hated her. Hated her decisive reductionism, hated her indifferent criticism, hated the outright contempt for my mother's significant others. My grandmother once called my mother's significant other of six years an alcoholic. It wasn't true, exactly, but it sure struck close enough. My mother, sobbing horrendously the whole time - threw my grandmother's things into her car - suitcase half zipped - and very nearly made her begin the drive home to Edmonton that very night. Twelve hours driving in the dark. All of 9 years old, I was camped out eating ice cream in the living room, on the edge of my seat. I sure hoped I could still go back with her for the summer holiday's like it had been arranged I would. Grandma was 21 years old when she had her first child, I said to my Aunt yesterday. And in the 1940's - god - I can't imagine-- hell, I'm 21. Yes, but she was very selfish, my Aunt says. My Aunt and I are eating lunch at the aquarium. I watch the whales drifting massively over the bottom of their tank. My grandmother is losing her mind now, and she'll die soon. These things happen. Even still, I wonder how it is for them - my mother, my aunt. No one ever says what it was my grandmother did.


Me - Enneagram 5
A 2 wants to please and expects repayment of appreciation and emotion, yet a 5 is typically private and skeptical of someone who gives too much, which can feel invasive to them. This couple is fraught with misinterpretations and disappointments.

For as long as I can remember, my mother and I have been nothing more than carefully kind to each other. She told me when I was 16, in a fit of anger, to get out. In the morning you go, she said. I'll go now, I said. And I did go. I never really came back. This divergence has left us strangely relieved. I, relieved to no longer have someone trying to mother me all the time, and she, relieved that she has not alienated me entirely, I think, the way her mother did her. I used to do all the wrong things - headstands on the couch, screaming my fear in the hall at night until my mother would lock my in my room to scream entirely alone. I never finished the last two bites of dinner, no matter what it was. Drove her crazy. I used to ask my mother, twice a day, three times: when's Daddy Day? When you're five years old, 'Friday' means nothing - someone needs to tell you, "Three sleeps" or else you're pretty sure it'll never come. When's Daddy Day? When's Daddy Day? I think, with sadness yet without remorse, of how badly that question must have hurt her. Every. Single. Time.


5s and 8s often do well together. 5s admire 8s directness. This is refreshing for 5s, who spend too much time thinking before acting.

For as long as I can remember my grandmother and I have been the only two relatives in our close family that we both seem to like. Like, though, is a ridiculous word. Now respect-- there, that's it. She tells me my skin's gotten bad - "those hormones, I had 'em too" - and offers to sew me a dress for back to school. She knows "the kids today wear all that fancy stuff from those stores in the mall" - she doesn't care. She wants to sew me a dress. She drags me - 14 years old and indifferent to everything - into a fabric store, where we haul through the rolls of fabric for hours. My grandmother is 4'9". I have to help her drag the floral prints down from a higher rack. At her small retirement flat she sticks me with straight pins and comments on the wide set of my waist, which I am grievously aware is out of proportion with my skinny limbs. I am 14 and secretly becoming anorexic and I tear myself away from her, getting stuck with another pin. I leave, trouncing, and come back with a donut from the shop down the road. She takes me by the arm and guides me back towards the sewing table. "I can't eat any of that shop food - allergic to the yeast they use." My grandmother was one of 17 children. She was molested by her uncle. For decades she has insisted she is allergic to everything. I'm scared all the time and I feel so ugly and I'm beginning to believe my only hope is to be thin. She continues her measurements. No one apologizes.

ETA Two Warnings: 1. I'm being pretentious again. 2. I'm yapping about your fanfic again. Yeah, you, person on my flist. And OPINION is a very big keyword here, so if it's going to make you feel like telling me off about how poorly I'm interpreting your work, I'd really appreciate it if you'd ignore me instead. (not that this has ever happened. you've all been really nice.)


Ever since Khyber posted his fic, The Fall of Our Summer, I've been a little hung up on the idea of 'horror' within the X-Files fandom, both as a genre and empiricaly as an idea. Was The X-Files, when it aired, ever truly within the realm of horror as a genre, or did it skirt the genre in favor of intellectual reservation and subtle drama? I think many would state that it was well within horror's realm. So why is horror seemingly one of the first elements - both in content and tone - to be muted within fanon's many contexts? Is horror difficult to write in an artistic/technical sense, or simply painful to be open to emotionally? Is it avoided by readers, or does it just not translate well, tonally, from screen to prose? How does horror even manifest within the X-Files universe, as written by fans?

Because random lists are fun, I have compiled one. Okay, another one. And because I was listening to the much adored Matt Good while I was brainstorming this, I've thumbtacked one of his songs to each of the fics referenced. Some of the songs are quite appropriate. Others not so much. But in case there are any Matt Good lovers on my flist, I've tacked those songs onto the post as a makeshift soundtrack of sorts.


HORROR and THE X-FILES: (ten fics, ten authors, ten takes on 'horror')
horror >noun 1 an intense feeling of fear, shock, or disgust. 2 a thing causing such a feeling. 3 intense dismay. 4 informal a bad or mischievous person, especially a child.
-ORIGIN Latin, from horrere 'shudder, (of hair) stand on end'.

Aristotle argued that the difference between horror and tragedy is plot. Tragedy is morally instructive because we follow the story of the tragic protagonist, and can see where he goes wrong and why. Horror just happens, and we learn nothing from it.




( Little Horror: a compilation )


Additionally: Little Horror: a soundtrack by Matthew Good

1. haven't slept in years -- 2. failing the rorschach test -- 3. while we were hunting rabbits -- 4. little terror -- 5. alert status red -- 6. a single explosion -- 7. tripoli -- 8. weapon -- 9. house of smoke and mirrors -- 10. fearless

Title: The Manxome Foe We Sought
Author: amyhit
Summary: "You and your pretty partner look awfully close."
Rating: PG
Spoilers: for Pusher, also for Beyond the Sea and Grotesque.
Disclaimer: Not mine.

Author's Notes: Mulder, Scully, literature, discussion, banter, and waiting. Why yes, I did write Stakeout Fic, but really, consider it a massive missing scene of sorts. This is something of an experimental piece. It references a lot of outside material. Having prior knowledge of the referenced texts is helpful but not necessary. tree deserves more than my thanks for betaing this one. She deserves possibly a parade (don't worry, V., even if you weren't 18 time zones away, I still couldn't commandeer a parade - you're safe from being mobbed by trombonists). All remaining mistakes are mine.

( Keep playing )

Title: The Manxome Foe We Sought
Author: amyhit
Summary: "You and your pretty partner look awfully close."
Rating: PG
Spoilers: for Pusher, also for Beyond the Sea and Grotesque.
Disclaimer: Not mine.

Author's Notes: Mulder, Scully, literature, discussion, banter, and waiting. Why yes, I did write Stakeout Fic, but really, consider it a massive missing scene of sorts. This is something of an experimental piece. It references a lot of outside material. Having prior knowledge of the referenced texts is helpful but not necessary. tree deserves more than my thanks for betaing this one. She deserves possibly a parade (don't worry, V., even if you weren't 18 time zones away, I still couldn't commandeer a parade - you're safe from being mobbed by trombonists). All remaining mistakes are mine. Further notes at the end--->

( Play )

Quick question:

I'm looking for a Character Death vignette in which Scully dies in a plane crash and Mulder grieves. I specifically remember the line, "You didn't know why you were still standing. The way you understood your love for her, it should have brought you to your knees." It's a really pretty and really sad little fic, and I can't find it. There's probably about a hundred Forums I could address about finding it, but I figured I'd ask my flist first, since everyone on it is an x-phile.