Awhile back, I pretty much ended a blog friendship over politics. I couldn’t understand how someone could judge their friends and even potential mate on the basis of their political views. There was some back and forth debate and things sort of came to a head when said blog friend said he would never be friends with someone who voted for Bush or something to that effect.
Well, I may not be a flaming queen, but even I can recognize the perfect line to storm out in a huff on so that’s pretty much what I did.
In retrospect, it’s terribly ironic that I was so adamant about the lunacy of choosing one’s social circle on the basis of political point of view that I stopped paying attention to someone who had a different take on politics than I did. Yes, not my best moment, to be sure, but…he started it!
I’m not sure exactly what got me thinking about this. Well, rather, I was reading Rachel Donadio’s NYT essay about how romances with mismatched literary partners always go Jane Austen in the end. Incidentally, I had no idea there was a dating site specifically dedicated to bringing together Ayn Rand devotees, www.theatlasphere.com . Thanks to Rachel Donadio, I now know it’s out there and, while I can’t say I’m exactly better for the knowledge, I’m endlessly more amused. I’m SO getting a profile on there and gaying it up to the extreme. My title will be “A is A…BITCHES!” or possibly, “Anyone wanna give me some FountainHEAD!?!” or “Who’s that bitch John Galt?” or even, “Looking for someone to Dagny my Taggart!” Look sharp for it, people, because I can’t imagine it’ll be up there for long.
Anyway, while literary concerns may not destroy friendships, cyber-friendships are particularly weird and fragile and prone to destruction at a whim. Particularly my own as I tend to go out of my way to find people who’s viewpoint is different from mine and offer very little of the positive support that is rampant on many blogs-cum-echo-chambers. Another sidenote, I swear to God, Kate, I will read all of Olivia’s Kiss soon. I do like the first chapter and want to read more, but my own writing has prevented me. Or something.
It occurs to me, though, that perhaps my disdain for what I consider prattle and fawning might be…selfish, I guess? It took me years to learn how to graciously accept a compliment back when I was a performer. I was one of those annoying people who always answered a, “I really loved your performance,” with something critical about it that possibly only I was aware of. Finally, I realized I was being a rude git and sometimes the congratulations are as important to one’s audience as one’s craft, so think whatever you like in your head but to the person kind enough to seek you out to specifically let you know you affected them, a sincere variation on “Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it,” is all that’s required.
So, in an effort to shore up any blog friendships that may have taken a hit and not have a repeat performance of me going all huffy queen, I guess I just want to sort of say thanks for reading and I hope you’ll continue to read and I’ll try to be more complimentary in the future.
But don’t hold your breath, bitches.
5 Comments
cyber-friendships are particularly weird and fragile and prone to destruction at a whim
Sooooo true. Handle your surviving cyber-friendships with care
I just loved the way you sneaked the anglicism ‘git’ into this post.
I really loved your performance as a huffy queen.
From Lake Wobegon Days, the new 95 Theses:
34. For fear of what it might do to me, you never paid me a compliment, and when other people did, you beat it away from me with a stick. “He certainly is looking nice and grown up.” He’d look a lot nicer if he did something about his skin. “That’s wonderful that he got that job.” Yeah, well, we’ll see how long it lasts. You trained me so well, I now perform this service for myself. I deflect every kind word directed to me, and my denials are much more extravagant than the praise. “Good speech.” Oh, it was way too long, I didn’t know what I was talking about, I was just blathering on and on, I was glad when it was over. I do this under the impression that it is humility, a becoming quality in a person. Actually, I am starved for a good word, but after the long drought of my youth, no word is quite good enough. “Good” isn’t enough. Under this thin veneer of modesty lies a monster of greed. I drive away every faint praise, beating my little chest, waiting to be named Sun-God, King of America, Idol of Millions, Bringer of Fire, the Great Haji, Thun-Dar The Boy Giant. I don’t want to say, “Thanks, glad you liked it.” I want to say, “Rise my people. Remove your faces from the carpet, stand, look me in the face.”
Oh I totally loved this one. Made me laugh and laugh.
Don’t go changing to try and please me.