Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!
Gawker Media has more readers than the top-circulation U.S. magazines ”
Last week when Jezebel published the piece about selfies (a topic I won’t get to because more valuable opinions than mine have already been written), people took to Twitter to discuss the issue and further express their stance on selfies. Several former and current Jezebel contributors pointed out that we shouldn’t talk about “Jezebel” but its individual writers (the old “but we are not like that” applied to media analysis). Examples of this calls to engage only with the writer rather than with Jezebel as a whole can be found on this Storify here.
At the link above, a Washington Post analysis of page views and reach for American mainstream media. This volume is far from the implication that we should engage Jezebel in the same way we engage an independent collective blog where there is no editorial policy or corporate overview of the content. Given the volume of page views, you cannot get more mainstream than Gawker owned properties.(via redlightpolitics)
But just don’t ask about my appetite
I didn’t lose it tonight
No, it’s been gone half my life
It’s just act, I’ve been eating for you ”
"I’ve Been Eating (For You)" lyrics by Conor Oberst5
So, I know I don’t do very many personal posts, but this one seems long overdue on account of a not-so-recent trend in my life that just won’t quit. So, I’ve been single for a while now, and during this time (and before it), really during the last few years of my life, I’ve been confronted with the same response/question…”Who are you?!”. By men & women alike, ages 18-28, I have been posed this question with a tone of incredulity that never ceases to surprise me. It always comes up after someone has been talking with me for some length of time, and as a reaction to my complete honest consideration of whatever the topic at hand may be. And the thing is, I understand the question. I get why I’m being asked it, and I understand the tone…but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t appear without issue for me.
The thing is, it always implies that I’m the girl you’ve been looking for, that my ‘realness’ is refreshing and just what you need. But, reality is…I can’t be just what you need, because I don’t exist to open your horizons and broaden your mind. Don’t get me wrong, I look for relationships where I will be able to expose my partner to new ideas and new experiences…but it goes both ways. I want that in return. I’m not trying to be selfish, or play hard to get…but I can’t be your gateway drug into a world of interdisciplinary critical reasoning and consciousness. You need to have dipped your toes into that pool already. And it’s nothing personal. I can wait until you’ve explored yourself, your mind, and your world in new ways. But, I can’t be your means & method for doing so. I just can’t.
I’m looking for people who’ve already considered so many things, who have, in a way, traversed a similar path (in terms of open-minded exploration). I’m not your manic pixie dream girl. This isn’t a movie, and I’m not here to save you from your mundane/corporate self. I get that I’m quirky, unconventional, cute, and quite blunt. I know that my interests are so varied that I probably take what you perceive to be a preternatural interest in your field of study, but trust me I’m not the only one. I’m a student of the world. I wish to study the universe & everything in it. I’m attracted to passion, and that’s probably why we know each other. But, that does not mean that I’m going to be as passionately into you as you might be, or become, to me. It’s so incredibly not personal, I can’t even explain. But I want you to find yourself, so that we can get truly lost in each other. And it’s ok, I realize this is a process with an unknown and mysterious trajectory. That doesn’t concern me. I’m not trying to be condescending, I’m just trying to save you from heartache.
As pretentious as this may sound, this is an honest bearing of my soul. I’ve just met too many people in the last three years or so who think that I’m the one without actually knowing me. And I don’t hold it against them, I just want them to understand that there are probably many “me’s”, but I’m the first person of my particular quirks and qualities that they’ve met. I can only hope that I’m not the last. But please, don’t idealize me. Falling in love with an idea is just that—chimeral—and painful for everyone involved.
So please, just see me as a human, wrought with faults like any other. And treat me as a friend, not as a person on a pedestal. Because, trust me, that column will crumble, and it is better to be left with a friend than a crushed image, an idea of what you believe was or could have been.
I don’t need to be your savior any more than I need to be your tragedy.