I don't like closing threads. I don't like it because I've been there in the comments before and I know how frustrating it is when I have something cool-and-on-topic to say and the thread is now closed because of moderation issues. I've been there. And yet I've just closed my second thread in as many days.
I don't know how to say this any other way, but I am low on spoons right now.
I feel like I've made that pretty clear. I posted a nice depression-fueled meltdown two weeks ago. I've posted x-rays of my back, I've made everyone aware of my medication issues, I've opened up my soul and shared everything I have to share about how hard a year this is for me, what with Disability and Cancer and Cat Limping. I've given a goddamn blow-by-blow of my surgery and post-surgery issues in at least three major posts. (Probably more like a dozen.)
I like every person on this board. I want to be clear about that. If you are reading this: I like you. I'd serve you the frosty beverage of your choice, were you in my home to drink it and if I could get out of bed to serve it to you.
But I should not have to keep saying I am low on spoons right now.
So instead, I am going to say:
One. Read this post by Kate Harding. Savor it. Realize that I am feeling the same way or I wouldn't have sent you there. Note that Shapely Prose burned out in three years (2007-2010). Note that we're on Year 2 of my blogging career (2010-2012+). Think about that for a few minutes. Decide whether or not you want this blog to continue. If you do, keep reading. If you don't, by all means beat the rush by closing this browser and not coming back.
Two. If you are Not Offended by something I have written, but you feel the need to point out that Someone Somewhere Could Be Offended, if they were to read my words out of context, knowing nothing about me, and after having a really bad day, do not bother to inform me of this. You are not telling me anything I do not already know. If you are not offended, great -- look out for your own self, and do not feel the need to speak for people who are not here and may not technically even exist.
Three. If you are confused about something I am saying, feel free to say "I am confused, Ana, can you clarify, please when you have time?" Do not tell me what you think I am doing/saying/thinking. Do not tell me what you think I would do/say/think in a specific circumstance. My Husband, Mother, and Father -- the three people who know me best in the world -- consistently get me wrong on these points. Why do you think that you, Internet Stranger, have deeper insight into me than I do? I cannot say this loudly enough: You do not know everything about me.
Four. I am so serious about Three, I can't even. If you find yourself saying, "I think you, Ana, would do X in Y circumstance," delete that post and walk away because the alternative is for me to delete that post and possibly close the thread out of rage-fury. You do not know me. The invitation to Read My Blog does not imply an invitation to Guess My Hypothetical Responses or Armchair Psychology Me or anything else along those lines. Telling me what you think I would do in a hypothetical situation -- instead of just asking me what I would do -- is abominably rude where I come from. Telling me what you think I am thinking -- instead of just asking me what I'm thinking -- is beyond the pale.
Five. Numbers Two-Three-and-Four can be summed up as Speak For Yourself Here. I do not want to hear people relay the opinions of someone-they-knew-once-and-may-be-quoting-entirely-out-of-context. This blog is not for playing The Telephone Game. If someone reading this blog is offended, they will speak up. I don't want or need White Knights here to tell everyone what all the Marginalized People Out There In The Wide World think. There are plenty of marginalized people already reading this blog and they will tell us their opinions should they so choose. I hate-hate-hate the "well, I knew a disabled person once and they thought" tactic because it's been used against me so many times in conversations on disability. I will not have that sort of thing going on here, not even if the intention is good. TL;DR: You are not here to Educate The Masses about a position that you don't personally hold (see Two).
Six. just so we're absolutely clear, this is a Safe Space for people comfortable with feminism and fat acceptance and QUILTBAG issues. Asking 101 questions politely is fine. Forcing people to grind a lively discussion to a halt in order to educate you on basic 101 issues is not. If you do not understand why consent is important in feminism or why outing QUILTBAG people is more dangerous and insidious than mere "gossip", then you need to go educate yourself on this. If I tell you that you need to go educate yourself on something, you need to do it. Digging deeper into the argument because your time is too precious to google marginalized issues will ensure I close the topic and everyone can hate you for ruining the party.
Seven. In slight contrast to Six, this is also a (relatively) Moderate Space because I think there is room for a lot of different viewpoints in the world. I am not interested in catering to the Lowest Common Denominator where everything is Cultural Appropriation because the ancient Sumerians came up with headbands first and wearing skirts is offensive to Greeks because they did it first. Let's be clear: You are welcome to hold those positions. You are welcome to talk about them. You are not welcome to act like these opinions are Self-Evident Truths. You are not welcome to accuse the blog mistress of acting in bad faith if she fails to adhere to the hardest line possible on all issues, ever. I enjoy providing a space to discuss these things with open minded people. I do not enjoy being accused of cultural appropriation for expressing a one-off light-hearted opinion for an Open Thread Day that saris look comfortable.
Eight. Seriously. That example above? Is not facetious. I said -- this is not a direct quote, but a very close paraphrase -- that I've never worn a sari but that I thought they "look comfy". That was pointed out as potentially offensive to Someone Somewhere (see point Two). Not me wearing saris, which I haven't done and haven't suggested that I'm going to do, but me expressing a positive-and-affirming opinion on how they look. I don't fucking need that drama. Not when, as previously mentioned, I am low on spoons. Here are a list of other things I think look pretty: Those tiny hair braids whose name I can't remember now. Facial jewelry, particularly the kind that sort of sticks into place around the eyes and forehead. Decorated walking canes. Pixie haircuts on fat women. If you feel the need to accuse me of cultural appropriation for holding those opinions, this is not the blog for you.
Nine. Really, this may not be the blog for you. I don't mean that in a mean way; I mean that in a factual way. If you came for the Hilarious Ripping On Twilight but find yourself increasingly bothered by the fact that this blog is either Too Feminist or Not Feminist Enough, you may need to accept that I'm not someone you want to read. I express opinions and use humor here that isn't going to be right for everyone on earth. Please don't try to change me; just change what blogs you read so that you're reading something you enjoy more. Because I guaran-fucking-tee I am not going to be changed by an avalanche of nitpicks, unless by "change" we mean "start getting a twitchier banfinger" and "closing threads on a dime". I like who I am right now; please respect that and don't try to change me into the blogger you'd prefer me to be.
Ten. These threads? Take time to post. I put 40 hours a week, easily, into providing content for this blog. And the comments that pick apart every little thing because I dared to say something that Someone Somewhere might find offensive? They take five minutes to write. I am not interested in putting 40 hours a week into a blog -- a free blog, I might add, as those Google Ads on the side of the page bring me about $2 a month, to be paid in installments of $100 sometime in the year Never -- so that Random Internet Strangers can tell me (a) what a shit human being I am and (b) what I am *really* thinking in my So Easy To Analyze head.
Eleven. I don't know how many different ways to write the comments policy saying "please be nice in Ana's space, especially to Ana who works hard and has feelings". I don't know how many different whiny, self-aggrandizing I am low on spoons posts I have to write in order to cue people in to maybe being courteous to that fact before posting something about how I'm -- in the nicest, most polite way possible -- a shit human being. But here is one more on the pile.
Twelve. I'm taking the rest of the day off. I'm closing comments to this thread because I don't want a bunch of unmoderated drama about saris or feminism or cultural appropriation. If you read this and want to send me nice affirmations, you can email me with the red Gmail button in the upper left hand corner or by clicking here. If you want to tell me how much you think I'm wrong, save it; you're not telling me anything the Magical Depression Meds don't tell me every minute of every day of the last two months of my life.