Anna S. (eliade) wrote,
Anna S.
eliade

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Notes to Friends

I gacked this meme from sparkledark. She's a frood who knows where her towel is...er, sorry, that was just my slang skidding on the ice and getting away from me. Anyway, I didn't see a real explanation for the meme, but it seemed pretty clear--the gist being that you write a brief personal note to each LJ User you've friended, but without direct address.

It reminds me of yearbook inscriptions, and I never got to write any when I was in high school, so here's my chance. Also, I am a sucker for these types of memes (though not for the ones that quiz you to find out which type of cheese you are), and so I figured I could kill two birds with one stone by avoiding writing and playing around with my LJ.

I took out the "First Evil" (sorry, guy) and the meta-type blogs. Otherwise, they're all there.


Friends Yearbook

I'm watching this space. I'm tuning into your channel. And vice versa.

When I read about the personal responsibilities you shoulder, and the things you've been through, I feel humble and not at all capable of your strength. And you are still so young, at least to me. You are the better person I wish I was.

We've never chatted at all, and I don't really know what to make of you, but you sure do talk fancy.

I think of you as a blackbird or a raven, because you're obscured by your stories as by a screen of dark feathers.

You're a pip, a firecracker, a red pepper. You should be a character in a movie, and you should play yourself. I want some of your you, a bit of that chi. I wouldn't mind taking you like a drug; one pinch and I'd be high for days. It was good to learn that you sleep, otherwise I'd never have guessed.

Something about you made me want to get to know you better, plus your name is cute and makes me think fondly of snow.

I don't know you well, but you seem down to earth and I think I'll orbit you for a while.

You're an element. You are flinty and occasionally give off sparks when rubbed. And you are part of my fannish earth.

I'm sorry we fell out of touch, but there's this thin filament that will always connect us even when we drift our separate ways into different fandoms. You're like dash after dash of pepper in the face of fandom, making it sneeze. You are a loon and my brain twin, except when you're radically different, which is always. I kinda love you, and I'm afraid to meet you, because I don't think I'm as cool as you think.

You're on my fringe, and I think I'm on yours, but it's nice to have you around.

I felt tongue-tied around you when we hung out together last year. I like that we share the same fannish space. You're a constant, and constants comfort me.

You are so freaking nice it awes me, but you've also got a snappy, snarky side that you turn on badfic, and I love that about you too. I want to hang with you. You're a cool kid.

I'm glad you say some of the things you do. You're quiet for long periods of time and then you get thoughtful and outspoken, without ever being a bitca. I think you're even brave at times, and you express yourself on waves of calm.

You were one of the first people I met in fandom, and you remain one of the dearest. Distance, different fandoms, long periods of mutual silence like Ents musing--it all means nothing because we're *that* solid. Just thinking about it makes me tear up. I've always had some envy issues with you, I have to admit, because you're sort of a goddess, even though you don't want to be. Luckily for all of us, you're also one of the most down-to-earth people I know in fandom, with a streak of wacky that doesn't get let out nearly enough--at least not that I see often these days. But I have the certainty that you're out there being wacky somewhere, and this is of the good.

How on earth do you stay so upbeat? Jesus God, you're a kicky dervish. You're one of the perpetual motion machines that keeps fandom going. Go, team you!

You do so many cool things, and there is a frequency on which we resonate; now and then you excite my particles in busy patterns. I wish you ease and happiness.

I'm glad you wrote me. I'm glad I wrote back. You have the elements of style, and I like having new lights in my life. Like you.

I fear I'm never going to remember your LJ name, damn it, and really need to link to your blog. You are blazingly intelligent, and also analytical in a way that I don't find off-putting, which is kind of rare. You're still a bit of a cipher in some ways, and I'm not even sure why, but the haze around you glitters with bright, shiny things.

I wondered about who you were for the longest time, and then I thought you were Francesca, which was wrong. And then someone told me who you were. And then I forgot. So I guess it wasn't that important! Er, anyway. Your writing cracks my shit up and you have one of the best pseuds ever.

I'm looking forward to getting to know you more. Our interests and friends mesh, and you add one more bright thread to the weave.

I'd hoped to get to know you better these past several months, but I think I'm not as good as establishing rapport as I used to be. Still, you're cool and I like the idea that you're sort of in my pack. If I have a pack, which is maybe stretching it.

We hang out in the same clubs, and you're a feisty little minx from what I can tell. For no good reason your name makes me think of the color yellow, a bright yellow like a banana.

You were different in person than I expected, and I sometimes wonder if we clicked as you'd hoped. You're a fuzzy bit of sunshine in my online life, like a loop of soft, familiar yarn wrapped around my finger.

I don't express my appreciation often enough for the skippy, friendly energy you lend to lists I'm on. I think you spread yourself all over things fannish like inexhaustible peanut butter. Not in a bad way. And, um, that also isn't meant to be obscene.

You drift away a lot, like a skiff on its own current, and I respect that. I'm pleased when I hear from you though, and I think I didn't answer your last e-mail, which sucks.

Your name is like something skimming across a meadow. You are always somewhere in my landscape. Keep writing.

When I met you, you didn't seem at all like your name, so I'm having to change my definition. Your online persona is crisp and fine, like ink on white paper. In real life, you are more human. That's kind of a no-brainer, but so am I sometimes.

I was rude to you once out of anxiety, not long after we first met online, and I still think about it, but you forgave me and still wanted to hang with me. I hope you like me. Your writing is like the light in a Hopper painting, falling across a long diner counter, a windowed interior bright against the dark.

You are a stunningly beautiful freak and when I first met you in person, you talked so fast and with so much articulation that I laughed out loud in amazement. You kind of overwhelmed me, actually, and then after we met we began turning up on the same lists, and this made me very happy.

You are a bright, shiny thing, a cherry blow-pop, a sunny song, a breath of fresh air, a minty fresh girl. You are cute as a button.

Neurotic bitch, I'd like to drink with you.

I think I scared the living daylights out of you, because I couldn't stop marveling at your cuteness when we met. I felt as if I'd become an aunt. I wanted to take one of your cheeks in my hand (no, not like that, criminey), in one big squeezy pinch, and show you off to everyone. "Look at this face!"

You're a friend of a friend, and that's cool. Your name conjures up impressions of both sharp angles and of tiny, furry mammals. Just for that, I think you'd be darn fun to hang with.

You are the single most cuddly person I know and quite possibly the nicest, and I can't stop playing with your hair whenever I'm with you. It's better than sex. You seem to find me interesting, and I wish I was as cool as you make me feel. I am a bad person because I don't reach out to others in times of need, but I was sad to hear of recent events in your life and hope you are well. I completely and totally glom you.

You are one adorable fangirl, and you're just lucky I don't have your likeness made into a stuffed animal adorning my bed.

You are...there are not enough words for you. Words are inadequate, but they skip and whirl for you, like leaves scraping a dance in the wind. You made me a risotto that remains unsurpassed, you gave me your bed and took the couch. And I let you! The nerve of me. Your wide smile delights me. The intensity of our first rapport has eased with time, and I've watched you make a home in fandom, finding friends wherever you go--because anyone with half a brain crushes on you madly, woman. I sometimes wish I was better at the daily upkeep of friendship, and yet I feel okay about where we both are. You are like a handful of undying embers for me. I don't need to hog the fire all the time, and it makes me happy to see others clustering around your warmth.

Damn these LJ names. Who the hell *are* you? I knew and then forgot. You're just playing with me, aren't you.

I don't know why I'm so nervous around you at times. I think it's because we have very different tastes and opinions, and you seem so firm and confident about yours. I had no idea what you thought of me, really, and then one day you affirmed me totally out of the blue, and I felt enormous relief.

We've just met, but you seem very nice. Let's hang around each other and see what happens.

Your words are lucid, and is every image and emotion they conjure. Your stories are like broth. Sustaining.

You are like a monument, like something planted in the sands of Egypt. You define and redefine fandom. Things break themselves against you.

I think you're the color green, a rich oxidizing green, vaguely metallic. The paintbox would be insufficient for sunsets without you.

I trust you instinctively, though I don't know you well. You're just one of those people easy to like.

Your vids rock, and the last one of yours I saw made me cry in a good way. We've brushed shoulders at cons and chatted in irc, but you remain interestingly undefined.

It once seemed like we'd be closer, but now we kind of hang parallel to one another, not touching, but occasionally talking with a certain closeness. I can be okay with that, and maybe someday the wind will knock us together, in the way wind does.

We were sort of like passing ships, me leaving a fandom as you entered it. You seem very cool, and you give off a vibe of genuine niceness which is part of what makes me want to keep reading your thoughts.

We share a romantic passion--no, not for each other, for the boys. It's fun to like the same boys. Fandom is the only place that really works, come to think of it.

You're a bit intimidating, like a sharp little cat. Utterly chic and eloquent, and always a bit where I'm not. Cool. Someday maybe I'll get to know you better.

We should fit together like jigsaw puzzle pieces, I feel, but our edges don't quite jibe. I think we're like sisters, except in that we're totally not--but, okay, you're Buffy, I'm Dawn. I like your brain and want to be your friend.

Your LJ name amuses me and I'm beginning to bond with your icon. You say funny things on subjects we have in common, and I hope things look up for you.

You're the best friend I have in the world, and if that ever changed it would probably break my heart. You are the only rock in the ocean of my life. Or at least my social life, because the other just sounds so pathetic. I actually feel kind of married to you now that I think about it--except, you know, I expect your S.O. would have something to say about that. You have that thing, you know, what's it called--that *thing*--oh yeah, a good heart. A big, wide heart. I hope I never disappoint you. I hope I never bore you.

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