Blogflog: The Little Miss Snowflake pageant continues!

[pith]

Blog link: http://blog.laurellkhamilton.org/2008/01/if-only-it-had-worked.html
LKH in bold; I'm plain.



I'm glossing over all the therapy talk, because . . . well, it's not really that interesting. LKH just draws it out like someone who wants to tell a cool story at a party but doesn't really have much of a story, so they pad it with detail—that way, by the time they're done, you're so happy they're done that you may actually think what they said was important/funny/interesting.

I was somewhat surprised, though, to see LKH distinguish "artists" from "writers". A lot of writers, of both the sane and wanky variety, insist that writing is an art, and at a lot of universities and colleges, writing is in the "fine arts" category, along with drama, painting, etc.

But then again, she's all about The Science, so she probably doesn't want to give up her membership to the Soft Sciences by claiming she's an artist. She has principles, you know. The Science helps make her stories real.

My subconscious and I are apparently too tight to sepearate. That means that the veil that most people have between their waking mind and their subconscious isn't really there for me. I didn't realize that other people did it differently.

I think she's starting to write lyrics for the song portion of her Little Miss Snowflake routine. (Or would that be Little Ms. Snowflake, since she's Grand Liberated Woman? Er, Womyn. Whatever.)

Knowing I was a writer, why didn't the therepaist warn me? Because it hadn't happened with every writer she'd worked with, only a few. Apparently, even among other writers I'm the odd duck. Why doesn't that surprise?

Oh, yes, Laurell, of course. It's the therapist's fault. (Unless the therapist didn't consider you a real writer and simply wanted to fuck with your head, in which case... bring on the Harley Quinn!) Never mind the fact that most people, when undergoing a treatment of some kind, will actually look into it and learn the pros and cons, the side effects, etc. It's fodder for her Miss Little Snowflake resume. File under "Unique Powers".

Honestly, there are how many billion people on this planet? Of course there's not going to be a one-cure-fits-all for anything. Then again, what do I know? I'm just a measly human. Which is probably better than being a unique snowflake, as snowflakes have a tendency to be eaten, trampled, driven over, or pissed on by passing dogs. (And the occasional human.)

Comments

[dreamstrifer.livejournal.com]

That could backfire horribly, considering we tend to integrate sensory information from around us into our dreams.

Completely off topic, but this reminded me of a forum I was in where I was relating a really bizarre dream that involved a black cloaked figur eon a horse riding down a waterfall after telling me some nonesense about "If you're not there at 6, jump down after me, and we'll eat chalupas" or something. A girl on the forum insisted it was all this deep darkity dark recesses of my soul and I was hiding these feelings.

I kind of laughed at her and said she might have had a point, but that wasn't really the case with this particular dream. She got offended and asked how I knew she was wrong. I told her it was because I ate Taco Bell and watched the Fellowship of the Ring before bed. Ah, I have weird dreams. :-)

[notadoor.livejournal.com]

Hee, generally the darkity dark recesses of your soul dreams are the ones you don't remember because they're too threatening to be allowed into your conscious memory. The most useful dreams to psychoanalyze are the ones where you can only remember part of it, and there are blanks in between sections where you're not quite sure WHAT happened, but you know something did.

But yeah, to mangle Gandhi, "I like your Freud; I do not like your Freudians."

[dreamstrifer.livejournal.com]

I did have ONE dream I can remember that involved me being broken up over my nephew's death over a year later (I was going to a therapist at the time and she helped me realize that). Other than that... all my dreams are either completely random or have to do with things i was doing that day or before bed.

[manekikoneko.livejournal.com]

Continuing off topic, I once dreamed I was flying in a helicopter over South America with the pope, to go to a UN conference; when I woke up my radio was on and playing NPR. XD

[estllechauvelin.livejournal.com]

I can't set my alarm clock to go off with the radio, because instead of waking me up, my dreams suddenly acquire a soundtrack.

[silent-sybil.livejournal.com]

I've had several where in the dream, an alarm starts going off somewhere in the building, and I run around for a while trying to turn it off and unplugging random dream-alarm clocks, to no avail, before I wake up. :P

[recrudescence.livejournal.com]

*laughs* I...don't know if I can imagine a more terrifying dream.

[were-lemur.livejournal.com]

I once had a dream about being chased by a lawnmower. I woke up and found that one of the cats (not the one in the icon, but a different one with an unusually loud purr) had flopped down on me with his purr motor right over my ear. :p

[dreamstrifer.livejournal.com]

My favorite was when a teacher of mine in high school was arrested for sexual contact with a student and Arnold Schwarzenegger was running for office. I had dreams that I was running from Ahhh-nold and did a back flip over him, and sent a roundhouse kick to the face to the teacher, and when I landed I was in the jungle. I woke up and was like "What the hell's ass kind of dream was that?!"

[lovefromgirl.livejournal.com]

Aw, man, I know what that feels like -- I dozed off during the S.C. primary coverage last night and somehow ended up dreaming about the Mafia. Turns out my dad changed the channel in the middle of my nap...

...to The Godfather.

[dreamstrifer.livejournal.com]

I tend to have a LOT of dreams influenced by movies. So I sympathize!