Surveyor Survivor Severity

In which our Hero starts answering some of the non-technical questions in the queue of what he was asked

So I think I can break up the questions I was asked into two sets. I’ll start with the survey sets because they’re a little older but they fit with the question.

1.1. Why come here [to OD] at all

I don’t know. A part of it is that you are my people, Gentle Reader, as I was reflecting today in an email. You are in very important and intimate ways a branch of my family, and I come here for comfort and succor and boon companionship. I come to tell stories and read stories, against the flicker of a monitor, the way people have come together since we first started burning down neighboring villages.

That’s not a small part. But another part, if I am honest, has nothing to do with the responses, nothing to do with being heard. Because entries grow in my head when I just sit. I am compelled to write here, because it draws order from the chaos. I’m compelled to write here because it refines my thinking. And I’m compelled to write here because it’s what I do. I just have to write. Each day calls to me to write. Each day I’m silence weighs on me like a failure. It’s an addiction.

I never used to journal. I never imagined I would be someone who did. I never knew what it was like to revisit old selves amidst old moments. But I’m so glad I found this place. I’m so grateful for it.

1.2 What year(s) in OD was your happiest

It will sound like a weak answer, it will sound fake given the navel-gazing nature of a lot of my recent entries but… now. I’m really good. My life is really good, by any sane standard.

But if I look at things from the point of nostalgia, I think what I miss is that time when I was a roving consultant, striding continents and jobs. I was living a remarkable life, free of the stains and wear and detritus that collect on roots when you allow them to grow. I like not living out of a suitcase, even if I’m good at it. I like coming *home.*

I just miss the magic of that. As tiring, as stressful as it is, I miss the ruffling breeze of life as I rocketed through it. Just that I’m much pickier about where I’m rocketing.

1.3 Who are your most trusted favourites

I don’t know how to answer that. A short list ignores how much I owe so many people. A long list makes me seem gullible. But most of all, I am utterly terrified that any list of important people would have me forget to mention someone who’s absence from the list would upset me more than them anyway.

1.4 What makes them special

What makes my favourites special is that they are people who are story tellers. The thing that draws me to the people I follow here, in general, is their words, and beyond that, their eyes. I mean, I’ll read for good words alone, but you, Gentle Reader, you bring more than just your words, you bring vision. You give me insight into your life and your heart. I peek into your job, and I learn how you spilled your coffee or said a good bye, but I also learn about your sense of justice, or your warmth, or your honour, or just your doggone sense of humour.

My favourites are special because they make me love them, at least a little, and frequently a lot. They inspire me.

Now as for the “trusted” core… I don’t know how to distinguish them, except that they speak honest truth to me. I don’t know how to express my gratitude for the life-saving care that I’ve received from some of the people here, who have taken the time to hold my hand when my heart was heavy, who have made me remember that there is value in the pieces that are left even after I am shattered. Or who just stop me every once in a while and make me check if I’m okay.

In some ways, I am so very bad at people. I’m not a person to go out and drown my sorrows in beer, I don’t have a gaggle of regular friends I hang out with. I’ve got a lot of people who I love dearly, and who I do draw comfort and strength from, but to some extent, I am very poor at sharing. And some people are able to work with that, and make spaces where I can share, and make comfort where I can lean.

So while I can look back at some devastatingly awful parts of my life, some of it documented here, I can also look back and say that yeah they sucked, but I have never dealt with them alone. Never. I’ve never been left to face them alone.

And they are the people who will speak truth to me even when they know I may not want to hear it. I mean, it’s easy for people to speak brutal truths. It’s hard to speak brutal truths without brutality.

1.5 Worst Moments in OD

My worst moment in all of OD is not one of those times I was making a stupid mistake. A long time ago, I had an ill-chosen relationship end worse. It is a situation that I will carry regrets for the rest of my days. But worse than that was to see my grief turned to theatre when the forums first started and someone pointed out my situation on a thread about… gosh, what was it exactly. I don’t remember, but something to the effect of biggest trainwreck/drama and I saw red. I was so angry that people would take my deep pain and catalog it like that, make it into a show.

In the end, I just took it as more penance for my mistakes.

But it was a low, low moment.

1.6 You frown at:

Assuming this is meant to be an OD context, I frown at train-wreck diaries and bad writing. I find inarticulate diaries to be really painful, and when one of those non-writers makes a really good point that gets them to a reader’s choice, or when I accidentally hit random, it’s a lot like scraping my eyes down a cheese-grater.

But more than that I have a deep aversion to train-wreck diaries. I have a very specific definition of what that is, and to take a shot at articulating it, it’s the fact of making e repetitive self-destructive or theatrical choices over taking the steps to resolve a situation. We all make mistakes, and we frequently make the same ones. But some folks seem to go out of their way to learn from those mistakes. I realize that train wreck diaries are compelling for a reason, but at the same time, I feel a little like they’re fueled by the spectators, just a little. We can’t force someone to be rational, but we can avoid feeding the mess.

1.7 You smile at:

I smile at people being good at things. I smile at insights into people. I smile at how you love your children or your pets. I smile at serious people willing to be silly.

And baby pictures. 🙂

1.8 Biggest regrets in OD

This is going to be that same situation that later became a worst moment in echo. And I’m going to be unspecific because if you don’t know, then I’m quite content to leave that time behind me. But I basically got into a relationship for reasons that I’m ashamed of and it blew up in my face as I should have expected it to, but I decided to just not think about it. I just turned off every reasoning mechanism I had. It’s such a complete and utter failure even before it turned into a shitstorm.

1.9 Hopes for 2013 diary

Have I had this survey lying around that long? Oh boy.

My hopes for 2013 are to finish the process of getting out from under my past disorganization. I know that’snot a specifically diary thing, except that its what I’d like my diary to be talking about. I’d like to get back to writing more regularly, I miss the discipline of it, and I miss the intellectual capacity to just dump out a story.

1.10 Your state of mind as you are writing this.

I’m kind of sad. It’s frustrating to think back to those bad times, it’s frustrating to see such a huge gap in myself, such a profound failure. It’s something that I choose to leave behind, to allow to fade to memory, but it’s the internet, and this is my diary, and it’s here, it’s written down, such as it is. This is stirring the corpses.

On the other hand, I’ve never consciously tallied up the column that my favourites live in till now. So on the whole I’m feeling very rich.

I think we’ll call this an entry.