Life as an Extreme Sport

Just like home…

I haven’t posted much in the last few days because I’ve been in Victoria, British Columbia, and largely not near my computer. I’m most certainly not paying any attention to the news or the majority of my normal feeds. In fact, the only reason I’m writing this right now is because I woke up from falling asleep reading/with the light on to turn the light off, and am now having a hard time falling back asleep because there’s someone screaming threats to someone else outside.

Just like home.

So, I’m laying here in bed, the open window letting the sea-scented breeze in (and it’s cold and so brisk and wonderful on all my skin save my right hand, which I keep shoving under the quilt), the tasteful nudes that are hung on the wall barely visible ghosts in the light of the laptop screen, and I’m thinking about the internet.

Specifically, I’m thinking about the accesibility created by the internet. Things like handing in homework online, not so new or interesting to me – I’ve been doing that for, Buddha help me, 18 years. I understand it’s a novel idea for some, but it’s something I grew up with.

What I didn’t grow up with was everyone being on the internet. And I don’t mean just your teachers and parents and friends and cousins and neighborhood grocer. I mean everyone. I mean, find your favourite celebrities online and read their blog and have contact, everyone.

If you’re like me, 99% of these blogs/websites/etc that I find, I find by accident. I have a sort of weird relationship with the idea of fame – namely, I don’t much care about it. If Tom Cruise were to wake me up in the morning, my only reaction would be one of “wtf is Tom Cruise doing in here waking me up?” I’ve met enough celebs at this point in my life that I can be pretty certain of my response.

But, if that person waking me up in the morning were switched to, say, Neil Gaiman or someone from Whose Line, or Mariska Hargity or so on and forth, I’d turn into a stuttering idiot. (I know – I routinely play the stuttering idiot game when I go to Gaiman signings.) What’s the difference? A pretty simple, and ultimately, silly thing. They’re people I admire and respect.

This came up on another community I read, where I clarified that I probably wouldn’t be freeze framing a television show where, with said technology, you can apparently catch one of the characters with his “delicate bits dangling”. The link to said trivia was provided based on my commenting on a photo of the actor’s bare chest… The thing is, the reason I admire and respect and am all fannish about the actor is that I admire his wit, think he’s incredibly smart, and I would love to sit down and just have a conversation about whatever came up (well, assuming I wasn’t stuttering and trying to remember what vowels sound like). I can’t for the life of me think of someone I “follow” (ie am a squealing fangirl about) because they’re eye candy and no more.

I guess the truth of the matter is, any lust I have is for mental ability, not the body proper.

Anyhow, this all comes up because I was poking around on MySpace earlier, having gotten there through a couple of links and clicks, and suddenly I was looking at Drew Carey’s MySpace account. A few more pokes, and I’m seeing a good number of the improv comics I love and their profiles (and genuinely being them, confirmed or directly linked to by their website and so forth – I do my homework, thanks).

And this is weird to me. This open accessibility of people I genuinely admire and respect and so forth. In many cases, the accessibility is a 1/1 sort of thing, and… well, it’s weird. The only reason I know of them is their celeb status, but I could care less about the status, because they seem like people I would like even if I had just met them at the pub.

I’m tired and drifting, my thoughts scattering on the breeze like so many butterflies… I suppose my entire point is the smallness of the world made accessible by a few wires, and how it still, 18 years later, still inspires within me, awe.