Non-engagement
Mar. 11th, 2012 01:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
narcasseDespite the fact that I’m actually meant to be doing something else, writing something else, figuring something else out, at last it’s finally occurred to me, in a sensible, linear, fashion why I don’t really engage with fandom. And it’s not just because the sight of a certain celebrity’s face most recently made me declare that I wanted to get a scalpel and my old physiology textbook and figure out what was wrong with his face. Though it’s hard to say if following that up with the statement that I didn’t mean it like that, what with my not being like that since I’m a nice boy, really, will have helped matters.
Unintentional hilarity and flashbacks to polydactyly slides aside, it occurs to me that the problem, my problem with fandom, is that it’s about the emotional investment. Fandom is all about the ups and downs, the emotional rollercoaster that stories create. Be they the product of the canon itself or the fanfiction or the discussions that grow up around them. The point of fandom is to take that emotional journey together. Everyone mourns or celebrates or commiserates together. There’s a real sense of community, of gathered emotion and shared experience. It’s about that outpouring of emotion and the ties that bind across a shared feeling. It’s probably like climbing Everest together or circumnavigating the globe or any of those situations where shared experience and heightened emotion bond everyone involved together. This is, of course, the epistemic community on the move. Not that fandom is a monolith. Within the larger communities that grow up around series, there are always going to be fractions, but still, each segment shares a certain feeling. And feeling, that outpouring, sharing and revelling in emotional response is the basis that fandom is founded upon.
Thus, therein lies my problem. Strong emotion exhausts me, and unless we’re talking about the adrenal spike of rage where my hands are trembling with fury or the, thankfully infrequent, bouts of utter despair were the only reason I’m still alive is because I can’t even summon up the gumption to figure out a way to off myself, I can very much do without it. I am fond of things or pleased or reasonably indulgent but there’s a certain moderation that I hold to. I would describe myself as content rather than happy or sad for the vast majority of the time. I much prefer to maintain a certain level of detachment when it comes to the matter of emotion, because either extreme does me harm rather than anything else. It’s entirely possible that this is some sort of adrenal issue or a psychological one or any other number of things, but regardless of the cause, extremes of emotion actually damage my equilibrium.
The entire matter is a simple mismatch, a square plug hovering dangerously to a round hole. Fandom is a wonderful outlet for the rollercoaster of emotion that attachment can invoke. It’s a space to share those feelings with other likeminded individuals. But, in my case at least, those feelings never quite trigger, thus I actually have nothing to contribute to the greater whole. I’m much more secure in my cynicism and apathetic misanthropy because it allows me to engage in the technical overview of matters. There are no extremes of emotion or confounding feelings to muddle my logic when I’m merely coolly interested or disinterested in anything. In fact, every time I have engaged in some extreme of emotion it’s ended badly so there’s a lesson in that. Emotional fluctuations, beyond the accepted parameters, are always a disaster for me and, as such, I do what I can to maintain a sensible range within which I can function.
All of which is to say that I’ve finally figured out why engagement in fandom doesn’t actually interest me. That emotional sharing and outpouring serves a purpose but not one that I am seeking or could even begin to contribute to. I am interested in the pieces of the puzzle, the framework and the logical conclusion of the data. Form and function interest me far more than how I feel about anything. How does it work? Is it necessary? Is it, above all else, efficient? These are the questions that I’m continually asking, of the world around me, and of myself. Whatever I don’t need, be it theoretical game framework, information or behavioural patterns, can be dumped with impunity. My purpose is to refine the details, to improve my efficiency. Everything else is trivia.
Unintentional hilarity and flashbacks to polydactyly slides aside, it occurs to me that the problem, my problem with fandom, is that it’s about the emotional investment. Fandom is all about the ups and downs, the emotional rollercoaster that stories create. Be they the product of the canon itself or the fanfiction or the discussions that grow up around them. The point of fandom is to take that emotional journey together. Everyone mourns or celebrates or commiserates together. There’s a real sense of community, of gathered emotion and shared experience. It’s about that outpouring of emotion and the ties that bind across a shared feeling. It’s probably like climbing Everest together or circumnavigating the globe or any of those situations where shared experience and heightened emotion bond everyone involved together. This is, of course, the epistemic community on the move. Not that fandom is a monolith. Within the larger communities that grow up around series, there are always going to be fractions, but still, each segment shares a certain feeling. And feeling, that outpouring, sharing and revelling in emotional response is the basis that fandom is founded upon.
Thus, therein lies my problem. Strong emotion exhausts me, and unless we’re talking about the adrenal spike of rage where my hands are trembling with fury or the, thankfully infrequent, bouts of utter despair were the only reason I’m still alive is because I can’t even summon up the gumption to figure out a way to off myself, I can very much do without it. I am fond of things or pleased or reasonably indulgent but there’s a certain moderation that I hold to. I would describe myself as content rather than happy or sad for the vast majority of the time. I much prefer to maintain a certain level of detachment when it comes to the matter of emotion, because either extreme does me harm rather than anything else. It’s entirely possible that this is some sort of adrenal issue or a psychological one or any other number of things, but regardless of the cause, extremes of emotion actually damage my equilibrium.
The entire matter is a simple mismatch, a square plug hovering dangerously to a round hole. Fandom is a wonderful outlet for the rollercoaster of emotion that attachment can invoke. It’s a space to share those feelings with other likeminded individuals. But, in my case at least, those feelings never quite trigger, thus I actually have nothing to contribute to the greater whole. I’m much more secure in my cynicism and apathetic misanthropy because it allows me to engage in the technical overview of matters. There are no extremes of emotion or confounding feelings to muddle my logic when I’m merely coolly interested or disinterested in anything. In fact, every time I have engaged in some extreme of emotion it’s ended badly so there’s a lesson in that. Emotional fluctuations, beyond the accepted parameters, are always a disaster for me and, as such, I do what I can to maintain a sensible range within which I can function.
All of which is to say that I’ve finally figured out why engagement in fandom doesn’t actually interest me. That emotional sharing and outpouring serves a purpose but not one that I am seeking or could even begin to contribute to. I am interested in the pieces of the puzzle, the framework and the logical conclusion of the data. Form and function interest me far more than how I feel about anything. How does it work? Is it necessary? Is it, above all else, efficient? These are the questions that I’m continually asking, of the world around me, and of myself. Whatever I don’t need, be it theoretical game framework, information or behavioural patterns, can be dumped with impunity. My purpose is to refine the details, to improve my efficiency. Everything else is trivia.
