quite a lot of trouble for such a pretty little girl

(Okay, so I posted a shorter version of this on tumblr and was telling ella_bane I was surprised about how much it was getting re-blogged, and she was like "oh, put it on LJ!" And I was like "really?" And she was like "YES AND IF YOU DON'T I WILL DO MEAN THINGS TO YOU" and then made threatening motions so fine, here is the expanded LJ version of a letter I would like to send to Julian Murphy, or scream at him until I broke his brain. Alas, alack.)


Dear Julian Murphy,

So you have just given an interview looking back on Season 3 of Merlin, and in it, you are a giant flaming bag of douche. You've actually made me angry. Are you aware of how hard it is to make really and truly angry? Like, not just kind of irritated? Because when you say that "character growth" for female characters only happens if they get a romantic interest or turn evil, and that despite the actress' repeated pleas to play stronger roles, you have ignored them, citing that it's not "period appropriate" when you have never given two flying fucks about even the most rudimentary historical accuracy before, congrats! You've done it. You are officially a jackass.

And don't even get me started on your dismissal of Merlin/Arthur fans. You do realize that they make up a giant portion of your fanbase, and are a disproportionately large percentage the ones that make you money by buying your merchandise and going to your events? But apparently, you think it's a good idea to do just that. In an interview where you also compare the Merlin/Arthur relationship to both Butch/Sundance and Lois/Clark. Because there's nothing romantic about those relationships! And you're right, it's okay to have a prominent plot point in your "family show" be genocide in which you explicitly discuss the drowning of children, but making the main characters gay would be taking it a step too far and furthermore, it would be just so upsetting! Thank you for mansplaining it to me! I guess my tiny lady brain was all confused since I'm not in a relationship or plotting evil.

You know, for a long time, I was very defensive of you, simply because that's who I am. I am an easy forgiver. I am a benefit-of-the-doubt-er. So when there were all these conspiracy theories about the writers being purposefully sexist and homophobic I was like "... really?" Honestly, I did not believe that was possible in this day and age. Surely there could not be a secret cabal of menfolk sitting in a room willfully being that offensive. And I can forgive ignorance. I might not be happy about it, but if you don't know to examine your actions from a certain point of view, you don't know. Whats the point in getting mad over that? How are you supposed to do something you didn't know you were supposed to do? But you made it explicit in this interview that you know. You know exactly what you're doing. And furthermore, you are doing it on purpose because you think it is the right thing to do. And that is inexcusable. That is completely unforgivable.

If you were some sort of transcendent visionary, maybe you could get off on belittling your fans for ~not understanding you creative vision~. But you know what? You're not. You're not even good. If you think the fans watch for the "quality writing" on Merlin, you are insanely deluded. We watch in spite of that. We watch, for the most part, because it's pretty, and because the cast is really, really, really good. Like, way too good for you. Honestly, if you hadn't cast the people you cast, your show would have gone up like the Hindenburg. For fuck's sake, I can write better than you, and I'm not paid to do this shit. You are. And more than ever, I'm convinced that anything that goes right on this show is somehow a happy coincidence. Either that, or it is due to the dedicated effort of a small rebel force, and you are the Death Star, and I am really hoping one of these days they figure out how to jam up your goddamned trash compactor.

There's this delusion many writers seem to have, and it shows up especially in showrunners, that a show belongs to them, or that they understand their show better than anyone because they wrote it. I fucking hate that attitude. That attitude is my number one pet peeve not only in television, but on the top ten of "shit that pisses me off more than anything else, of all time". The first thing any person who is creative learns is that their work stops being theirs the second it is shared. The entire point of creative work is the way it can be re-interpreted and the meaning of it changes for every new fresh set of eyes that looks at it. To say yours is the "better" or "right" version is abso-fucking-loutely ludicrous, and beyond that, it's arrogant. It's like saying that you know ultimate philosophical answers to life's great questions and other people don't. You should never, ever, ever belittle an audience interpretation of your creative work. You may dislike it. Hell, you may hate it. It may hurt you because that work is your baby. I know that feeling. But like all babies, your work has grown up and left you. You can't do anything about it. Deal with it. And more than that, realize that if there's a mass consensus on your work, it is not because you are right in the face of a million people who are wrong, or that there is something fundamentally wrong with those people. It's that you you didn't see something and they did. That should be the whole reason you share your creativity in the first place. And if you can't deal with that, there's a simple solution - don't share. Get over yourself. End of story.

So, I guess the upshot of this little note is this; fuck you. Hard. Wait, let me make this clearer.



No. Just... no.

Sincerely,
Me, potentially co-signed by 90% of Merlin fandom, or at least over 25 people on Tumblr.

My First-World Reasons I am Miserable:
Uno! Impeding period. Always makes me super depressed/anxious. This month, I got to have an utterly unexplained panic attack over nothing on Sunday morning that lasted for three hours. That was three hours of uncontrollable shaking, crying, nausea, and mind-numbing terror for no reason. THREE. HOURS. Do you have any idea how INSANELY uncomfortable that is and how shaken that leaves you? IT FEELS TERRIBLE. It's like your soul vomiting. Only more painful.

Dos! EVERYONE, STOP DYING. I could emotionally handle the gay teen suicides (sort of). But I cannot handle them and then Tim Gunn making an It Gets Better video where he talks about how he tried to kill himself (TIM GUNN, MY HEART IS DELICATE AND FRAGILE AND YOU ARE MY FAVORITE), and then JGL's brother died, which I know shouldn't bother me but really, really does on two levels. The first being that whenever he'd make these tweets or tumblr posts about his brother it reminded me so strongly about how I feel about my older sister, and then my crazy over-empathy parts get involved and I start thinking about what would happen if one of my siblings died, and he was thirty-six and totally healthy! NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO DIE AT THIRTY-SIX UNLESS THEY HAVE AN EXTREMELY GOOD REASON, LIKE BEING IN AN AVALANCHE, OKAY. THAT'S ONE OF MY RULES OF LIFE THAT KEEPS ME FROM TURNING INTO A PARANOID NEUROTIC MESS. (Also I feel really sad for JGL an his family and everyone, except I don't really know them or anything about the situation so it's kind of a secondary "oh, that's such a shame".)

Also, the couple whose cats I was going to watch while they went to Turkey cancelled their Turkey trip because it looks like his brother might bite it. Right before his daughter's wedding. And his brother is my parents' age. Seriously, everyone, less with the death! I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS.

Tres! Second week in a row of gray and rain. Ugh ugh ugh ugh.

Quatro! I went to Target to try to replace my much beloved flats and they had these great shoes almost exactly like my old ones, but the 6.5s were too small and the 7s were too big. I've tried everywhere else - the local shoe store, DSW, Zappos... AND I HATE SHOPPING, YOU GUYS. I really, really fucking need new shoes. Why can't I just find new freaking shoes? And don't even get me started on my sneaker woes. All of my shoes are legit falling apart at the seams. Like that's not a turn of phrase, they are falling apart at the seams.

On top of no luck with shoes at Target, I also had no luck with finding bags (also falling apart), any clothes (red zone situation - all my clothing fits into one dark and one light wash easily, and the light wash isn't even full, and both of those are fifty percent pajamas), or the laundry detergent my mother asked me to pick up. Though I did manage to get myself eyeshadow because my old eyeshadow has been disintegrating everywhere. Woo...hoo. Clearly, a priority.

This trip to Target took up the part of the day where I was supposed to take the dog for a walk, too, and by time I got home I was overtired, cramping, cranky, freezing cold, and so instead I passed out on my couch for two hours. And then I felt guilty the rest of the night for going out when clearly I should have been staying home taking care of my baby. (For the record, I should not have, I just feel an irrational sense of guilt anyway, and I'm hormonal/Jewish, so it was semi-crippling. My dog forgave me within thirty seconds of scratching under her chin.)

Cinqo! This week's episode of Glee was so depressing I can't even talk about it without legit feeling queasy. Usually, Glee is my special happy fun time full of campy music and devoid of logic or emotion. Robin's boyfriend comes over, Ella's over, Robin's home, we all curl up on the couch and coo at Finn and Artie because they are too precious to exist and where were those boys in high school when we were there? It's good times. TONIGHT WAS NOT GOOD TIMES, GLEE. IT WAS TAKE MY TERRIFYING WORST FEARS ABOUT PARENTS DROPPING NEARLY-DEAD AND MANIPULATING MY EMOTIONS FOR AN HOUR. AN HOUR! EVEN FINN BEING ADORABLE ABOUT FINDING JESUS ON HIS GRILLED CHEESE DIDN'T MAKE ME FEEL BETTER.

THAT MEANS I FELT PRETTY DAMN SHITTY ABOUT THE WHOLE THING, FYI.

Sies! Ever since my Fun Marathon of Terror, my stomach has been misbehaving terribly. The latest thing it has decided I cannot eat without insane nausea/indigestion? Apples. And sister and her boyfriend just went apple picking! My mother just made applesauce and apple tart! Apples are everywhere! It's fucking October in fucking New England! And I love apples!

Stomach, you and I are not on good terms right now.


YOUR JOB: Do not hug me! Do not pet my hair! Give me fun stuff! Happy stuff! Rec me fics of adorable boys in love! Youtube videos! Find adorable fuzzy things from CuteOverload backlogs! Write me comment fics!

Also if one or two of you could come over and do my laundry/the rest of my reading for class tomorrow/make it so I don't have to go to class tomorrow, I'd really like that.