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They build it up just to burn it back down
Hello, Dreamwidth.
Technically I have been here since 2013, but then LJ was home. It is no longer. I have not yet deleted my livejournal of the last thirteen years, but I expect to post to Dreamwidth only from now on. (I'll have to reword my Patreon.) It's a little disorienting. I don't usually spend so time on this side. Everything looks familiar, but not quite right. I'll have to get this journal looking more like itself. At the moment I just seem to feel very sad. I have never lost an online community before—much less one with as much emotional history as LJ—and it really does feel like a death or an exile. So much of my coming back to life was on LJ, my relationships with the people who are now my husband and my lover. It was the first place I was known as Sovay. I expected to stick with it until they turned out the lights, but instead somebody stole the lightbulbs and asked me to sign a confession I couldn't read to get them back. It might have been collateral damage to strong-arming someone else, but it was damage and done. I might be grieving that a while.
But in the meantime I'm here. So who's here with me? Sound off.
Technically I have been here since 2013, but then LJ was home. It is no longer. I have not yet deleted my livejournal of the last thirteen years, but I expect to post to Dreamwidth only from now on. (I'll have to reword my Patreon.) It's a little disorienting. I don't usually spend so time on this side. Everything looks familiar, but not quite right. I'll have to get this journal looking more like itself. At the moment I just seem to feel very sad. I have never lost an online community before—much less one with as much emotional history as LJ—and it really does feel like a death or an exile. So much of my coming back to life was on LJ, my relationships with the people who are now my husband and my lover. It was the first place I was known as Sovay. I expected to stick with it until they turned out the lights, but instead somebody stole the lightbulbs and asked me to sign a confession I couldn't read to get them back. It might have been collateral damage to strong-arming someone else, but it was damage and done. I might be grieving that a while.
But in the meantime I'm here. So who's here with me? Sound off.
no subject
I hope at least there's some kind of archive: all those delicate cross-connections and references and tips of the hat. People were talking. I don't want it all to become a pile of link rot. I recognize this is a general problem with the internet, but an entire community starting to fold up is something that should be noted in more than passing.
(But of course, people want to delete their posts exactly to keep their information off the internet and out of archive where it might be used against them, so. We fall back on memory again.)