Allegation one: This American Life is my fandom.
The defendant admits the allegations in section one. It seems like every other week has been relevant-to-my-interests awesome lately (with differently-awesome in between). In particular, the segment on Steve Poizner's book about teaching in a high school in San Jose was fantastic for getting me thinking about all the ways I could've come at my high school DI teams from a completely different angle. Given my background (and, honestly, my dayglo paleness), they were probably expecting White Privileged Girl Comes in to Frightening Inner-City School to Prove She's got a Heart of Gold, which explains the very different reactions I got between the beginning and end. Between me cementing my idea that King College Prep is pretty much not frightening, despite the efforts of the kids who heckled me occasionally when I came in to the school and them (hopefully) figuring out that I was there for fun and not to polish my resume by getting my feet a bit dirty, there was a lot of opportunity for misinterpretation. I'm very glad I came at it from enough of a middling background not to be frightened by the lack of Ferrari dealerships and bakeries (au contraire, I generally ended up going 'Holy crap Kenwood is bigger than I thought and frak man what is with all these mansions? And they're only a couple of blocks from these frightening empty lots and derelict buildings! Also, I notice that no one is killing me right now, cool'). But that's the amazing thing--I get the impression that Mount Pleasant was a lot like King. Bordered by a pretty affluent area, but still a public school firmly on the middle ground, even if the drop-off between affluent and inner-city was a lot closer together, and a lot more pronounced--there's not much in Chicago that is white picket fences. I could see someone bringing the same sort of preconceptions in, and coming out with many of the same conclusions that Poizner did. But Mr. Poizner, one thing, my kids were fantastically successful in what I was trying to help them do (often despite my efforts to help), and I didn't get a Stand and Deliver moment, either.
The defendant also acknowledges working on something a little like This American Life fanfiction as a frame for part of a larger fiction project she's working on. But it's not fanfic if it's just used to pedal some exposition, right?
Allegation Two: Bicycling is my fandom.
Based on the facts provided, the defendant can neither admit nor deny allegation two. I will, however, note that there are some times you should Just Know Better, and 40mph gusts of wind from the south while you are heading south is just one of those times. I swear there were times I was rolling backwards, and my attempt to ride on the streets for as long as possible so the buildings would block the wind just filled my eyes with dust. I gave up at 29th street and took the bus. In keeping with the prior theme, it was the 3 King Drive bus, which took me through what I suppose would be a rough part of town, except I was busy noticing that 43rd street (which I walked down every week I was working at King) was actually Muddy Waters street and we have a secret blues district (I am rarely as far west as King Drive, which is why I don't know these things). The secret blues district doesn't seem to have any of our blues clubs, though... probably because blues clubs are for tourists. Also I was also busy commiserating with the other bike commuter who'd given in against the relentless sandblasting and lack of momentum.
Allegation Three: My job is my fandom.
LIES. Though after the morally questionable things I've witnessed, I have the dumbest fiction bunny ever. It's something that would probably count as work fanfic, written like an RTD Doctor Who finale. I'm not sure which side I'd be parodying, but at this point, given the way my job just endlessly one-ups itself as far as evil plots go, it seems like pretty much the only way to write it and do it any kind of justice.
In other news, I think
aphelion_rpg may be my actual fandom, because it's been eating up my brain in wonderful ways lately. Even if I still haven't (and may never) nailed down the Master's motivations or voice properly (darn you, lack of canon scenarios in which he is not completely in charge of the situation after months of careful planning that already happened behind the scenes and/or bats!). And I need to stop laughing at stupid plot ideas at work, even if the thought of supercharging a set of jet engines attached to giant space conkers a spinning couple of asteroids seems like fun. Saddest fact of the night: I researched this, too, and came to the conclusion that manufacturing nitrous oxide on top of the liquid hydrogen and oxygen needed for fuel would be pretty useless and not have as big an effect as my pseudoscience-preferring background would like.
Oh right also guys, hi, I'm a massive nerd.
The defendant admits the allegations in section one. It seems like every other week has been relevant-to-my-interests awesome lately (with differently-awesome in between). In particular, the segment on Steve Poizner's book about teaching in a high school in San Jose was fantastic for getting me thinking about all the ways I could've come at my high school DI teams from a completely different angle. Given my background (and, honestly, my dayglo paleness), they were probably expecting White Privileged Girl Comes in to Frightening Inner-City School to Prove She's got a Heart of Gold, which explains the very different reactions I got between the beginning and end. Between me cementing my idea that King College Prep is pretty much not frightening, despite the efforts of the kids who heckled me occasionally when I came in to the school and them (hopefully) figuring out that I was there for fun and not to polish my resume by getting my feet a bit dirty, there was a lot of opportunity for misinterpretation. I'm very glad I came at it from enough of a middling background not to be frightened by the lack of Ferrari dealerships and bakeries (au contraire, I generally ended up going 'Holy crap Kenwood is bigger than I thought and frak man what is with all these mansions? And they're only a couple of blocks from these frightening empty lots and derelict buildings! Also, I notice that no one is killing me right now, cool'). But that's the amazing thing--I get the impression that Mount Pleasant was a lot like King. Bordered by a pretty affluent area, but still a public school firmly on the middle ground, even if the drop-off between affluent and inner-city was a lot closer together, and a lot more pronounced--there's not much in Chicago that is white picket fences. I could see someone bringing the same sort of preconceptions in, and coming out with many of the same conclusions that Poizner did. But Mr. Poizner, one thing, my kids were fantastically successful in what I was trying to help them do (often despite my efforts to help), and I didn't get a Stand and Deliver moment, either.
The defendant also acknowledges working on something a little like This American Life fanfiction as a frame for part of a larger fiction project she's working on. But it's not fanfic if it's just used to pedal some exposition, right?
Allegation Two: Bicycling is my fandom.
Based on the facts provided, the defendant can neither admit nor deny allegation two. I will, however, note that there are some times you should Just Know Better, and 40mph gusts of wind from the south while you are heading south is just one of those times. I swear there were times I was rolling backwards, and my attempt to ride on the streets for as long as possible so the buildings would block the wind just filled my eyes with dust. I gave up at 29th street and took the bus. In keeping with the prior theme, it was the 3 King Drive bus, which took me through what I suppose would be a rough part of town, except I was busy noticing that 43rd street (which I walked down every week I was working at King) was actually Muddy Waters street and we have a secret blues district (I am rarely as far west as King Drive, which is why I don't know these things). The secret blues district doesn't seem to have any of our blues clubs, though... probably because blues clubs are for tourists. Also I was also busy commiserating with the other bike commuter who'd given in against the relentless sandblasting and lack of momentum.
Allegation Three: My job is my fandom.
LIES. Though after the morally questionable things I've witnessed, I have the dumbest fiction bunny ever. It's something that would probably count as work fanfic, written like an RTD Doctor Who finale. I'm not sure which side I'd be parodying, but at this point, given the way my job just endlessly one-ups itself as far as evil plots go, it seems like pretty much the only way to write it and do it any kind of justice.
In other news, I think
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Oh right also guys, hi, I'm a massive nerd.
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