philippos42 (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
philippos42) wrote2013-12-29 02:04 pm
philippos42) wrote2013-12-29 02:04 pm
Why feedback matters to me
A ver' long time ago, I remember going to a mike on a sort of open mike night and doing something. I don't remember what I was doing. I don't sing, really, I'm not funny, so...some kind of recitation? Maybe that was the problem.
But I have this strong memory of trying to speak into a microphone and getting an audience full of blank stares. Afterward, someone came up to me and asked to read what I was reading from (so there was something written down, I guess).
What I got from this is that no one understands me. I suppose I have a strange accent; I know I mumble. I fear that the things I try to do are utterly unimpressive, the things I think are interesting are just confusing or trite, and/or whatever I put out there is inappropriate to venue or incomprehensible.
When I post something on DW/LJ/tumblr, and get no response, I feel like this sense of self is confirmed. That I am babbling incoherently to myself in some autistic existence, unaware that all that I write is (invisibly to me) somehow worthless, childish, or in Eurish. I don't even know what's wrong.
I may pretend to be indifferent to the opinions of others, but I feel the lack of praise, or even acknowledgement, keenly. I always worry that people say nothing at all because there is nothing nice to say.
On journal sites, I do often read something and go on, without comment. On a site like DeviantArt, I don't want to be too generous with my "likes" for fear of making the list of "likes" to vast to look through. But I do like to comment sometimes just to show someone is listening, someone appreciates the work done or the thoughts thunk. And I do this because I know what it is to shout into the internet and get less than "meh" in return.
I'm not trying to shame folks into commenting on my paltry posts. I'm just trying to explain my own neurotic fear that I make no sense. Honestly, if someone commented on my stuff as much as I comment on beccaelizabeth's blog, I might well roll my eyes at their comments. Maybe it's, "Look at this unwanted attention seeker." Or it's, "Thanks, 'mom,' for trying to make me feel loved."
And I am quite sure that I have never been and will never be as important to several people I know online as they are to me.
What I would like is this: If I write something stupid, call me on it and help me be less stupid. If (at some point, theoretically) I write something smart and insightful, maybe say thanks for that. And I imagine other posters feel the same sort of way, or the same way sort of.
I don't have a lot of DW friends, I know, and some of you probably don't look through your flist that much, or have such a long one that you just read and go on. But once in a while, say hi to your listfriends, OK?
But I have this strong memory of trying to speak into a microphone and getting an audience full of blank stares. Afterward, someone came up to me and asked to read what I was reading from (so there was something written down, I guess).
What I got from this is that no one understands me. I suppose I have a strange accent; I know I mumble. I fear that the things I try to do are utterly unimpressive, the things I think are interesting are just confusing or trite, and/or whatever I put out there is inappropriate to venue or incomprehensible.
When I post something on DW/LJ/tumblr, and get no response, I feel like this sense of self is confirmed. That I am babbling incoherently to myself in some autistic existence, unaware that all that I write is (invisibly to me) somehow worthless, childish, or in Eurish. I don't even know what's wrong.
I may pretend to be indifferent to the opinions of others, but I feel the lack of praise, or even acknowledgement, keenly. I always worry that people say nothing at all because there is nothing nice to say.
On journal sites, I do often read something and go on, without comment. On a site like DeviantArt, I don't want to be too generous with my "likes" for fear of making the list of "likes" to vast to look through. But I do like to comment sometimes just to show someone is listening, someone appreciates the work done or the thoughts thunk. And I do this because I know what it is to shout into the internet and get less than "meh" in return.
I'm not trying to shame folks into commenting on my paltry posts. I'm just trying to explain my own neurotic fear that I make no sense. Honestly, if someone commented on my stuff as much as I comment on beccaelizabeth's blog, I might well roll my eyes at their comments. Maybe it's, "Look at this unwanted attention seeker." Or it's, "Thanks, 'mom,' for trying to make me feel loved."
And I am quite sure that I have never been and will never be as important to several people I know online as they are to me.
What I would like is this: If I write something stupid, call me on it and help me be less stupid. If (at some point, theoretically) I write something smart and insightful, maybe say thanks for that. And I imagine other posters feel the same sort of way, or the same way sort of.
I don't have a lot of DW friends, I know, and some of you probably don't look through your flist that much, or have such a long one that you just read and go on. But once in a while, say hi to your listfriends, OK?
no subject
no subject
I actually tried to bribe a good, longtime friend into interacting with me on my journal today (in exchange for her trying to bribe others into doing something she wanted done, so at least it didn't look too pathetic--I hope). It's sad.
-J