Aeternus

Most of the critical complaints have been about the tone; in a review from 2005, Professor Victoria of Spagonia University said, "The constant self-aggrandizement undercuts the idea that its subject ought to be taken seriously. Also, wasn't the 'feminist' line from the Sonic Heroes manual a mistranslation of 'womanizer'?"

In my AP Art class, there was a girl who was just starting to experiment with mixed media. At this point she was still playing around, trying to decide what direction she wanted to go with her portfolio. So one critique day, she brought in an abstract canvas with some rhinestone highlights and painted and real peacock feathers. She loved sparkles and peacock feathers so she thought she’d try introducing them a *little*. And after everyone had given some input, the teacher gave her his advice, VERY roughly paraphrased here:

“So here’s the thing… I do not like this style. These are just elements that do not speak to me personally, but I see that you like them, and you’re doing interesting things with them.

“My biggest critique is, I only merely *dislike* this piece. I want you to make me HATE it. Go crazy with the things that you like. Don’t hold back trying to make it palatable to people like me. Because I am NEVER going to like it. And if the audience does not like it, it should drive them crazy seeing how much YOU love it.”

Her portfolio was chock full of neon colors and glitter and rhinestones and splashes of peacock feathers and it was a delight. Our teacher despised every piece lol, but she got great marks and I think even won some awards. And more importantly, she was happy and proud of the results. Because she didn’t limit herself by trying to appeal to people who were never going to enjoy what she enjoyed.

ME: Ah! I've been a library assistant for 5 years. Surely I can explain this in a reasonable and nuanced, yet concise way!

2 HOURS LATER:

Like, here are some VERY COMMON examples of personal breaking points that can come up in archiving:

Trans person whose friend keeps writing Harry Potter fanfic

Parent whose coworker loves drawing shota/lolicon

Uncle going down an anti-vax documentary hole

Mom pushing diet magazines on her daughter

Racist old dudes on school reading lists

True crime Youtube clickbaits

AI-generated Elsagate brainrot shorts

Comic books by a white guy posing as Asian

$2 exploitation porn DVDs

School shooter simulator video game

Guides on making explosives

LiveLeak content

Odds are pretty good that at least one of those made you, reading this, viscerally cringe and want to argue about, WHICH IS WHAT I MEAN. Every person has a breaking point, and THAT'S NORMAL.

The point of the library training isn't to make you into a unique person who has never, ever been reviled by or wanted to destroy a piece of media. It's to learn how to live with that feeling, step back, and work with your team to maintain the archive, anyway.

And sometimes, maintaining means recognizing that not every place IS an archive! I'm only able to maintain an archive space BECAUSE I know I have spaces where the stuff that revolts me is banned! It's okay to curate multiple spaces; tolerance is more than blind acceptance.

The library archives information, the bar should not be allowed to become a Nazi bar. The AO3 tags archive every fic, the Discord group chat isn't made to be a museum. You don't have to take everything home with you at all times to prove yourself.

it’s been 9 years since i wrote this. i was experiencing 24/7 anxiety so badly that i needed serious medication. these days in the back of my car is an “emergency party box.” when people admit they no longer really celebrate their birthday; i tell them to put the sash on and queue up kesha, we’re going bowling or something. these days i can’t spin around without finding something i am enamored with. these days i list 3 things i’m grateful for before i fall asleep. you’re probably one of them, just by virtue of you existing.

at the time i wrote this, i was suffering through a severe panic attack literally every night. i tortured my brother with constant 2 AM calls just to hear someone else breathing, because i couldn’t be alone in the silence.

i rarely wish i was still 23 even though ironically i had more hope back then. what i can tell you is this: i love the same way, but bigger now. i’ve worn the velvet cape to several business meetings. i spent thursday in a crop top without caring what my stomach looked like.

i told her i like her; i often dress as a witch. i still got glass in my foot this morning. i’ve kissed maybe a thousand people since then and met a million more than that; passing like the shadow of a hammerhead in trains and planes and buses.

i saw you, beloved, there, maybe, on platform in south station. you didn’t speak, but you said: i struggle to give the nothing meaning. the nothing fills up everything. it is just loud and yellowed panicked silence. i can’t stop shaking.

on the roof, birds curl together against the chilled spring wind. the sky outside of the craft store was an iridescent pink. the nothing already had meaning; you are giving it meaning by witnessing.