Here I am

OK-I'm in my new place. Not everything is unpacked-but I can find several pairs of pants. So, that's good. One day, I hope to have a bar in the closet, so I can hang same trousers up.
If I ever get unpacked I should be very happy here. I love the large main room set up. The place is OPEN! Something I had forgotten (if I'd ever known) the joy of having.
I even have enough room for a little dining room set. Not that I'd ever eat there. But, I have this dream of sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, doing the New York Times crossword puzzle on a Sunday morning.
I love a good crossword puzzle, don't you?
Once, I almost completely finished the Monday NYT puzzle. I WAS SO PROUD OF ME!

Coupland is happy here. I'm here. So he's happy. When I'm not here, he's seriously pissed off right now. He's such a Mama's boy that little guy. Got to love him. He's the best doggy ever.
Al is kind of insane and I think he might be evil. At the moment, he is chasing a big around the living room. It's fascinating him like new episodes of House fascinate me. Yeah, kitty is evil. He is Steve the cat's brother from another mother.

The move-I nearly killed myself trying to do it. I would have done without help. Lucky for me, I had help (paid, but whatevs) from one of my co-workers' SO. The two of us worked our asses off, but we got the job done. Just two of us. Before noon on Saturday. I only wrapped my head around that concept about three hours ago. It was rather daunting.

I'm still adjusting to certain things-not having to hide my beer, not dreading the appearance of my landlord, not going out Eastland to get home. But, eh, I'm figuring things out.

ON YR INTERWEBS! SPOILIN YR HARRY POTTER!

My Harry Potter Spoiler of Doom is: Neo from the Matrix gets a large, unsightly bruise and rids the world of Daleks Get your Harry Potter Spoiler of Doom

BUT WAIT THERE'S MORE!

My Harry Potter Spoiler of Doom is: Harry Potter gives up magic for synchronized swimming with the help of a small force of US Marines Get your Harry Potter Spoiler of Doom

IT'S ABOUT DAMN TIME! G-DLESS WIZARDS WITH THEIR MAGIC AND THEIR DEFYING OF THE LORD!

My Harry Potter Spoiler of Doom is: Harry discovers Jesus and becomes a Bishop during the Triwizard Tournament Get your Harry Potter Spoiler of Doom

I'm a little excited. OK?

I sincerely miss those heavy metal bands

OK SRSLY you guyfs. I is tired and frustrated and there is no way in hellz that I will be able to get moved by next weekend at this rate.
Hell fire and brimstone! I don't even have a lease in writing. Just a word. I've been working my ballz off trying to get the place cleaned up and I could not have a place to live yet.
But I've given notice and said I'd be out of here.
So, I have to move by the 1st, wherever it is I do.

And tomorrow is Potterdamurung! DO YOU KNOW HOW IMPORTANT THAT IS?
WAY FUCKIN' IMPORTANT DUDES!

The kitchen, living room and bedroom all look pretty good. Dirty, but painted and tarted up to look presentable.
As I understand it, the cleaning isn't all my responsibility.

The bathroom is a lot like my idea of torture.
I tried to be so tidy about it, but shit, it looks...well, like shit.
The purple is all wrong (too white, I can live with it but I wanted PURPLE!) and it isn't covering the primer as well as the can advertised that it would.
Then, despite all my care, it dripped and I didn't notice until too late and fuckin' hell. I was trying to be so NEAT! AND I FAILED!
I AM A FAIL-Y FAILING FAILURE WHO IS MADE OF 100% PURE AND NATURAL FAIL!!!!1

Makes me cranky.

I'm also covered in paint. It isn't pretty.

And again, I am nowhere near where I want to be in the packing process. It isn't going good.

I don't know how I'm going to work and pack and paint and everything else I need to do. This is all on me, that's the problem. Usually, I want it to be all on me, but I'm SO spoiled. I've always had someone to kick my butt and MAKE me work in situations like this. Ask Mik or Mum-they know how easily distracted I am. I'm the last person you want on your packing team. Hell, you've probably met me, you know. I see and shiny thing and I'm gone. Do you have any idea how many shiny things there are around here?

WAH! WAH! WHIMPER! Poor me! I am SO downtrodden! WHATEVER SHALL I DO?

Just maybe I'm to blame for all I've heard, but I'm not sure

The continuing saga of my saga continues.
Finally, today, after a two day long panic thing that made me unable to achieve REM sleep and in general made me twitchier than usual, I called Stupid Bitch and told her I'm moving.
First-I spoke with the Codes Inspector who is going to try to make a special stop on Saturday to look at the giant gaping hole in the floor. Then-I spoke with Legal Services who told me that based on the situation I should give 30 days written notice but since the Stupid Bitch clearly likes me as much as I like her simply informing her of my impending exit should be sufficient.
SO-with a little liquid courage (tea-good old tea-always go for a nice cup of tea-fixes what ails ya, it does) under my belt I phoned Stupid Bitch.
The conversation went something like this:
ME: "HI *Stupid Bitch* it's *Me*. I've found an apartment. I'll be out by August 1st. I know it's short notice, if it matters that much keep the security deposit. Keep it all. I don't care. I'm moving out."
STUPID BITCH: "OK." *CLICK*

Then my pulse rate sped up, my heart started pounding so hard that my chest ached and I went and locked myself in a stall in the restroom and had dry heaves for 5 minutes.

During that time Stupid Bitch called and told me that she had to inspect the apartment before I moved and if it was in the same condition as when I moved in I would get my deposit back. I don't know if I should call and tell her to wait until after I've moved out. I think I'll just leave her a note.
I'm not betting on seeing any of that money. If I have to be there for that inspection--I really don't want to be there.
And I don't really care about the money. It's $250-$300. $100 is cleaning fee. Won't see that again. $75 is a pet fee. No one ever gets their pet fee back. $125 is actual deposit. I've lived there three years. There's probably $125 worth of stuff that needs repaired. YOU KNOW LIKE THE FUCKIN' FLOOR!

I wish I had some motivation to keep me going after I get home from work. When I get home I'm so tired. Just exhausted, and I try to do work, but it's hard. I think I have a situational depression thing going on. Hiding the cat isn't helping. Everyday, I'm terrified that Stupid Bitch will let herself into the apartment and find the cat. I don't know what I think she'd do, but for some reason I have these irrational (I guess...) fears that she'd do something to Coupland. Accidentally on purpose leave the door open and let him out. To spite me for hiding Al. It gives me nightmares. I can't concentrate at work because I'm afraid she's going to come into the apartment.
Pretty much, I'm freaking the fuck out. I wish I could get at least Al (and maybe Coupland too-but that would be very depressing) out of the place until I moved. If I didn't have to worry about protecting them, well, I can protect myself. They can't.

Between you and me and the lamppost-I think I'm having a little bit of a nervous breakdown.

I'm just a loner baby and now you've gotten in my way

Because I was told by everyone with whom I spoke that I should-I reported my landlady to the Dept. of Codes and Human Safety for having a dilapidated structure.
The points I mentioned:
1) There is a hole big enough for my head to fit through in the bathroom floor. She has seen this hole, my mom made a point of showing it to her. The Bitch told me to put a piece of wood or metal over it so whatever chewed its way through the floor couldn't get into the apartment.
2) The toilet is sinking into the floor. When she was told about this she sent her 90 year old deaf and semi-blind friend over with a screw driver to fix it. When he said he couldn't, she hired some people who brought a tube of caulk and caulked around the base of the toilet. They also added splash bars on the shower and told her the reason the toilet was sinking was because the shower/bathtub leaked. She then called me repeatedly to give me instructions on how to use a shower properly. Because the only possible way there could be a leak coming from a bathtub is if the shower curtain's open. Not because the bathtub is poorly installed or there's a problem with the plumbing. The toilet has also never flushed properly. It backs up ~1 x a week.
3) The whole never had hot water issue. Which is a pretty big one.

Now, I've also got a call in to Consumer Complaints. I'm going to bring up such important points as the ones mentioned above and the fact that she was discriminatory against my family and friends stating that she "didn't want that kind of person" around her house. Since not all my friends are white Christian females, I think I have a pretty good argument that she was acting in a bigoted manner.

I want my security deposit back. And I am going to do whatever it takes to get it.

She has absolutely no idea how capable I am of fucking with someone. I am very tired of being fucked with by that Stupid Bitch and by G-d I'm going to give her a taste of what she's been lucky enough as to avoid for the last three years.

The best part is that, as I understand the law, the inspector doesn't have to find that my complaints have merit (which they do-but SB is a professional slum lord-so I'm sure she knows ALL the loopholes). I have covered my ass by reporting her. I have stated that she called my requests for maintenance unreasonable. A landlord cannot call a request for basic repairs (such as having a floor that is free of gaping holes) unreasonable.

Oooh-baby----this is fun. It makes me feel like this:

No more Mr. Nice Guy

Actual fun quote from an email today regarding a meeting I set up in a kind of fuck you all I'm booking this conference room and you can show up or not I don't give a shit moment:
"As I have told you at least 3 times previous, I am not available before 4pm."
Response I didn't send:
"As I have been refraining from telling you, but I feel you live me no choice: balls or GTFO."

I really don't want to see this guy's balls. I'd rather he just GTFO.

I'd been all day paranoiding that Stupid Bitch would let herself into the apt and find Al. But then I started thinking-wouldn't that be perfect? She would have to evict me in writing (As opposed to verbally) and then I wouldn't have to have an attack about the possibility she might try to sue me when I move out. Dealing with a crazy person with legal rights is no fun. The mentally absent shouldn't be in positions of authority. I say that as person who is mentally distracted at least.

Then I went all spaz on the possibility that the future landlords will back out on the spoken word agreement.
Then, I coped with that by taking my dog to the dog park drinking a couple of beers and watching History Boys on DVD.

I am in love with Stephen Campbell Moore. He's awesome.

If you'll be my bodyguard

"So, how much work do you actually have during the day?"
"What kind of question is that Dad? I have 8 full hours of work every day."
*Pause*
"I'm there 8 hours a day."
*Pause*
"About 2 1/2 hours."
"That's what I thought. And the rest of the time?"
"I'm a special kind of productive."

There is a new apartment in my future. When I'm not tired I'll sketch out a floorplan in paint and subject people to my amazing skillz. Until then, I say that it is small, but private and I can do what I want to it.
I went to the Habitat for Humanity store after work today. They have buckets and buckets of paint for $5 a gallon and rolls of carpet for $35. Why shop anywhere else? I'm going to spend some time there this weekend picking through the paint and go to the housewares store and see if they have anything I can't live without. I'm sure they do.
And after some figuring, I don't think it'll be that much more than what I'm paying now. Maybe $50. So, I might have to cancel the cable. Or maybe I won't. Depends on my mood.
Whatever, as Mik (aka Ms. Got Me Evicted) said, Old Landlady is Rubbish. (I like to imagine her saying this with a POSH BRITISH ACCENT.)
Or, as Mum said, "Fuck her."
I can't wait to get to decorating this new place. It's got CHARACTER. (Code for I'm moving into a pigsty but whatevs. It's gonna be great. Once it's been cleaned up.)
I'm excited. I even get a porch. All I don't get is a washer hookup. But that's something I can work with. Maybe they'll let me use their washer. Maybe I'll go to the laundrette twice a month.

AND at work I successfully scheduled 3 meetings today! I am SO PROUD OF ME!
It doesn't take much.
I'm a screw up.

Mostly, I tried to figure out what I'm going to do about internet (gots to have my web) and googled random stuff.

Like this. This is so funny I was literally crying. Tears. Streaming down my face. Painful laughter. I thought I was going to hyperventilate. It's got to be about the funniest thing I've ever read.

Despite the fact that I'm laughing just thinking about that, I can guarantee no one reading this will even crack a smile. If you laugh even half as hard as I did, I wish to marry you. It'll be a small ceremony, just family and friends. Afterwards, we'll throw a huge party with everyone we know invited and I'll sing Volare and Blue Moon of Kentucky. You can perform an impromptu rap song and sing Georgia on My Mind. Everyone will smoke cigars and snack on microwave popcorn and lite beer. It'll be beautiful.

If that didn't amuse you, perhaps you are feeling too emo to enjoy that touching tribute. Maybe what you need is something a little more intense and thoughtful. Something that really showcases your pain.
You'll probably want to watch that twice, to get the full impact. I'm still crying.

Coupland is sitting in the light of the TV. He's glowing like a devil dog. It's cute.

"So, what did you name the cat?"
"Al."
"Al?"
"Al."
"Like, you can call me Al?"
"Kind of like that, yeah."
"Strange name for a cat."
"Have you ever met two cats named Steve and Jeff?"
"They didn't name them."
"Well, I did name Al. It's a good name. He's a lucky cat. He gets to do a video with Chevy Chase."
"Is that lucky?"
"Might have been, at one time."

Good luck movin' up

Here's my house hunting story for the day.
I put an add in the local newsgroup describing what I wanted in a place. Got a response. Scheduled a time to look at the apt for this afternoon. Went over. No one was home. Called. They were on their way to a movie.
Great.
I looked around the place. It needs A LOT of work. But it could be awesome. Really and truly awesome. But it's a real pit right now. Sad thing, I'll take it if it's offered. A few coats of paint, some cool posters, a stove and a fridge (that stuff is easy to get off of Craigslist) and it would be very nice. $200. Tops. Total and complete tops. I could probably do it for less than that and still make it great.
It's a free standing place and there's a yard.
It could be kind of ideal.
But right now, it's barely livable.
And they're obviously in no hurry to rent it. Or they would've been there this afternoon.
I can't keep living here. It's ridiculous. I have to be out by the 1st of August. That's my decision. I could force the issue and stay through Aug. But I don't want to. I don't want to stay through next Wednesday.

As for the place I looked at Sunday. I haven't heard anything. But they said something about making a decision around Wednesday. I really hope that works out. That place was awesome and I wouldn't have to work to make it rock and roll.
I emailed them and called today. But didn't hear anything or leave a message.
I don't want to be a pest-but I WANT that APT!


Mik was fully upset when she heard that I was basically evicted because of her. It is agreed that Stupid Bitch is a hateful old woman and I need to get away from her ASAP. I can't wait to get out of here. That old bitch doesn't know what she's got with me. So I'm not her friend. I'm not a crazy old woman. And I have pets. She knew that when I moved in. Yeh, they're different pets. But I've always had pets.

I've been trying to just have faith that everything will work out. I'm on more prayer lists than I can count. But, seeing as I'm not Christian, I wonder if that means it doesn't matter who I have pulling for me? Do Jews, Hindus and Humanists get the benefits of prayer? Or are we SOL?

I'm going to go watch my Quantum Leap DVDs more (no House tonight! WAH!) and try to think good thoughts.

Oh-and the response to my post on that message board-you know the one---Does anyone else live in that narcissist's world? Wow, sorry your life is in upheaval I met [famous guy on show I like] and I'm doing [something I don't care about] and me me me me! Hey, I don't pretend to give a damn about people. I know I only talk about me. But I'm HONEST about it.
What an annoying person. She's such old meme she's one step away from announcing the specials at the bar.

Wouldn't dare to hope, and yet

Well, Stupid Bitch indeed said something about Mik's visit. So, after a few words, I told her I'd be moving as soon as possible. Not exactly my plan, but I'm cool with it. I'm even kind of thrilled about the prospect. I'm a gypsy. Gypsies move.
I can be out of here in 15 minutes.
The only thing that matters is that I have to stay in East Nashville. Other than that, I'm not picky. But I have to stay in the 'hood.
Money's no issue. Theoretically. I won't be leasing a $800 a month bungalow or anything. But, I can afford a better place.
The sooner I'm out of here, the better. That's my opinion. I'll lose half a month's rent to get out from under this situation. It's not like I'm being tormented. But, don't I deserve the right to be able to sit out on my porch and listen to the Stones? What's so bad about that?
I've never been able to do that. Haven't felt comfortable. The one time I tried it, I was threatened with the police.

All that and I'm hiding Al until I move. That's kind of stressful. Lucky for me, that's all worked out. Hell, Stupid Bitch made me promise that I "wouldn't bring anymore strange animals into the apartment." She didn't say I couldn't keep the strange animals I already have. Semantics are my friend. And, lucky for me, I have a friend that harbors strange animals when necessary. But once we move, me and Coupland and Al will have a good set up that'll work for all of us. And where we'll be welcome.

If you've got any good vibes to spare-send some my way. It's not like I need 'em, but, I could use all the help I can get.
And, if you're feeling particularly fun filled...send some "I hope you get exactly the kind of tenant you deserve, bitch" vibes to the Stupid Bitch. I think she has no idea how lucky she is and I'd love to help her realize how truly blessed she's been. It's good to understand your blessings. Don't you think?

Here--have a picture of Al:

Oh, hai guyfs. I am Al. I is not a hologram. I is a cat. I can has cheeseburger?

Driven by an unknown force

Twilight Zone marathons are simultaneously the greatest way to waste a holiday and one of the worst ideas ever. I've seen every episode ~ 7 dozen times. The irony factor is gone. But I watch. And watch. And lay on the couch and keep right on watching. Big fun. Just like most things I do.

The sister person got an early start and was in Cashville by 1:30. She handed me a cat, said something resembling hello, walked to the fridge, pulled out a beer, sat down on the couch and said "I don't want to watch The Twilight Zone. What else have you got?"

We watched the Todd Snider DVD until she said we didn't want to watch that anymore but wanted to go sit outside so that she could smoke cigarettes. I usually don't go outside when the Stupid Bitch is home. Don't want to give her the option to speak to me or anything. Not only was Stupid Bitch home, she had a bunch of Stupid Ass Relatives at the house. Just my very image of hell.

The Stupid Bitch never had much fondness for Mik. For whatever reason. But Stupid Bitch can choke on shit on die. I don't have any fondness for the Stupid Bitch. But I don't let it show.

Despite my basic rule of not letting the Stupid Bitch see me ever, I followed Mik out. She smoked. We drank beer. I don't advertise that I ingest alcohol to the Stupid Bitch, because that qualifies as information about me and all I want her to know about what I do with my life these days is that whatever it is it provides me with money to pay my rent so that she can leave me the fuck alone. G-d, I hate her so much. But, I try to be nice. I waved at her when she was walking her dog last night. She didn't wave back. What a cow. State sponsored institution is too good for her.

So. Mik and I were sitting outside, in the front yard, under the tree. We discussed exactly what makes a fop and why is foppishness so attractive. This was our regularly scheduled "Hugh Grant is so awesome and I don't know WHY!" conversation. It's been going on for years. One day, I assume, we'll figure it out. We also tried to figure out how to pronounce Bill Nighy's name and the relative merits of Liev Shreiber and Eric Borgosian. We also talked much too long about American Theatre. Which I know more about the state of than she does. Oh, irony. She doesn't care. I have nothing better to do. OK, I probably do. But not better enough to actually inspire me to do it.

The Rose Pepper was closed for the holiday. So, I went up to the Piggly Wiggly and bought a can of beans and we had the tradition 4th of July meal of spaghetti, kale and white beans and bruscetta. Followed by soy ice cream. Deeee-licious!
It was decided that leaving the house was overrated. Besides, there were the cats and dog to consider. It's possible they might realize that they were from different, warring species and that would be bad.

I turned on a Quantum Leap DVD and started watching an episode where Sam was a rabbi. (Not one of my favorites. But it was alright. The next episode, Jimmy, was great. Love that one.) Mik was asleep in no time. She slept through four episodes. (Yes, I watched 4 episodes of Quantum Leap AFTER watching I have no idea how many episodes of the Twilight Zone. I am that cool.) When she woke up (after the Man of La Mancha episode, the episode that has cursed me with having the title "I am I Don Quixote! The Lord of La Mancha!" song going through my head all bloody day long) she complained that it was really fuckin' dark and what the hell? Geez, kid, wouldn't know. Not like you've been asleep for four hours or anything. Must be a storm coming. Batten down the hatches.

She was hungry again, so she scrounged for food. Then she told a couple of dirty jokes. No. I don't know why. I drank another beer.

A kitten has taken up residence in my yard. I've been trying to sneak up on it and catch it and I will take it in and I will love it and hug it and call it George. But kitten is wile e. Mik took some of Steve and Jeff's treats and we went out on a kitten hunt. The rednecks in the hood were firing off fireworks. It was a pretty impressive display for the location. I crawled on the ground, my only light coming from streetlights down the block and the flash of bottle rockets, trying to capture that pussy cat. But it would not be caught! No kitty would have none of that! We must have looked pretty damn funny, laying flat on our stomachs staring under the car watching the movements of a eency wittle kitty puss.

She did my dishes. But then, she made that gigantic meal and used 17 pans and left a stack of dirty dishes in the sink and every time she wanted more ice cream she got a new spoon. But I can't complain because I really didn't want to do anything but hang out and watch DVDs anyway. So, other than the Stupid Bitch being present factor it was a pretty ideal day, really. At some point we sang 'Guitar Town' and I booked her a hotel room for Baton Rouge. The trip involves driving through all these towns with exotic names. Meridian and Opelousus and Baton Rouge and places that turn up in songs. She should be within 2 hours of there, now. I hope she gets there without any problem. Those poor cats. They'll be so happy to get home to their new place and have their Mommy and Daddy together finally. Then, they'll be Texas CowCats. That's what she says they'll be: Steve and Jeff, the CowCats. She regretted not buying them little cowboy hats. I bet they didn't feel the same way.

The fireworks kept Coupland up all night. He, in turn, shared his feelings about this with Mik. Who couldn't sleep through his diatribe. I could. He was in the living room with her. Ha! Steve came in and slept with me. Ha! Again.

This morning, Mik got up at 4:30 and I stumbled, confused and disoriented, out of bed 10 minutes later. She was on the road by 5:30 and I somehow managed to get to work by 8. I kept trying to go back to sleep.

Big exciting visit, eh? One of the biggest and most exciting.
I'm just waiting for the Stupid Bitch to call and say something about something that only makes sense to her. I've decided to stop taking her calls and just let them go to voicemail and only listen to those when I'm in a really good mood. But I just dare her to say something about how she doesn't approve of our actions and that we angered the King of the Potato People.

That's that, really. I guess that she and J got some furniture for their place. Leather! HA HA! And a TV. I got paid today. Or will tomorrow. I dunno. I had to re-re-re-do the month end hospice numbers today and that gave me the start of a migraine/tension/just stop buttering that toast so loud will you? headache thing. I was fine until then.

I have to have something to complain about. It gives me the will to carry on.

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale...

Alright-now that you've got the Gilligan's Island theme in your head...Remember how in the first season The Professor and Mary Ann were only "And the rest"? Keep that in mind.

Yesterday someone posted something stupid (what, I have no idea because I did the craziest damn thing, I skipped it because it sounded stupid) in House/Wilson a interweb community dedicated to all things House and Wilson related. All things. The good. The bad. The unbelievably, eye bleedingly bad. The OH MY G-D THE HUMANITY!!! bad. It's all there. I posted my first fic there. People have been very welcoming to me there and I appreciate that the community for being the way it is.

Enter Moony. Yesterday, Moony posted, in a now flocked or bahleeted post, that s/h/it was "Fucking done with House_Wilson" because all that was left there was poorly written shit. That went over so well that s/h/it created a moderated, invite only comm called Hausvilson-cute, and so S2, if not 1. A couple dozen invites were sent, 5 people accepted. The uninvited became righteously indignant. Yes, I was among the univited. I wouldn't have joined anyway. I don't care about being a Big Name Fan. Has there ever been an instance when I've been worried too much about being liked? I don't give a fuck. What I do love is a good grudge match. I just want to be amusing in the way I'm capable. I don't need to be recognized by a known shit-stirrer (relevant entries deleted) to consider myself a decent member of the community. I have no problem with it, I think it could be very cool, but the was this was handled was the definition of not cool.

Leiascully makes a well thought out and intelligent post in response to this situation. Moony pops in and tries to defend her defenseless position. A task that would have been much easier if the community had been created sometime other than after 2 straight weeks of huffing and puffing about how few people correspond to her idea of what makes a good story. Another fan could pull this community off. Someone that enjoyed fandom for what it is and doesn't let politics and hierarchy skew her opinion on someone's work. The kind of fan that wouldn't start this kind of community.

In the last post linked above Moony begins the process of back-pedaling. First, she says that the community is open to suggestions. When faced with points regarding her lack of open-mindedness and general drama queen antics she begins to state that maybe it 'just isn't worth it.' A couple of hours later, she is thinking that the community should be taken off of invite only status (most likely because nearly all of the invited people have made it known the don't play that kind of game and some of the people that might play that game apparently weren't invited).

A few others weigh in. I participated in only one of these conversations. I'm easy to find. The dog gives it away if the name doesn't.


A one person unanimous compromise is reached.

I am fascinated by this stuff. What fascinates me most is the sensible conversation that went on. There's an easy target, who is acting persecuted, but who is just disliked. Everyone else is being very intelligent about the whole thing. I believe that shows that fandom isn't in trouble. It's in flux. And thank G-d for that. A static community is a dead community