“why would Shannon put an e at the end if you weren’t meant to pronounce it!?” OKAY WELL first of all, Shannon didn’t make the name, she found it, and we also see similar names such as in artist Georgia O’Keeffe—which admittedly has a slightly different spelling, but not in a way that affects pronunciation. So there’s that. There’s ALSO how we use language and the matter that e’s at the ends of names aren’t pronounced like that on their own in English, to get Keef-ee it would need to be spelled Keefey, Keefie, or Keefee to indicate you need to pronounce the last part. Because names in English that pronounce the final e, such as Zoe, Kobe, or Penelope use different letters right before the end, affecting the final pronunciation and mouth shape. One that Keefe doesn’t naturally have. B and P are categorized together (bilabial plosives) in phonology, and o is a different situation because it’s a vowel. Does this mean you can’t pronounce it keef-ee? No, of course not, it’s a character’s name pronunciation. But it does generally defy typical functioning of English. Which makes KEEF a perfectly reasonable and logical pronunciation. Okay that is all
(disclaimer: this is not serious, there’s no actual venom, I’m simply going to die on this ant hill. and several people were asking how you’d get a KEEF pronunciation out of Keefe. this is how :) )
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thoughts on fanfiction, perfectionism, and being enough
I'm pretty sure I'm ill and half-asleep and the Good Omens fandom has destroyed my last tenuous grasp on reality, but I am making a post anyway not knowing what I'm going to say. Because that's what this site is for, is it not?
*holds out hand* *waits for you to take it* Hey, you know, you're never going to be done. You're never going to look at something you made and think it's perfect. It's never going to be enough. It's okay to stop and it let it be imperfect. The earth didn't just birth life into just the right conditions, it made creatures which evolved and went extinct, ice ages which ended, volcanos that destroyed life and volcanos that preserved cities for millennia. It made jagged rocks that would be smoothened by rivers and stomachs that would hunger, rivers that would flood and rivers that would run dry.
Create imperfect things and give them to the world. Let the world create from it in turn in an endless cycle. Like Milton on the Bible, like BBC with Sherlock Holmes, like anyone writing fanfiction of their favourite show... Let your creation be imperfect, so you can see all the million ways in which people try to perfect it. All the million ways in which perfection can exist. That's the beauty of fandoms and fanworks. It keeps the creation evolving, keeps it breathing and alive. It becomes the work of a million people, and carries their stories with it in a little back pocket.
And maybe we were made to be imperfect too. Our hair tangles just to be brushed, our arm itches just to be scratches, our hand clenches just to be held and unclenched. There are odd shapes that make us up but they fit in with everyone else's, in handshakes, in bridal carries, in a parent lifting a child, a rescue worker lifting a victim, a girl kissing her wife, a child hugging his toy, a person holding their hands in prayer or in pain.
I'm trying to remind myself of that, because it's so easy to keep wanting more, to believe that there will be a point at which I will be satisfied with what I have done. Even in this fandom, I look at my ridiculous summaries I accidentally wound up making, and look at someone's beautiful meta blog and I feel like shrinking a little bit. But in real life, I'm a designer and an artist, a reader and poet and songwriter, and someone who has been a writer the past eight years, if not all my life. Have I done enough to qualify for any of these roles? Who knows? It shouldn't matter to me, and it shouldn't matter to you, whatever you love doing or are doing.
It will never be enough, you will never be enough for yourself. Can we try to make peace with that little gap in ourselves that acts like a vacuum to keep sucking in more and more effort and things? It'll never be filled. That's okay.
*squeezes your hand before letting go* Isn't it amazing how imperfect and fucked up we all are? Isn't it beautiful that we don't have to sit and stare at statues we cannot touch, but we get stone that we can keep carving all we like? That creation starts with imperfection? I don't know if I'm making sense anymore, the medications are kicking in and my eyes are closing. But I love all of you, everyone who is a maggot and everyone reading this post, too.
Take this *holds out a seashell* it's pretty and it's broken and the animal that made it his home changed it, the sea changed it, and I hope you change it, too. That's all.
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I will learn from this
I will adjust
improve
and I will grow.
If that’s not enough for others
that’s out of my control.
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