Why blogging is not really an antidote to Armitagemania

John Porter (Richard Armitage) coerces Katie Dartmouth into agreeing that they will get out of their captivity in Strike Back 1.2. Source: Not sure. This was an early screencap, presumably of an illicit copy. Please notify me if you would like credit.

I picked this picture for this post first just because I really like it and often look at it during the day. Then I mused about how it might reflect my wish for someone to swoop in and intervene in some of my RL problems. Then, as someone firmly in the grip of Armitagemania, I wondered if the captivity metaphor was decisive in the decision to pick it for this post. Finally, though, since I can’t tell you why I picked it, I’ll retreat into analysis: Visually, note how Armitage’s right eye is so vividly and strikingly framed by his eyebrow, the shadows in his eyesocket, and the scrape on his cheekbone. This paragraph is a synecdoche for this post. Or maybe a metonymy. I don’t feel like looking it up at the moment.

Two days of doing my thinking about Mr. Armitage in my paper journal instead of on the computer have been very thought-provoking and enlightening. Two days of being trapped with my thoughts. Regular readers of this blog are aware that, like many other fans of Mr. Armitage, I feel as if I am in the grip of something that is unique in my experience of myself and which I don’t completely understand. At times I happily adopt the persona of fangrrrl and completely give in to the squee, at others, I am troubled by it, sometimes deeply. 

Like the much more cheerful RAFrenzy, a blogger who so often speaks to me from the heart, I started writing this blog as a vent and also in the conviction that if I did it for a little while the impulse would wear off and I could return to thinking about other things. That hasn’t been the case, just as it hasn’t for her. No worries, I’m not going to give up the project as hopeless and stop (at least not at this point) or try to deal with it via repression. The many nice comments you’ve written, and the regular numbers of hits on this blog suggest that, whether or not they agree with or even find time to read what I write, a surprising number of people find it worthy of at least a glance. Writing it continues to be a refuge from the problems besetting me IRL and perhaps that’s its most important function. It surprised me how much I wondered what y’all were doing and saying during my brief days away.

Writing in a journal is really different from blogging, though. There’s only one copy, and I can say whatever I like in it. Most transparently, it includes the sort of reactions that women who were raised as I was typically wouldn’t express anywhere except perhaps in a bedroom or after a great deal of alcohol. Though I am not ashamed of such thoughts I would never articulate them in polite society or even on an anonymous blog. But it goes further than thinking things like, ‘boy, does that man have an amazing _____ [insert name of your favorite Armitage body part] and would I ever like to put my mouth on it.’ Everyone has a different threshold in that regard and those lines turn out to be surprisingly strong. I can’t imagine at this point, for example, that any discussion I wrote of Mr. Armitage’s body would ever reference the term “peaches,” though I wrote a great deal in the last sequence about his “posterior.” I continue to muse upon my almost physical rejection of making reference to him as “RA.” (This is not a criticism of you if you do those things. Just pointing out the visceral durability of certain boundaries that are really not all that important in the end.)

How far one is willing to go in terms of discussing things that might be considered vulgar is ultimately trivial, though, in comparison to what popped out to me yesterday as the real issue for me in why blogging hasn’t solved my Armitage problem. Journaling allowed me express feelings that I probably wouldn’t refer to here, or perhaps only obliquely. When I write directly into the text window on this blog, I am already editing myself to speak to you, my known and imagined readers. Thoughts that are too personal, to embarrassing, too troublesome, too vulnerable, perhaps too unfounded get backspaced over and disappear (or at best copied into the text window of a draft post, there to languish, sometimes indefinitely).

In contrast, as you’ve seen most recently with the clothing discussion, other ideas get developed ad nauseam over several thousand words; they become the expression of a sort of neurotic, compulsive glossolalia that conceals as much as it reveals. I have a weird awareness of detail that heavily complicates my perception of anything and that seems to be intensifying as I get older; giving in to it is pleasurable, but also leaves me in a troubling state of ambivalence about most things, as I simply have too much evidence about everything. These really long posts are an attempt to put my finger on something that recedes inexorably from my grasp the more determinedly I reach for it, an attempt to control the uncontrollable.

The most uncontrollable things, sometimes the most unknowable for me, are my feelings, which I never seem to know in an unmediated way. One seduction of blogs is that they deceptively appear to offer us immediacy. We read blogs, I think, because we think we are getting a glimpse into something unmediated, and to some extent I think I write the blog for the same reason. I want to say how I really feel about watching Mr. Armitage, and those of you who share some of my reactions want to read those statements because they speak about the real.

Nonetheless I realized yesterday that writing here has produced another level of  attenuation from the “real”; I think I get to say what I want, and indeed, everything I write is something I want to say, but I am still writing about it for you as well as me. I’m not sure that we can ever talk about something even in the merely virtual presence of others without altering its shape and content. And all the things I don’t say take on an ever greater significance as the blog wears on. Venting a portion of my reactions lends the “private” an ever greater weight as something dangerous that can’t be expressed or perhaps even admitted and thus adds an edge of something like fear or shame or embarrassment to those matters. All of this material takes on more and more meaning, so that even as I write about Mr. Armitage as a means of letting go of the preoccupation with him, the preoccupation is enhanced.

One has to ask oneself where that fear, shame, and embarrassment come from. Shame that my feelings and reactions, which education, until its unremitting emphasis on self-awareness and self-reflexivity, has taught me to polish to a high degree of complexity, are just as violent and base as those of the average fangrrl? Am I upset that in the end, I am nothing more than another member of the human race? Fear that someone could observe my frightening, unrelenting excitement about Mr. Armitage? Am I afraid that Mr. Armitage could observe it? Do I have concerns about the potential of unethical action with regard to him, or perhaps fear of betraying my own ethical principles? What exactly is it that the fear, shame and embarrassment about my reactions to him think they need to defend about me?

I’m not sure what the answer is to these questions. On the one hand, I think I should write in more depth about my feelings; on the other, my experience up till now suggests that trying to write about them just makes them more intractable. If the blog is to succeed in its stated aim, there is no doubt in my mind that it has to become more like a journal. I thought, for example, about trying to write about my feelings here as if there were no readers there, maybe by closing comments on certain posts. I may still try that. I also doubt that I will be able to leave analysis as a means of organizing and marshalling my reactions behind even at all. Though I am troubled by the amount of time I spend writing on this project to the detriment of things I really need to write, maybe I need to write more for awhile, at least until the summer ends.

I am not sure what will happen next. But stay tuned. It will no doubt be either interesting or boring, troubling or joyful. Every blogger has her rhetorical position or works it out eventually. Natalie’s is humor, for example; Phylly3’s is information and context; RAFrenzy’s is thoughtful delight; mine –for better or for worse– seems to be Angst.

~ by Servetus on June 17, 2010.

50 Responses to “Why blogging is not really an antidote to Armitagemania”

  1. I think the rhetorical position of your blog is not really angst, but deep thinking. You analyze everything about Richard and your (our) reactions towards him in an intelligent way. Although my first reaction (to anything in life, really) may be to crack a joke, I do enjoy reading your insight, along with the other bloggers. 🙂


  2. I think your loyal blog readers look to you to express some of the feelings we have but either haven’t quite acknowledged (yet) or cannot quite express. That said, I do worry that you perhaps take some things too seriously. I hope you have someone in RL to whom you can express some of your feelings. That said, if you would ever like to pm me, I wouldn’t mind trying to help.
    I hope you have a wonderful, restful holiday! All the best to you. And thanks for mentioning my blog, I like the catch phrase!


    • Thanks, Phylly. I think you are right on about taking things too seriously, LOL! 🙂

      I like your blog a lot even though I don’t always comment. You present contexts for things in literature and culture that I am totally unaware of otherwise.


  3. The reason I always check you blog is because you write about your reactions and thoughts about RA, reactions&thoughts we other fans also have and so I would say, yes you are ‘another member of the human race’ 😉 but what makes you different among the human race is the way you dwell on them and give detailed explanations.

    You give me food for thought, I might agree or not with you but that’s the fun of reading blogs, to me at least, read and discuss about interests we have in common (i.e wonderful Richard Armitage).
    The bonus: each of you bloggers have a different way of expressing things that makes things even more fun.

    OML 🙂


    • Thanks, OML. It’s nice to read “dwell on them” as a positive attribute.

      One thing I really like about blogging and commenting on blogs are the distinct individual perspectives of the bloggers. Even if I am not always comfortable with the self I am developing here I am heavily invested in developing it!


  4. Your honesty always impresses me, servetus and I hope that you are starting to understand what this “thing” really means in your own life. I read your blog purely for enjoyment, given our shared obsession (tee hee). I think that we all need something in our lives that we are passionate about. Do it as long as you feel it is helping you and then stop.


    • I’m thankful for the reminder that my current feelings are not necessarily an indicator of the future; this may still fade when it stops serving its current purpose. I need to keep that in mind on days when I spend hours and hours flipping through photos of Mr. Armitage to critique the fit of his clothes. 🙂


  5. Hi servetus,

    I missed you terrbibly while you were traversing the country and then later continents. I’m glad that you’ve reached your holiday destination and can enjoy yourself. So we thought as much about you when you were gone as you might have about us.

    You, along with the other bloggers I choose to follow, provide a welcome vent in my own Richard obsession. I enjoy your ponderings and analyses and feel that I gain insight into the workings of my own obsession whilst connecting with other fascinating and real people. I think many of us have felt a real joy in discovering like-minded people or in being creative in ways that RL might not give room for. We can delight in discussing topics that our serious Rl selves might find insignificant, but surely it’s all healthy.

    I don’t think I could commit myself to writing a blog at this stage in my life, but I admire those of you who devote time and energy to sharing your thoughts and certain aspects of your lives with us, so I’m with you on this eventful journey, servetus. Let’s wait and see where it takes us!

    PS. How do I activate the smileys on here? I’m so envious of the posters who can use them.


    • I in turn am really grateful for your detailed comments, MillyMe. That in itself is a big time commitment.


  6. MillyMe, here’s the smiley secret info:

    To make this smiley 🙂 post these : ) back to back.
    To make this smiley 😉 post these ; ) together.


  7. […] Servetus, perhaps blogging is not an antidote for RA addiction, which isn’t really a problem in my opinion, but it is a lot of fun. Especially when I can […]


  8. @MillyMe, if you know the text for emoticons, e.g., a colon with a capital D, which makes the big grin smiley, then you can make as many smileys as you want. If there’s another way, I’m not aware of it.


    I missed your thoughts. I love that your thoughts are not my thoughts or anyone else’s. It would be so dull if we were all the same.


  9. Thanks to you all for the Armitagelove — this post reflected my feelings but did perhaps turn out a bit angsty. It was striking to me how different the journaling ended up being than the blog, but I am reassured by your reassurances that I should keep on doing what I have been doing. You are great people.


  10. Your caption for the photo is: John Porter (Richard Armitage) coerces Katie Dartmouth into agreeing that they will get out of their captivity in Strike Back 1.2

    How so? I thought JP convinced her, mesmerised her, anything other than “coerced” her into believing that she will get out. I think this is huge.

    I would like to hear your thoughts on how his strategy was to “coerce” her, which doesn’t sound like much more than bullying. What am I missing here?


    • I admit that I put that caption there to spur this discussion. 🙂

      These scenes between Porter and Dartmouth are some of the most compelling for me in the entire series. And yet. It’s a coercive situation. What reason does she have to trust or believe him? She’s talked with him a little, and heard his promise that he will get her out of there. Then he gets tortured, and she gets beaten bloody/unconscious because he won’t answer their captors’ questions. She’s deposited on the floor, and then gets woken up by someone who frightens her by touching her before speaking to her while she’s (initially) blindfolded, while she’s tied up and he’s not, and he’s got her head between his hands. I think that rationally, she has very little reason to believe solely on the basis of either his words or his actions that far that they are going to get out of there together, but does she really have the option to say, “no, I don’t think we will get through this together”? He forces her to say “yes” in a situation where I think she has no good reason for believing what she is saying. He needs her to say that both for herself (so she will cooperate with him and not question his judgment and in a crisis situation potentially act as if escape were possible, i.e., so that she’s not a dead weight on him during any escape) and for him (so that he has someone else’s ego supporting his own). He doesn’t leave the statement at the previous scene’s assertion that he will get her home, nor does he really ask whether she believes it, but instead asserts that she does believe it and demands her assent. Pretty coercive. Not evil. Just coercive. Like a rhetorical question, it’s a speech strategy that assumes the conclusion in its premises.

      I love this scene, btw. Did I say that? I’ve watched it at least five dozen times now.


  11. Now that my grades are filed and I have some free time I’ve spent a couple of hours looking at this fascinating blog, and little as I want to distress you . . . to be honest, as a fellow academic, I’m a little concerned. It is tremendously easy to get swept up in writing for an on-line community, especially when there is virtually immediate feedback. (Guess how I know? But this will be the longest post I’ll make on the internet this month. There just aren’t enough hours in the day to be me and a virtual me, both.)

    What strikes me is that you post articulate, well written, well thought through, and very extended updates very frequently, and that writing such polished, elaborated posts must take hours and hours of your time. Just typing up the post above would take me quite a while; but doing what a person has to do in order to develop such an interesting post, which involves thinking it through, drafting it, tinkering with it, and proofreading it must take up a significant part of your day. I realize that the most recent posts are unrepresentative in their length, but as I’ve read the blog for the last few months I’ve found myself thinking “Please let her have tenure. Please, please let her already have tenure . . . this could be fatal to tenure or to promotion after tenure . . . it may eat up more hours of her day than she realizes . . . please let her have tenure.” And that was before it occurred to me that you wrote responses to the things people write in.

    Please forgive me for writing like this; it’s out of no desire to rain on the parade, honestly, but a blog like this is tremendously seductive. Writing about fantasies and clothing and the semiotics of Richard Armitage is so much more appealing than spending time on scholarship; an audience of fellow fans who generally admire the writer is so much more appealing than writing with an awareness that a group of professors, some of whom are likely to be old grumps, are going to read your academic articles and book chapters and quite possibly take pleasure in ripping them to bits. But the seduction of writing a blog about something entrancing often draws the author away from what she REALLY ought to be doing, the things that are going to propel her along the life path she’s chosen. Mr. Armitage doesn’t offer you or any of us employment or a hope for the future; without any such real intention on his part, he can be an ignus fatuus. And sadly, being wrapped up for hours a blog tends to leave a writer distracted from what real life, real work, and real people offer.

    The fact that you at times wonder and perhaps almost hope that blogging can reduce your interest in Mr. Armitage also concerns me. It’s not likely to lessen your absorption in him; quite the reverse. That’s like imagining that getting really drunk every few days will talk a person out of alcoholism, or that watching an hour of “North and South” every day will finally get it out of one’s mind, and the chances are even less if you are communicating with lots of other Armitage fans frequently. They’re not going to say “No, no, stop posting!” But that doesn’t mean that continuing to blog is the best professional or personal idea. Please forgive me for writing this, but your blog does worry me a little. It’s splendid, thoughtful, and fascinating; it’s very welcome to other fans; but is it the best thing for YOU, ultimately?


    • I left this comment unanswered yesterday because, as you will know without my affirmation, that of course you hit a number of nails right on the head. Up until now I have been an academic, academia has a rigid reward schedule, and writing this blog lies outside of that. All of the questions you raise thus have direct relevance to me, and I don’t know how to answer them. Though I am uncomfortable saying much about it, I may not be an academic much longer, though, and I think I would feel guilty spending as much time as this takes on anything as ultimately trivial as this subject is. (With no offense meant to Mr. Armitage, who is of key importance to me personally, but who is not ending world hunger or bring world peace. Then again, neither is my research. And that’s been part of the problem for me in the university all along.)

      Thanks for the kind words about the analysis and writing; you are right that it’s nice to be appreciated for one’s insights instead of having them torn to shreds.


    • Oh: and thanks for taking the time to write such a long comment! I know what that costs.

      Congratulations on filing your grades, too. That’s always the most jubilant moment of my semester.


  12. Hope you continue to blog, as the site is always so interesting. Was going to say something facetious, along the lines of “what about your loyal cadre of commenters/bloggers – don’t you owe us”!! Entirely inappropriate. As with RA fans feeling that he owes them/us.

    Just keep going as long it feels right for YOU.

    I don’t worry about my own RAddiction. Every once in a while, a personality (actor, musician, or RL acquaintence etc) emerges, whose charisma simply captivates (more than their fair share of?) a large group. So, RA happens to be our collective addiction.

    Besides, you raise so many topics for exploration, just incorporating Mr. A as the focus/catalyst. 😀


    • Thanks, fitzg. I’ll continue at least for the present, as it’s just too enjoyable to stop!

      Blogging is a weird genre. It’s so dependent on the voice of the blogger and on the blogger continuing to be able to locate that voice. At some point the voice could change, and then there’ll be a question about whether the blog should continue. Even though the author’s voice might change, though, it’s not like writing an article or a book, where you know there is a defined end when the topic is covered or the story comes to an end. I was worried about this so I wrote the last post first; I had a list of criteria for when I knew the content of this blog and/or my need to keep writing it would be over. I’m not there yet. I do worry a lot about the time this takes. But for right now it’s the right decision.


  13. If I promise not to read, will you keep writing?
    A rhetorical question.


  14. Is the obession with the man, the actor, or the characters he portrays? Or all of the above? And why this particular actor? I ask these questions because after five years, I no longer have an answer. I wonder if the Internet is the crack that fuels this particular addiction??? And at what point, is it truly unhealthy?


    • I think I am getting close to an answer about what it is about Richard Armitage that entrances, but I am nowhere near answering the “why him vs. someone else” problem. Maybe because I am not really interested in any other actors, I can’t take the time to analyze why they are uninteresting.

      I do think the internet plays a major role, though, in that it offers a place for the average fan to carry on informed speculation in the presence of other informed fans, and so it keeps the interest alive even at moments when not much is happening that we can consume (since the poor man can’t work all the time).

      I think the commentor below has a good definition of when something becomes unhealthy.


    • Five years?!! And I thought you were the sane one around here. 😉


      • Yep, five years, and these blogs/websites are only fuel for the fire. Me sane? Um, you have the wrong girl. I am far from sane. The good news, is that I will make you all feel waaay more sane. But, do not use me for a sanity bench mark.


        • Five years worries me. I guess if I become homeless as a result of this obsession at least I won’t have regular computer access. 🙂


  15. That’s a great question for any of us who spend time online; IS it truly unhealthy? For plenty of people, no. For plenty of others, yes, and not necessarily just people who get involved in watching porn to the detriment of their relationships. I think that when a person spends a great deal of time online in leisure activities and/or feels kind of embarrassed or furtive about it, chances are good that it’s unhealthy in the time it takes away from RL or unhealthy because at base that person is aware that they’re misusing their time and brainpower, and/or it’s standing in the place of healthy RL relationships that take a time commitment and emotional investment.

    All I’d suggest is keeping track of how many minutes you spend blogging in the course of a week. It can be startling. I don’t think that people who post occasional comments on blogs necessarily have any kind of a realistic idea of just what a chunk of time it takes a blogger who’s literate, intelligent, and a very capable writer to create a post she’s happy to send out into the universe. And you’re all of those things. Yes, carry on blogging if it’s worth your time, the payoff for you is truly big, and it doesn’t get in the way of your research, work, and social life–but not if you feel kind of guilty about it, if you see what I mean. But be aware of the perils of website “addiction.” People can easily distance themselves from reality and lose friends, family members, relationships, and jobs because they spend too much time online. I doubt you’re about to do any of those things in the near future–but things like that slip up on a person; no one sets out to screw up her career by spending time online, but it sometimes happens all the same, and to bright, even brilliant people. That’s a suggestion that you don’t have to respond to, incidentally. I don’t want to badger you; I just worry a bit.


  16. May I suggest that if someone is concerned enough to keep track of the minutes they’re online, they already have a problem.


  17. Guilt is sort of the air I breathe, and I’ve told a fair number of RL friends and colleagues that I am writing this blog. I also discussed its role in my life extensively with my therapist this spring, who came to see it as a potential transitivism of which I was already aware, so that she supported my writing about Mr. Armitage as a means of approaching my own problems. She also felt that since for years I had had no hobbies and few friends beyond those that were connected to work (even my last BF, a relationship that lasted over a decade, was a subfield colleague), it was a positive sign that I had found something of interest that bore no direct relationship to my work.

    Even so, I do often feel trapped between desire to blog and the perception that it is dangerous. The energy that went into the clothing posts surprised and dismayed me a bit. There was a good 10,000 words there and that is the length of a draft of an academic article. I think all of that came in direct proportion to spending so much time with my family of origin, which I find extremely stressful in general and especially so now. The stress seemed to get reflected in the neurotic exploration of detail. And it was no coincidence that I started publishing the stuff about the self in relationship to others during that period, even though I had been thinking about it on and off for quite some time. The time bill for that episode got paid not by my family, but by me in terms of a great deal of lost sleep that I’ve been catching up on since coming to Germany.

    As to the specific internet aspect of the issue: I am online for hours and hours every day, not concentratedly, but my research requires an internet connection. I try to confine the Armitage writing to a discreet period in the evening. I love answering the comments, but obviously that would be the first thing that would have to go if the writing starts to take up more space. I don’t spend much undirected time on the internet; when I get tired of work and tired of Armitage I get off. I may be deluding myself, of course, but if I had a job that didn’t require me to spend so much time at a computer I doubt I’d do so.

    I think that at this point I know I’ll be writing this blog till the end of the summer. We’ll see what happens in the fall when I have to teach again, and when the career conflicts I have that preceded this blog become acute.


  18. Here’s what I’ve figured out about peeling the onion — it goes on forever. So the question is will you let yourself enjoy it?


    • Let me agree, RAFRenzy, and add to that. Peeling the onion goes on forever, but if you do ever make it to the center of the onion, you have nothing but torn-off shreds of onion peel. That’s the big lesson that academic research has taught me.

      So two things:

      1) I’ve forgotten how to enjoy normal things without pangs of guilt, if I ever knew. I started school at age 5 and I’ve been in one ever since, for 36 straight years, and the track of thinking in terms of learning, homework, preparation, obligation, performance, is engraved deeply in my synapses. So one reason to keep writing this blog is the absolute unadulterated pleasure that comes from consuming Mr. Armitage’s product. It’s oppositional and the fact that there is absolutely no professional payoff is one of its charms, albeit an ambivalent one. I enjoy it. Maybe too much. But oh, do I enjoy it. I feel guilty about the writing, maybe, but looking at some of these things sends a spurt of dopamine straight to those pleasure centers. The way my brain works, though, I can’t watch without analyzing, and then I want to talk about it. So the outcome of writing seems directly connected to the act of viewing Armitage. I keep thinking about continuing to watch him obsessively but not writing about it and that doesn’t seem to work.

      2) I don’t want to leave this blog just having torn the onion to pieces. I want to establish a synthetic interpretation of Armitage. That may take awhile, and it may be the sort of creative activity that redeems my mind and its tics from the bondage of academic life. There’s more than one reason redemption is one of the categories for tags here.

      But you are probably right that I can’t “just” enjoy it. As with everything else in my life I am struggling to make it mean something.

      Thanks for your continued willingness to discuss this, RAfrenzy. You’ve really acted above and beyond the last three weeks or so.


  19. I wanted to clarify something, the questions I asked were aimed at myself, as much as anyone. I devoured your clothing essay! So what does that make me?


  20. Your questions and your devouring of the clothing posts make you a reflective, questioning spirit, @Rob, IMO, and those are great traits.

    Dr. S, forgive me for propelling you into disclosing personal things, especially as they are up in the air and settling your course is unlikely to happen immediately, granted the RL demands of scholarship, teaching, and relatives who may be be less than supportive and helpful. Please don’t feel that you need to reveal more; you don’t–not at all. On the other hand, you’ve got a number of admirers and supporters here; perhaps some of them individually might be good people to share with.

    Academia makes people lonely, I think; it’s not that you’re alone all the time–far from it; it’s that academic relationships can be fraught with jealousy and insecurity, and people may have too little time to maintain friendships. I think the latter bit gets worse and worse as the years go by and friend collect partners, children, and aging parents who need help. And it’s not like it was when you were an undergraduate, when attractive potential partners turned up in all your classes every new quarter or semester; there are fewer and fewer attractive people to meet in your own field, and if you don’t spend time outside of academia–and who would have the time for that?–there’s no chance to meet non-academic friends or possible partners. If it happens that life as an academic is just not offering a lot of satisfaction and pleasure, it’s brave of you and sensible of you to explore other possibilities. That takes a lot of courage. I wish you the very best.


  21. And you need not respond to each supportive remark we make individually. (Speaking for myself here, people!) 🙂 If I were to say anything vaguely intelligent, you could simply pick up on it in the content of your discourses.

    This is a mutually interesting site to both commenters and blogger.


  22. I think on some level we are all at the same place, you are provided the content and we are consuming it. So let’s say that we’ve all taken our role as fan to another level.

    Maybe it is as simple as we are trying to grow and nuture those qualities that we so admire in Mr. Armitage in ourselves and as such feel a strong connection to him.

    That being said, the man is just plain gorgeous, so the teen aged girl in me has been triggered. And for that, I thank him, because although, approaching the big 4 -0 is not old, I have long since out grown the silly teenager in me that just wants to say,”He’s sooo hot.”


  23. Maybe we should start RAA (Richard Armitage Annoymous) to help with this addiction? I will start. Hello, my name is @Rob and I have a problem. I am addicted to Richard Armitage. It started out innocently enough with a period drama North & South. Then I visited a few websites, just to find out where I could see more of his work. I knew I had a problem, when I purchased Frozen.

    Before, I knew it, I was complusively checking fan sites and blogs. I tell myself, just one short fan vid, then before I realized it, an hour has slipped by and I have watched several fan vids, leaving my work to just pile up. At one point, my four year old saw Mr. Armitage’s image on my computer screen and asked me, “If I was going to marry him.” I have a problem.

    @Servetus — I fear I am bringing down the IQ points of this blog.


  24. @Rob LOL!!!
    I agree that I probably NEED RAA but as I am still basically functional, I don’t WANT it yet! Who wants to come up with a 12 step program for us RAaholics? Would aversion therapy help? Repeated watchings of the dorktastic dance video? (Somehow I don’t see that working, but I am open to suggestions…


  25. […] Rob and Phylly3 started a discussion that sort of got buried in my last reflection on the potential […]


  26. […] carried on without any real belief that I would thereby be released. Porter in particular, I noticed last summer, seemed like a metaphorical symbol of my own captivity to Armitage and/or Armitagemania. So writing about a fantasy in which I tease John Porter sexually […]


  27. […] pretending you don’t have fantasies won’t work as a means of getting rid of them. Writing about them will also not necessarily help you get rid of them, although it will force you to look at both yourself and your fantasies. Writing may also calm you, […]


  28. […] meant more fully; as my therapist said very shortly after I told her that the blog had been born, I was using Armitage and fantasies about him as a transitive object for exploring matters that I cou…. As a project in integration of self, the blog has borne a heavy burden as I have wrestled here […]


  29. […] talked about aspects of this problem before — why writing about Armitage will not cure the fascination with him — as a function of shame about my crush and of fear of shocking readers. Admitting my […]


  30. ” I have a weird awareness of detail that heavily complicates my perception of anything… Giving in to it is pleasurable, but also leaves me in a troubling state of ambivalence about most things.”

    Madam, you and I are one.


    • I think that might be true — based on what I’ve seen on your blog 🙂 It’s good to have a sister.


  31. […] to write him a letter. I will write him a letter. What the fuck. Now, after all these years of writing as a faulty means of extricating myself even as the described always moves slightly outside …, I’m fully, inextricably caught. Stuck, and I don’t know how I can ever get myself away […]


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