WiP: Donna POV
Sep. 12th, 2003 12:06 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
out_thereHmmm... Well, this is a story that I started way back in February and have just left sitting. (It's the one that was meant to be Sam/Josh, but was pretending to be Josh/Donna. *g*) I'm trying to work out whether it's worth salvaging or better left to rot.
Basically, it was written when I had no idea of how Sam canonically left the show (we hadn't even started S4 over here) but it's actually not as AU as it seems. A couple of sentences here and there and it would kinda/almost fit most of S4. (Mind you, I still haven't seen all of S4, so I could be wrong.)
Unfortunately, I know that most of it is a direct emotional reaction of a Sam fan, so... It makes me question how good it is and if it's worth finishing. All the same, typing it up did make me remember why I was fond of it...
What do you guys think? Promising? Or better to write it off as an experiment?
***
Donna knows that Josh likes her. Not just in the 'thank god you're my capable assistant and can deal with this for me' way. It's more of a 'if I wasn't your boss' and 'if we were in a bar somewhere' kind of way.
It's not a big thing. On the level of things that they handle daily, it's just a small thrill (or annoyance, depending on her mood), that makes up part of the background of her job.
She wouldn't act on it. Sure, Josh can be cute, and charming (arrogant, but charming), but she isn't really tempted. It's just a nice thought that even when she's come into the office as early as Josh, even when she's stayed back late, even when they work their way through the night and still has to come in the next day (feeling as if death would be a mercy), there's still someone who finds her desirable. She may feel flighty and out of control, or efficient and powerful, throwing her weight around, but there's still someone who wants her regardless.
It doesn't need to be the kind of passion where you'd sell your soul for the person. It's just that it reminds her that there's more to her than her job. She loves this job, loves being in the centre of the action, loves knowing that she's damn good at what she does, but she doesn't want it to be her entire life.
***
It comes as a shock when Josh actually asks her out. Asks her for dinner and drinks, as if she was any blonde he'd met in a bar. It offends her slightly that he forgets that she's a person he knows well, that he suddenly treats her as another woman to bed using a quick flash of dimples and that good old Lyman charm.
But she's curious too. It's like a train wreck: you shouldn't look but you can't help wanting to know how bad it could possibly be.
She hasn't been on a date in months and she can't help thinking that she could do with the practice. So she says yes and tries not to feel like she's just getting Amy's leftovers.
***
She feels a little strange getting ready that night. It's scary how easily she's slipped into the pattern of getting early nights when she can, of retreating to her bed with snacks and the television. It takes her a while to work out what to wear, but the hair and makeup come easier to her. She only forgets for a second why she can't wear the caramel pumps that make her calves look incredible (they're impossible to stand in for over twenty minutes), before she reaches for the black ones.
The meal is good. Classy restaurant, not too intimate and not too busy. Their conversation swiftly falls into the quick banter that comes easily to them. Neither of them drink too much, and the evening ends at an hour that's only just this side of decent.
Josh drives her home, and kisses her goodnight. He doesn't push for more, and she doesn't ask him up.
***
The next time they go out to a movie and it's one more thing to talk about and quibble over.
The time after that they go to a little Italian place that serves great pizza. They talk about anything and everything, as long as it isn't too personal or too political.
It (this thing between them) falls into an easy rhythm. They work together and go out on a Friday, or a Saturday, if work commitments allow. They keep it quiet from everyone, because really, it's none of their business. And the less people they tell, the less likely they'll see it in the papers.
They don't sleep together, but the kisses are nice, and it's another reminder that there is life beyond the White House (even if it is all mixed up in the White House anyway). Sometimes, she thinks it's more of a friendship than anything else, and that doesn't seem so bad.
***
Donna waits for Josh to end it. She's not a fool. She knows that they aren't going anywhere. If anything, they're both just treading water, keeping themselves busy until something better comes along.
She's surprised that he doesn't finish it.
***
Eventually, she works out what's important to Josh by what he doesn't talk about. He can talk about using dirty politics but won't mention the vote that he left too late and did too little to change. He'll mention his mom, but won't talk about his father. He'll talk about Mandy and Amy, but ignores the fact that he was shot.
She finds herself following his example, playing by these self-imposed rules. She doesn't tell him that she really like Cliff, and that as a result, there were a few weeks when she really hated her job. She doesn't tell him how glad she was every time he rode in on a white charger to save her, or how disappointed she is that this, whatever it is between them, couldn't have meant more. And she doesn't mention Sam, because Josh doesn't either.
She doesn't say that she never expected to miss Sam this much. She never says that she walks past his office a couple times a day, and sometimes it just doesn't feel right without him in it. She likes Will, she really does, but it's not the same. Josh just acts as if everything is fine, and she wonders if he notices that the others miss Sam, that Toby comes into his office or CJ's far more frequently, looking for a second opinion that isn't there. If Josh hears that moment of silence when they all discuss an idea, that split second where they still expect Sam to interrupt, to act as the conscience for the entire administration, to be heard and dismissed. They all miss him, they just won't admit it.
And she only admits it to herself. She knows that she misses Sam, but there are enough day to day dramas to distract her. So when Sam calls her up out of the blue (on a Sunday) and invites her to lunch, she finds herself grinning and scribbling down a restaurant address.
***
When she sees him, Sam looks great. Big smile, eyes twinkling, and she can't help commenting on the new and improved tan. She remembers the ever-present tan from the first time she met him. Her first impression was of a model straight out of GQ, the ones that try to convince men that you can earn over $100,000 a year and still have time to party as if you were a junior in college. Then Sam had start to talk, and tripped over his own feet, and she had to revise her opinion of him.
"I've been sailing. That's where the tan's from."
Even though it's Sunday, there's a part of her that expected him to be in a suit. It's just and ingrained habit. Instead, he's wearing jeans and a sweatshirt rolled up to his elbows. It makes her think that he's not that much younger than Josh, but Josh looks far too old. "I didn't know you still did that."
"Sailing?" She nods and Sam leads them to a table. "Yeah, I just… ran out of time for it, I guess." He pauses to pick up a menu from the table, then looks up at her. "Only twenty-four hours in a day, that kind of thing."
"Yeah."
And this is where it should get awkward, but instead, Sam's asking what she wants to order and is dithering between the chicken and the seafood.
"I'd go with the chicken, Sam. You can't go wrong with chicken."
Sam looks sceptically at her and points out, "You could overcook it, or you could undercook it, and the idea of raw chicken…"
"Is more appetising than the idea of raw fish."
"Except for sushi."
She smiles. "Are you ordering sushi?"
"No," Sam says and looks slightly chagrined. "Chicken it is."
They order, and she asks about Sam's new job. He tells her about it, about the big picture, about what they do, and smiles when he tell her just what he's doing. She tries to remember the last time he looked so proud, or so pleased, when talking about his job. She thinks it must be at least a year since he talked about the White House like that.
He asks how her life's going and she talks about it. Because Sam's been there, he knows what it's like. He knows how CJ can fake it to the press and that senators should be wary when Toby's out for blood. It's only when Sam doesn't know about the thing with Hindmarsh that she realises that he's been there but he's not in the midst of it anymore. It's a strange thing to suddenly realise, even though she's known it all along. From the fond smile, that doesn't bother him as much as she though it would.
The food arrives and he asks her about her life again. "So what about the rest of your life? You know, family, friends? The stuff we don't get paid for?"
The question takes her by surprise. What surprises her is that he had to ask, that she probably wouldn't have mentioned it. Then Sam leans over the table, and conspiratorially stage-whispers, "Special friends?" It's the way he wiggles his eyebrows as he says it that makes her burst into laughter.
Hold up three finders, she says, "The family's well. I saw them last Thanksgiving. We had a big family gathering. I'd forgotten I had so many cousins."
She lowers one finger, has a mouthful of salad and then continues, "Well, the friends that I don't work with… Actually, I haven't seen them in a while. I meant to get together with them weeks ago but it's been a bit busy." Another finger goes down.
Sam nods, picking at his chicken. "Yeah, it can get a bit hectic. And…?" he prompts.
"And…" She lowers the last finger,, and spears a tomato with her fork, tyring to work out what to say, how to say it.
"Hey, you weren't finished with that point," Sam says, looking pointedly at her hand.
"My mother taught me it was rude to point, Sam Seaborn."
"Oh, okay. Go on." He smiles at her remark, and gestures for her to continue.
I'm seeing someone." She's hedging around the question and she knows it.
Sam watches her, then turns his attention back to his plate. "What's he like?"
"He's nice. I mean, he can be a bit of jerk sometimes, but he's nice to me." She stares at her salad, picking the lettuce apart, peeling the layers of leaves back to find the remaining bits of tomato. "It's just this regular, weekly thing. It's not… It's not really serious." She's not sure what else to say, so she lets the conversation trail off.
Sam shrugs, and doesn't push her. "Not every relationship has to be the love of a lifetime. If they were, every break up would be way too hard."
"Yeah, but…" I knew it wasn't going to be real, she wants to say. I wanted it to be, but it isn't. Sam's brows are lowered and he's picking at his potatoes with intense concentration. For some reason, that's what reassures her. "I know it's never going to be anything and there's no real reason to keep seeing him. I just don't want to be the one to break it off."
There's a moment where he looks up and doesn't say anything. And it's just Sam. Sam who's listened to her talk before but never tried to criticize Josh to her, even when Josh deserved it. Who's never lost patience with her and the inane facts that stick in her mind, who frequently had inane facts of his own to offer and discuss.
It's Sam, who isn't judging her, and never really has. "Well, he's not in love with you, right?"
She snorts in disbelief of the very idea. "Nope. He won't admit it, but he doesn't." She wonders if she's being unfair to Josh. "He cares about me, just not…"
"Not in the right way?" She nods but doesn't want to say anything. She's wondering what Sam's thinking.
"Then you're not doing anyone any harm. You're not being dishonest to him, you're just enjoying his company. Nothing wrong with that."
"You think?" For some reason, that cheers her up immensely. She smiles as she pushes away her plate and decides that she's finished.
"Yeah." Sam sounds as if he believes it, and that's good enough for her. "Just make sure that you don't get confused. Don't let yourself believe that it's the real thing just because it's easy and convenient. Don't settle for something less, just because you can."
She reaches over for her juice and watches Sam, but he's looking out the window at a couple sitting outside. They're dressed for the warm weather, and the guy leans over to feed her a strawberry. Donna can't remember if she's ever been that obviously in love with someone.
"Don't settle. I did it with Lisa. It's why we never would have worked. I was with someone I didn't really love, in a job I didn't love, and doing it because it was easy. People expected it of me, and I could achieve these things without really trying, without risking myself. It's simple and it's safe, but you have to take the risk. You have to take the chance that it won't work, that you'll walk away hurt and disheartened, because if you don't, there's no point. The victories are hollow. The defeats don't mean anything but the successes don't make you happy either."
That's probably the most that he's told her about Lisa. Sam doesn't talk about New York much. He talks about the campaign, he talks about working as a congressional aide in college, he talks about his family and growing up, but he doesn't talk much about Lisa. She realises that it's not because he doesn't want people to know about it, it's just that he wasn't very happy. "You really believe that one true love is out there? That it's not just something made up by romance novels and women's magazines?"
Sam laughs, and finishes the last mouthful of his potatoes. "It's there. It's just that most people aren't lucky enough to have it. They don't take the challenge and they won't risk the pain, so they never find it. But I know it's there."
That's the thought that stays in her mind, even as she offers to split the bill and he refuses, even as they gather their things and leave the place, even as he offers her a ride and she decides to walk for a bit. As she turns the key in her lock and opens her front door, the idea is still in her mind, bouncing back and forth over conversations she's had with Josh, making her wonder if she believes it.
Basically, it was written when I had no idea of how Sam canonically left the show (we hadn't even started S4 over here) but it's actually not as AU as it seems. A couple of sentences here and there and it would kinda/almost fit most of S4. (Mind you, I still haven't seen all of S4, so I could be wrong.)
Unfortunately, I know that most of it is a direct emotional reaction of a Sam fan, so... It makes me question how good it is and if it's worth finishing. All the same, typing it up did make me remember why I was fond of it...
What do you guys think? Promising? Or better to write it off as an experiment?
***
Donna knows that Josh likes her. Not just in the 'thank god you're my capable assistant and can deal with this for me' way. It's more of a 'if I wasn't your boss' and 'if we were in a bar somewhere' kind of way.
It's not a big thing. On the level of things that they handle daily, it's just a small thrill (or annoyance, depending on her mood), that makes up part of the background of her job.
She wouldn't act on it. Sure, Josh can be cute, and charming (arrogant, but charming), but she isn't really tempted. It's just a nice thought that even when she's come into the office as early as Josh, even when she's stayed back late, even when they work their way through the night and still has to come in the next day (feeling as if death would be a mercy), there's still someone who finds her desirable. She may feel flighty and out of control, or efficient and powerful, throwing her weight around, but there's still someone who wants her regardless.
It doesn't need to be the kind of passion where you'd sell your soul for the person. It's just that it reminds her that there's more to her than her job. She loves this job, loves being in the centre of the action, loves knowing that she's damn good at what she does, but she doesn't want it to be her entire life.
***
It comes as a shock when Josh actually asks her out. Asks her for dinner and drinks, as if she was any blonde he'd met in a bar. It offends her slightly that he forgets that she's a person he knows well, that he suddenly treats her as another woman to bed using a quick flash of dimples and that good old Lyman charm.
But she's curious too. It's like a train wreck: you shouldn't look but you can't help wanting to know how bad it could possibly be.
She hasn't been on a date in months and she can't help thinking that she could do with the practice. So she says yes and tries not to feel like she's just getting Amy's leftovers.
***
She feels a little strange getting ready that night. It's scary how easily she's slipped into the pattern of getting early nights when she can, of retreating to her bed with snacks and the television. It takes her a while to work out what to wear, but the hair and makeup come easier to her. She only forgets for a second why she can't wear the caramel pumps that make her calves look incredible (they're impossible to stand in for over twenty minutes), before she reaches for the black ones.
The meal is good. Classy restaurant, not too intimate and not too busy. Their conversation swiftly falls into the quick banter that comes easily to them. Neither of them drink too much, and the evening ends at an hour that's only just this side of decent.
Josh drives her home, and kisses her goodnight. He doesn't push for more, and she doesn't ask him up.
***
The next time they go out to a movie and it's one more thing to talk about and quibble over.
The time after that they go to a little Italian place that serves great pizza. They talk about anything and everything, as long as it isn't too personal or too political.
It (this thing between them) falls into an easy rhythm. They work together and go out on a Friday, or a Saturday, if work commitments allow. They keep it quiet from everyone, because really, it's none of their business. And the less people they tell, the less likely they'll see it in the papers.
They don't sleep together, but the kisses are nice, and it's another reminder that there is life beyond the White House (even if it is all mixed up in the White House anyway). Sometimes, she thinks it's more of a friendship than anything else, and that doesn't seem so bad.
***
Donna waits for Josh to end it. She's not a fool. She knows that they aren't going anywhere. If anything, they're both just treading water, keeping themselves busy until something better comes along.
She's surprised that he doesn't finish it.
***
Eventually, she works out what's important to Josh by what he doesn't talk about. He can talk about using dirty politics but won't mention the vote that he left too late and did too little to change. He'll mention his mom, but won't talk about his father. He'll talk about Mandy and Amy, but ignores the fact that he was shot.
She finds herself following his example, playing by these self-imposed rules. She doesn't tell him that she really like Cliff, and that as a result, there were a few weeks when she really hated her job. She doesn't tell him how glad she was every time he rode in on a white charger to save her, or how disappointed she is that this, whatever it is between them, couldn't have meant more. And she doesn't mention Sam, because Josh doesn't either.
She doesn't say that she never expected to miss Sam this much. She never says that she walks past his office a couple times a day, and sometimes it just doesn't feel right without him in it. She likes Will, she really does, but it's not the same. Josh just acts as if everything is fine, and she wonders if he notices that the others miss Sam, that Toby comes into his office or CJ's far more frequently, looking for a second opinion that isn't there. If Josh hears that moment of silence when they all discuss an idea, that split second where they still expect Sam to interrupt, to act as the conscience for the entire administration, to be heard and dismissed. They all miss him, they just won't admit it.
And she only admits it to herself. She knows that she misses Sam, but there are enough day to day dramas to distract her. So when Sam calls her up out of the blue (on a Sunday) and invites her to lunch, she finds herself grinning and scribbling down a restaurant address.
***
When she sees him, Sam looks great. Big smile, eyes twinkling, and she can't help commenting on the new and improved tan. She remembers the ever-present tan from the first time she met him. Her first impression was of a model straight out of GQ, the ones that try to convince men that you can earn over $100,000 a year and still have time to party as if you were a junior in college. Then Sam had start to talk, and tripped over his own feet, and she had to revise her opinion of him.
"I've been sailing. That's where the tan's from."
Even though it's Sunday, there's a part of her that expected him to be in a suit. It's just and ingrained habit. Instead, he's wearing jeans and a sweatshirt rolled up to his elbows. It makes her think that he's not that much younger than Josh, but Josh looks far too old. "I didn't know you still did that."
"Sailing?" She nods and Sam leads them to a table. "Yeah, I just… ran out of time for it, I guess." He pauses to pick up a menu from the table, then looks up at her. "Only twenty-four hours in a day, that kind of thing."
"Yeah."
And this is where it should get awkward, but instead, Sam's asking what she wants to order and is dithering between the chicken and the seafood.
"I'd go with the chicken, Sam. You can't go wrong with chicken."
Sam looks sceptically at her and points out, "You could overcook it, or you could undercook it, and the idea of raw chicken…"
"Is more appetising than the idea of raw fish."
"Except for sushi."
She smiles. "Are you ordering sushi?"
"No," Sam says and looks slightly chagrined. "Chicken it is."
They order, and she asks about Sam's new job. He tells her about it, about the big picture, about what they do, and smiles when he tell her just what he's doing. She tries to remember the last time he looked so proud, or so pleased, when talking about his job. She thinks it must be at least a year since he talked about the White House like that.
He asks how her life's going and she talks about it. Because Sam's been there, he knows what it's like. He knows how CJ can fake it to the press and that senators should be wary when Toby's out for blood. It's only when Sam doesn't know about the thing with Hindmarsh that she realises that he's been there but he's not in the midst of it anymore. It's a strange thing to suddenly realise, even though she's known it all along. From the fond smile, that doesn't bother him as much as she though it would.
The food arrives and he asks her about her life again. "So what about the rest of your life? You know, family, friends? The stuff we don't get paid for?"
The question takes her by surprise. What surprises her is that he had to ask, that she probably wouldn't have mentioned it. Then Sam leans over the table, and conspiratorially stage-whispers, "Special friends?" It's the way he wiggles his eyebrows as he says it that makes her burst into laughter.
Hold up three finders, she says, "The family's well. I saw them last Thanksgiving. We had a big family gathering. I'd forgotten I had so many cousins."
She lowers one finger, has a mouthful of salad and then continues, "Well, the friends that I don't work with… Actually, I haven't seen them in a while. I meant to get together with them weeks ago but it's been a bit busy." Another finger goes down.
Sam nods, picking at his chicken. "Yeah, it can get a bit hectic. And…?" he prompts.
"And…" She lowers the last finger,, and spears a tomato with her fork, tyring to work out what to say, how to say it.
"Hey, you weren't finished with that point," Sam says, looking pointedly at her hand.
"My mother taught me it was rude to point, Sam Seaborn."
"Oh, okay. Go on." He smiles at her remark, and gestures for her to continue.
I'm seeing someone." She's hedging around the question and she knows it.
Sam watches her, then turns his attention back to his plate. "What's he like?"
"He's nice. I mean, he can be a bit of jerk sometimes, but he's nice to me." She stares at her salad, picking the lettuce apart, peeling the layers of leaves back to find the remaining bits of tomato. "It's just this regular, weekly thing. It's not… It's not really serious." She's not sure what else to say, so she lets the conversation trail off.
Sam shrugs, and doesn't push her. "Not every relationship has to be the love of a lifetime. If they were, every break up would be way too hard."
"Yeah, but…" I knew it wasn't going to be real, she wants to say. I wanted it to be, but it isn't. Sam's brows are lowered and he's picking at his potatoes with intense concentration. For some reason, that's what reassures her. "I know it's never going to be anything and there's no real reason to keep seeing him. I just don't want to be the one to break it off."
There's a moment where he looks up and doesn't say anything. And it's just Sam. Sam who's listened to her talk before but never tried to criticize Josh to her, even when Josh deserved it. Who's never lost patience with her and the inane facts that stick in her mind, who frequently had inane facts of his own to offer and discuss.
It's Sam, who isn't judging her, and never really has. "Well, he's not in love with you, right?"
She snorts in disbelief of the very idea. "Nope. He won't admit it, but he doesn't." She wonders if she's being unfair to Josh. "He cares about me, just not…"
"Not in the right way?" She nods but doesn't want to say anything. She's wondering what Sam's thinking.
"Then you're not doing anyone any harm. You're not being dishonest to him, you're just enjoying his company. Nothing wrong with that."
"You think?" For some reason, that cheers her up immensely. She smiles as she pushes away her plate and decides that she's finished.
"Yeah." Sam sounds as if he believes it, and that's good enough for her. "Just make sure that you don't get confused. Don't let yourself believe that it's the real thing just because it's easy and convenient. Don't settle for something less, just because you can."
She reaches over for her juice and watches Sam, but he's looking out the window at a couple sitting outside. They're dressed for the warm weather, and the guy leans over to feed her a strawberry. Donna can't remember if she's ever been that obviously in love with someone.
"Don't settle. I did it with Lisa. It's why we never would have worked. I was with someone I didn't really love, in a job I didn't love, and doing it because it was easy. People expected it of me, and I could achieve these things without really trying, without risking myself. It's simple and it's safe, but you have to take the risk. You have to take the chance that it won't work, that you'll walk away hurt and disheartened, because if you don't, there's no point. The victories are hollow. The defeats don't mean anything but the successes don't make you happy either."
That's probably the most that he's told her about Lisa. Sam doesn't talk about New York much. He talks about the campaign, he talks about working as a congressional aide in college, he talks about his family and growing up, but he doesn't talk much about Lisa. She realises that it's not because he doesn't want people to know about it, it's just that he wasn't very happy. "You really believe that one true love is out there? That it's not just something made up by romance novels and women's magazines?"
Sam laughs, and finishes the last mouthful of his potatoes. "It's there. It's just that most people aren't lucky enough to have it. They don't take the challenge and they won't risk the pain, so they never find it. But I know it's there."
That's the thought that stays in her mind, even as she offers to split the bill and he refuses, even as they gather their things and leave the place, even as he offers her a ride and she decides to walk for a bit. As she turns the key in her lock and opens her front door, the idea is still in her mind, bouncing back and forth over conversations she's had with Josh, making her wonder if she believes it.
please continue
Date: 2004-09-03 08:03 pm (UTC)I think this story has lots of potential. I'd love if you continued it. I'm already hooked. :)
Re: please continue
Date: 2004-09-05 11:49 pm (UTC)I have got a little more of this story done... I wanted to finish it for
Re: please continue
Date: 2005-01-19 11:59 pm (UTC)Re: please continue
Date: 2005-01-20 05:48 pm (UTC)Ah, it's this one.
I haven't posted any updates, but I'm currently behind on WW (although, really, I should probably get something done because it's never quite going to agree with future-canon). I'll try to get something done on it by the end of February (and I'll drop a comment in here to let you know where the update is).
Re: please continue
Date: 2005-01-20 06:29 pm (UTC)I'm new to LJ and am trying to figure it all out. I just thought I would stop lurking and actually let people know who was the random anonymous replying to them, so I created an account.
I used to read your journal all the time and went into a little withdrawal when you stopped posting all the time. Funny how you can miss someone you don't really know.
Anyway, good luck writting. I'm looking forward to reading more stories. BTW, how's it goign with Danny In Therapy fic? Any updates soon?
Re: please continue
Date: 2005-01-20 06:58 pm (UTC)Heh, it is strange, but you do miss them. And, I didn't stop posting, I just went Friends-locked. there was a whole real life thing, and having it public felt a bit too vulnerable. So these days, I post fic publically, and all other ramblings are f-locked. (Since you have an LJ, I'll add you to my f-list. It's not that I'm worried about other LJers reading my LJ, it's just the general non-fannish public.)
BTW, how's it goign with Danny In Therapy fic?
It's sitting and formulating. I'm up to writing danny/Casey smut (or almost-smut) but I've been a bit stuck for the last month or so. It'll come, it just needs time.
Re: please continue
Date: 2005-01-21 02:34 am (UTC)By the way, I'm not sure if I mentioned this before, but I loved the way you approached Danny telling Abby. To me you have their voices down pat. Your Abby kicks ass. :)
Thanks for friending me. I feel so special. I'm gonna go and do a happy twirl now.
Re: please continue
Date: 2005-01-21 01:41 pm (UTC)Thank you. I love the fact that real-Abby, despite her questionable professionalism, knows how to get through to Dan.
As for the friending thing, basically it serves two purposes:
1) Adding friends allows you to read all the LJs you like to read on one page (your Friends page). It's the easiest way to keep up on a lot of journals at the same time.
2) You can screen who sees your journal to everyone, or all your listed friends, or just some of your friends (set up through filters).
You don't have to read all the journals on your friends list. Likewise, you don't have to make your posts visible to everyone on your friends list. so the whole term "friends" is a bit... unspecific, but that's how the system was set up.