I promise, next up will be an Exciting New Dog Post, or at least a College Post, but I had to get this off of my chest.
.( Cut For OCD Stuff )Also, I never used to hate ships before I got into comics fandom, and I never loathed specific ones (instead of just "I hate all ships that aren't X/Z) until X-Men. I'm not sure what that means. Also, I've never hated a canon ship before X-Men that I can think of. This fascinates and annoys me.
Acupuncture seems to be working! Hurt much less.
Rode again! YAyayayayyayay! I got to ride Case, and he was such a good boy by Case standards! He trotted around corners when asked and did not eat the ponies. So good to see him again- I gave him so many hugs.
When I was small, I used to divide my brain up into lots of little people who ran my personality. Have a sampling of their thoughts on the Avengers cartoon deal.
( Into Lou's Head! )( Into Lou's Head! )
I hope you have all learned something valuable. Now outta my head.
Also, doing schoolwork, blah blah blah. Some kids at school and I might have a LoTR marathon. Tai brought us a portion of squirrel to share.
...I cannot shake the feeling that what I am actually watching is not, in fact, a tumultous, tragic battle of conflicting ideologies, but, rather, The Worst Breakup Ever.
...Like, I mean, I seriously CAN'T.
1. I love my school. Seriously. It is sometimes a bittersweet love (everyone there is JUST as f***ed up as I am!) but it is love.
2. I feel guilty, because a lot of people there have problems like dead relatives and drugs and abuse and are happy and sociable and all I've got is some messed up neurons and I keep hiding under tables.
3. Dear Person On Internet: STFU! Thank you.
4. WHY MUST I READ DEPRESSING FIC?
5. O, THAT IS RIGHT, DC HAS NOTHING FOR ME UNTIL NOVEMBER SO
6. AND THIS WAS A VERY BAD IDEA
7. AND I AM SORRY I EVER DOUBTED YOU, DC FIC, WILL YOU TAKE ME BACK?
8. Shall instead throw my energy into Star Wars! Yay! Fun and nonhurty!
9. Shall stay FAR away from Anakin.
I have been on two dates in my life. Both of them were with the same guy. The scenario went along these lines:
Interfering busibodies: Elizabeth and Boy chat a lot! They both are loners! They both read! Let's not leave them alone until they agree to date each other! We'll make them so happy! WE R SMRT!
Me: *bangs head against wall*
Beginnings of a beautiful friendship: *is ruined*
That being said, I have crushes on guys quite a bit. Mostly of the completely hopeless variety. During the Dark Times, during the High School, that pretty much went kaplooie as my hormones focused on other things such as joining the rest of my brain in going completely insane, but nowadays they appear to be active with a vengeance.
The two major objects of my affection shall be referred to as Cute Comic Book Store Guy and Awesome Guy At School. And it looks like Embarassing Situations is gearing up to make up for the lost years. I made an actually Freudian slip in front of Guy At School. I didn't realize people really made those. I swear I actually blushed.
And, of course, in December I will have to walk up to Cute Comic Guy and purchase this (http://dcu.blog.dccomics.com/files/2009/
So, yeah. Love life is at a high it has not approached in years!
So, please, if I'm ever nice enough to let you borrow my iPod charger again DO NOT LEAVE IT IN YOUR SUITCASE WITH
Yeah. I'm not doing so hot today.
Because yeah, I was bleeping stressed. I've made a lot of progress this year- I've got friends- with an s on the end! Multiple friends!- I had a birthday party, I got over 200 reviews on Crashing in Time, I finished about a tenth of NaNoWriMo and I finally began to figure out foreshortening in my art- but a large part of my mind still firmly believes that if I fail a school class, I could find the Holy Grail and it still wouldn't be enough to <s>not disappoint my father</s> have a non wasted year. If I couldn't pass a class, I might as well be back in Hellhole On Earth Senior High.
But I am not. I am at Run By Angels On This Green Earth BEST SCHOOL EVER, and according to my math teacher who is INCREDIBLE and PATIENT and has the FORGIVENESS OF A SAINT, I have done enough work to pass.
I am seriously jumping for joy. Well, actually, I am writing an essay for Honors Genocide And Human Nature (yes I AM, mom, don't worry...), but that is now my ONLY class besides Medieval History (which is online) that I still have huge amounts of work in. And not actually that huge. They seemed huge this morning, but that was before I did most of them.
In other news: Dear Section of My Brain That I Do Not Control, I do not know what possessed you to think that licking the fern would solve all of my problems. The timing was coincidental. And it did not taste very good, either.
Thank you, Ms DeLong! Thank you, mom and daddy! Thank you, Jesus!
I wrote a MST.
Confound it all, I broke down and wrote a MST.
I'm not sure what to do with it. I just knew that by golly that story with that Mary Sue annoyed me, and I wanted to rip into it, and so I did.
The MST is not here, by the way. It's in a flash drive in my bookbag until I figure out what in the world I'm going to do with it. Because, quite honestly, well, there was a period where if someone had taken my writing (a lot of which seriously deserved it) and ripped it into shreds and shared it with the internet, I would've gone nuts and had a crying jag and probably failed several tests. I recognize, at this point in my life, there were things wrong with me, even more than there are now, and not everyone acts that way, and most people are mature enough to respond to something like that in a less self destructive way.
But the fact remains that I have a MST and no clue what to do with it other than... well, write more. On the plus side, it was very nice to vent.
(I'm just saying that maybe Not Having Friends was much easier because I didn't have to worry that I was being all clingy and Doing Everything Wrong and the only problems I had to worry about were mine.)
But enough of that.
In an attempt to get my mind onto a somewhat less depressing topic, I shall now babble on about some more of my family's pets- the guinea pigs, Teddy and George.
Our first guinea pig was named Spot. He was black and white and very friendly, and lived in a large cage in my little brother's room, which he enjoyed running around in when he wasn't playing outside, eating, or sleeping. I had been very skeptical of the idea of a guinea pig at the time- I suspected it would be like the class hampsters from school, spending all of its time as a sleeping lump of fur.
But Spot had personality. He eventually won me over when he learned to "wheek" at the top of his lungs whenever he heard the refridgerator open- hopefully, it was Carrot Time!
Spot died a few years ago, and was missed. Eventually, we decided that we did not have enough small furry things in our house, and so ended up with two more, Teddy and George. We're fairly sure that they're brothers, as they look almost identical and actually get along. They, too, have learned that an opening refridgerator could signal carrots.
(I really have no idea what to say. I haven't been in a real social situation comfortably for years and I don't think that people want to talk to me so when they do I say nothing because if I say anything I'm being pushy and overstepping boundaries and so no one talked to me anymore because I didn't start conversations and now that people are trying again I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO."
So I talk about my pets.
This really wasn't supposed to be an Angst Post. That tag is too big.)
I just finished a short report on Midieval castles and cathedrals (and managed to shoehorn Elizabeth I and Robert Dudley in even if they weren't quite midieval), and soon I shall leave for therapy, after which- THE BEACH!
Also, the Easter Bunny should be bringing me my season of JLI come Sunday, so that'll be good. Yesterday I shopped for Easter dresses, with interesting results.
There were the typical number of "your father will never let you out of the house in that" choices, all of which I inevitably liked and which inevitably looked nice on me, but which my mom inevitably commanded me to return to the hangers. The one I finally chose is purple and black and white, and twirly. It also has a HAT. I love my HAT. I am writing of the HAT in capital letters because I... I really have no clue why. I just am.
I scare myself when I'm happy.
Anyway, I also tried on the Most Definitely Not An Easter Dress. It was short, and black, and fringe covered. I felt like I was looking at a version of myself from a parallel reality. Because of course I was. In that dress, I am fairly sure that if i went to a club or a party with the people at my school, I would be described in their peculiar vernacular as "hotass" and I'd dance and maybe I'd actually get a guy.
But if I went to a party or a club I'd end up in a fetal position with my face to a corner willing all the people to please go away. And the dress was not designed for that.
So I shall wear my twirly Easter dress, and the HAT, and the Bikini Designed Only For Practical Purposes if it's actually warm enough to swim, and I'll sit on the magical little corner of my bed that features wireless.
But hey- we're going to the beach! To Holden, more specifically, which is beautiful and perfect and has egrets and deer and sea turtles. I can eat deviled crab and key lime pie, and sing about how Christ is Risen Today at the little church.
I don't really want to ask for more.
Note: I keep coughing while writing, and as a result I cannot spell today. Please forgive me- I will try to catch my errors.
I have a deep, dark secret. And it is this: there is a large part of my brain that is not satisfied being the school outcast/nerd. There is a large part of my brain that still wants to wear Hollister and Hot Topic, have a large group of friends who I can laugh with, date a hot football player- be accepted.
I became a nerd as a last resort.
And, now, honestly, I love it. I've found the freedom in not caring what people think about me, of reading Star Wars tie in novels while everyone else talks Gossip Girl, of being able to do whatever I want because I no longer have a reputation to damage.
And so, I generally manage to convince myself that I don't need the acceptance of others.
But then things like today happen. I was surfing way back in the ffrants archive, and discovered someone saying that a series of fics I like were too fluffy.
And I immediate began to be filled with worry.
Was I no longer a true fan if I liked those stories? Was i not cynical enough? Was I not sitting with the cool kids?
Now, admittedly, overdramatic fluff in fics tends to bug me as does little else besides Vader turning into Hayden Christiansen for no reason, authors who put on their profile that they don't accept criticism, or a purple haired lovebender seducing Zuko, preobably because I'm somewhat guilty of it at times myself. But I didn't find the fics in question too fluffy. There was fluff, yeah, but there was a lot of character developement leading up to that fluff to get the characters where they'd be realistic.
Or what about Twilight? Do I only hate it because the cool kids do? Is that worse than only liking it because the cool kids do? (No, I hate it because IT WILL NOT LET ME HATE IT
Basically, am I now as focused on being a cynical internet nerd as much as I once was on being popular?
Twilight makes me feel bubbly against my will.
I listen to angsty teenage music in all seriousness.
I liked the prequel trilogy.
Also Mara Jade.
I write Mary Sues. I don't share 'em, but I still write 'em.
(I swear, being sick has left me with nothing to write about than what I think. Hopefully this will be better soon.)
It's not that I want to be mean, per se. I dealt with enough people who never even considered the feelings of others for far too long. But surely not everyone is as hyper sensitive as I am?
Maybe, just maybe, I could manage to tell someone that "your fic makes my eyes bleed" or "please shut up about that teacher you hate already, I want to talk about my life now" or even "no, I'm not sorry?"
Because I can't do that. Because there is a little factor in my brain that completely shuts down when I try to be not nice, with the result that people get two impressions of me:
"She never talks, does she?"
Or, when i snap as I do occasionally,
"Oh, Lord, I'm just going to run away now."
This is not a healthy state of being. Surely I can bring myself to realize that harsh words won't completely destroy someone's life. Just because I once came close to tears when someone (justifiably) insulted my writing awhile back doesn't mean that everyone else is that emotionally immature.
So yah know what?
YOU CAN'T SPELL YOUR OWN NAME. WHY WOULD I WANT TO WORK WITH YOU?
MAYBE I'M NOT PERFECT AT DOING EVERYTHING TO YOUR
YOUR KINK IS NOT OKAY.
I AM NOT SOME LITTLE AMUSING GAME YOU
YOU REALLY SHOULDN'T INSULT MY FRIENDS LOOKS WHEN YOUR ENTIRE FACE IS BASICALLY A GIANT PIMPLE.
Now, all of those were immature. I am, in fact, going to apologize now for saying them if you were offended. And I certainly don't want to shout them at everyone constantly.
But I'd like to be able to say them sometimes. Like when you deserve it.