it's a magical world

Man, nothing improves a good Doctor/Rose fic. Except, of course, the judicious inclusion of Jack at the end there. It's kind of odd how attached I am -- and most of fandom is, it seems -- to the halcyon days when the Doctor, Rose, and Jack were traveling together, given that it only actually lasted for a handful of episodes. Good times, though. I know Martha and Donna are supposed to be awesome Companions, and I'm sure I'll love them when I get that far in the show, but I've actually been resisting watching new episodes for the past week because I want to relish Rose's presence for as long as it lasts. And reading MASSIVE AMOUNTS OF FIC in the process. And also, I miss Jack (I know he'll come back, but not in the same way, and I want to get through all there is of DW before starting in on Torchwood, which, I gather, is extremely fandom-friendly but not actually all that great of a show). And Nine, though as I suspected, Ten is growing on me rapidly.

Okay, fair warning: rambling ahead.

I love falling in love with new fandoms. I'm starting to realize that fandom love is just as important, if not more so, than romantic love in my life. Actually, I respond to both in much the same way, but I fall head over heels for fandoms far more easily than people. Trust issues, I think -- it's not like I have to worry about whether or not a fandom will love me back, y'know? And being in love with a fandom makes me far happier than any romantic partner has ever made me -- which I suppose means there's something rather wrong with me, but given the state of my love life these days, I can't say I mind.

One thing I've come to understand, though -- I could never be with someone who didn't understand and accept my fannishness. I'm sick of trying to downplay my geekiness to make myself more attractive to people. I was on a date with a guy last weekend, and when he asked what I'd been doing lately and I mentioned offhand, "oh, I watched a couple of episodes of Doctor Who last night," he went off into a disbelieving rant about how bad that show was, how stupid, why was I wasting my time with stuff like that? That sort of thing. I don't mind a bit of good-natured teasing about my dorkiness -- actually, I love teasing, and I give as good as I get -- but he made me feel ashamed of being fannish. And why the fuck should I be ashamed about something that gives me pure, unadulterated delight, that makes me happy? It's not like I'm completely lacking in social skills or delusional, or like I spend all my time lurking in my basement waiting for the TARDIS to turn up and take me away. I just love this show, love reading the fanfic, love discussing it with like-minded fans. It's not my whole life, not by a long shot, but it brings me pleasure, stirs my imagination, provides me with an outlet for my creativity. Like Harry Potter used to, like Lord of the Rings used to, like countless other books or movies or TV shows doubtless will in years to come. Why is that somehow less acceptable than, say, my housemates' drive to get drunk in bars every weekend, or obsessing over a sports team?

One thing I sincerely miss about Dave (the guy I was with for all of college) was that he respected my fannishness -- hell, he was more than a bit fannish himself. We made fun of each other's respective geekdoms all the time, but always good-naturedly, and he understood that some nights, I needed to be left to myself to flail over some new fanfic, just like I willingly let him indulge in twelve-hour D&D fests with his high school buddies every now and then. Or, even better, when our fannish tastes overlapped, and we'd spend every night for a week watching episodes of House or the X-Files, or hours debating finer points of HP canon. Our relationship ended for a number of very good reasons -- not least of which being we'd fallen out of love with each other -- and I don't want him back. But I do now understand that I could never settle for anyone willing to give me less than that, and how rare people like that are in the world. I might never find someone I can fully be myself with again -- which doesn't mean I won't have flings or will never get laid or anything pithy like that. But falling in romantic love...well, I hope to have that again someday, but it feels less and less likely every day.

But you know what? I think I'll also be fine without it. Because I'm not without that element of sheer joy in my life. Not at all. Even if a silly television show can never love me back.

I'm not a politically savvy person. I don't talk about politics here much. I know I'm not particularly eloquent or knowledgable or inspiring when it comes to these things. But please indulge me just this once.

In fall of 2004, I was starting my second year at college. I was 19. It was the first election year I was eligible to vote in. Most of my friends were fussing about absentee ballots, and what the deadlines were, and wondering whether or not their votes would even be counted. But I registered to vote with my school address, in Chicago, rather than my then-permanent address back home in New York. I was determined to be an Illinois voter for the sole purpose of being able to vote for Barack Obama for senator.

I've had "barack obama for president" as an LJ interest since that 2004 DNC. I joked that I was going to write him in for president that year, because Kerry (for whom I did vote) was so singularly uninspiring a candidate. Wishful thinking, I figured, but what the hell. In my lifetime, I have never, and I mean never, been at all inspired by any politician. Reagan was president when I was born; I have never known a White House without either a Bush or a Clinton in some capacity. The first election I remember with any clarity was Clinton vs. Dole in 1996; I was glad Clinton won because my parents (even my generally-Republican father) voted for him. I rooted for Gore in 2000 only because Bush was so unappealing; I was kind of sad McCain lost the Republican primary, because he at least seemed like a slightly palatable alternative. I had very little interest in the 2004 primaries, because none of the Democratic contenders were particularly strong candidates; I vaguely supported Edwards, but didn't bother voting in the primary. I voted for Kerry only because he wasn't Bush. I'd never even paid attention to Senate races before -- I just wasn't all that interested in politics. And frankly, with Bush at the helm, I wasn't feeling particularly patriotic or happy to be American. But then suddenly here was this young, charismatic, inspiring, unknown speaker at the DNC, whom I'd never even heard of but who made me want to care, want to be political, want a stake in our government. And that's something I'd never encountered before in my life.

I don't have any real problems with Hillary Clinton. I was happy enough when she was elected senator of my home state. I think she'd make a decent president -- certainly far better than Bush. If she wins the nomination, I'll be content to vote for her in November.

But this morning, I got to vote to nominate Barack Obama for President of the United States, and in a way, it's the fulfillment of a dream I never really thought would come to pass.

Si, se puede.

ETA: For a coherent, well-written review of why Obama would make a good president, have a look over here. She's way more politically savvy than I am.

I'm in a quiet, romantic sort of mood, a falling in love sort of mood. Since I have no one to fall in love with myself, I've been indulging by watching movies where people fall in love and live happily ever after. Just finished Stardust, on to Pride and Prejudice, I think. Nearly all of my DVDs are either TV shows or beautiful, depressing movies, so these are pretty much the closest things to chick flicks in my possession. Good enough for tonight.

In completely unrelated geekiness, I think I love my actors (in the show I'm working on). During rehearsal today, we did a scene where this one character gives this sappy toast, and all the others repeat after him. ("To each and to all!" "To each and to all!" That sort of thing.) Going through it for the fifth time or so, and completely without warning, the actor went on: "So say we all!" And without pausing to think about, everyone else repeated: "So say we all!"

I nearly fell out of my chair laughing. BSG fans are everywhere.

I've got the apartment to myself for a couple of days, apparently. Roommate #1 has been back home at her parents' for this past week, and won't get back until Sunday; Roommate #2 just left for the airport. It's kind of an odd feeling, being the only person in a decently large three-bedroom apartment. It's like I'm back in high school, when my parents would go up to their house in the mountains every weekend and leave me to do what I liked back in our apartment in the city -- it's still home territory, but it always feels strange to be rattling around alone in a space too big for just me. This is why I just wanted to move into a studio, rather than a one-bedroom -- apart from the price difference, I just feel more comfortable being on my own in a smaller space.

It probably has something to do with growing up in downtown New York City, where every inch of space is valuable and put to good use; when my boyfriend (who's from Indianapolis, in a house which he calls within city limits, and I call suburban) takes me to his parents' house and talks about how wonderful it is to have all that SPACE in the house, I just don't get it -- I've never seen the point of having more rooms than you need. When I want space, I go out and wander the city streets and feel free as air. When I'm at home, I just want to feel cozy and safe.

That turned into more of a tangent than I intended. So it goes.

I have reached a mental impasse; that is, to NaNo or not to NaNo.

Pros:
-Have loads of free time these days.
-Good opportunity to jumpstart that YA fantasy what has been churning in my brain all summer.
-Would like to get back in the habit of writing again.
-To dream the impossible dream, etc.

Cons:
-Am quite possibly incapable of producing that much text in a month.
-My style of writing unsuited to NaNo -- I jump around a lot, edit constantly, etc.
-Still have things I have to do, i.e. attend classes, write papers, etc.
-Also, have some semblance of a life.
-Would like to get back in the habit of writing fic again.
-Am probably not insane enough.

*ponders*

I'm short. Not ridiculously short -- about 5'3"-ish -- but still, most of the people I interact with are taller than I am. In fact, I tend to feel very uncomfortable interacting with people who are shorter than me. Maybe it has to do with looking down rather than up to talk to them; it makes me feel disproportionately large and awkward. I deal with it, of course -- statistically speaking, I'm no midget, and of course a couple of my friends are smaller than I am -- but, yeah. It's weird. And I know my boyfriend, who's 6' tall, tends to feel uncomfortable around people taller than him.

So does anyone else have these weird relative-height issues? Or other silly things like that?

As the term progresses, I am increasingly thankful that my grades for this year don't count towards my GPA. When the Study Abroad people first told us that, I was all WTF I AM GOOD STUDENT ALL MY GRADES SHOULD COUNT. But over here, I'm really coming to realize how different the British/Irish method of study is from the American, and I'm already quite nervous about failing my final exams. I'm not the sort of person who really stresses out about schoolwork -- bitch about it, sure, but not really worry, because I know I'm reasonably intelligent and I know my shit and I can write good essays and such. But here, I've actually been having nightmares about final exams, which, y'know, is ever so slightly premature as they are in MAY. Because I don't know how to prepare for this sort of exam. I don't even know where to begin. And I feel like I must be miles and miles behind all the Irish students in terms of classwork, because we have no assignments aside from reading, and with some notable exceptions (i.e. we will be discussing play X so read it before coming to class), the reading, while relevant, really doesn't seem necessary. I mean, the prof sits there and lectures us on the topic of the week, and we take notes and are rarely called on to speak or discuss much. So the readings just sort of seem like...background info, and I wind up not doing them because the important info is covered in the lecture. And coming from the UofC, where discussion is the primary element of nearly all my classes, trying to learn in a purely lecture-based environment is...really quite difficult for me, actually. And then we're graded on one essay per term plus the final exam, and that's IT. Also alien to me. The essays, of course, are a bit longer than the ones I'm used to writing (although I have, on occasion, written longer), and heavily rely on doing a shitload of research outside of class. Which, pathetic as this may sound, I'm not at all used to. I'm used to having the required texts for the course, and reading them all cover to cover, and writing about them. Here, it's all "well, this is the play for the week and here is a bibliography of fifty books that are relevant to the course that might be interesting to look over." This boggles me. I don't know what to do with this information. Read all fifty books per course? That can't possibly be what they expect of us. Or is it? I don't know. The other Visiting Students in my classes are just as baffled as I am. Well, I guess we'll all go down together.

I'm just. I don't know. My grades are probably going to be lower this year than ever before in my life, and I don't really know what to do about it. Everyone has a system of learning that works best for them, and this is just definitely not mine.

Ah, fuck it. I'm not going into academia, anyway. I'm not even planning on going to grad school, which makes me quite the black sheep at my home university. To be honest, I'm only in college because I know I need the degree to get anywhere in my life. I'm sick of schooling. I'd much rather be out in the real world, learning by experience instead of out of books. But that, my parents/teachers/friends say, would be a waste of my intelligence, so here I am.

There's nothing quite so disheartening, for me, than working on a really bloody long fic. (Long for me, anyway - I know some of you can churn out 80-page epics over breakfast, and I envy you like mad.) But seriously. Because you open up the doc, and see that you've written 22 pages, and feel all pleased and productive for a bit, and then realize, fuck, I'm only about halfway through. And I've been working on it for 7+ months now. And I really should get it done this summer, because I know I won't really be much interested in working on it in Dublin. And sometimes, I read over sections of it and think it's brilliant, but sometimes I think it's all crap.

And if it's ever done, and beta-ed, and posted -- well, who's going to be interested in reading a 40ish page epic about Peter Pettigrew, for fuck's sake? He stirs up less fandom interest than fucking Theodore Nott -- who is hardly a footnote in canon, for chrissakes. I just feel like I'm putting a ridiculous amount of time and effort into something no one's going to give a shit about. And yes, I realize that I'm supposed to be writing for MYSELF, not the theoretical internet masses. I am, of course, but let's face it: deep down, fic writers are all needy egotistical fanatics who require a steady supply of feedback to survive, and I'm no better than anyone else.

Meh.

Haven't been on LJ all day. Won't check the flist until tomorrow night, probably.

BA critical paper (draft) status (because you all need to know, of course!)
Critical pages written: 7
Creative pages written: 5
Pages of potentially useful quotations yet unused: 7
Pages of quotations deemed probably not useful: 3
Minimum pages left to write (predominantly critical, perhaps some creative): 8
Time actual writing started: 7:00 PM
Time now: 5:30 AM
Time due: 3:00 PM
Amount of time deliberately wasted since actual writing began: approx. 3 hours, including 1.5 hours a cappella rehearsal
Time before boyfriend's alarm goes off: 3 hours
Chance of seeing sunrise: very, very high
Chance of getting to bed before boyfriend leaves it: middling-to-fair, depending on when the inevitable crash hits
Panicking?: not quite, as I've resolved not to attend either of my morning classes

I've reached the sort of zen that comes with being well into your second or third wind, when you can see the sky getting lighter even through the rain and occasional lightning flashes, when your butt is asleep and you're starting to have trouble moving quickly, when your fingers are starting to feel numb with exhaustion but you just keep typing, when you feel that special extra-alert-awake-wiredness that only comes just before you crash. The sort of zen that comes with knowing that there are still more than nine hours to go and oh christ you try to sleep for nine hours a night when you can, ah fuck, but at least you got seven hours last night plus a two hour nap this (yesterday) afternoon.

The sort of zen that comes when you realize fuck it, it's just a draft.

I wonder when the crash will hit.

I've reached a sort of zen state, re: schoolwork. Like. No matter how frantically I study and read shit and try to take loads of notes for my Tolkien midterm tomorrow morning, I'll never be prepared for it. I just won't. There's been about 400 pages of reading per week, of which I've only managed to do about half on a regular basis, and my brain simply cannot process that much information all at once. So. I'll read a bit more, maybe jot down a few things, but I won't stay up all night worrying about it. The exam is at 9am; if I don't get enough sleep, I'll just botch it all up anyway. And I'll get through the essay somehow. I've done it before. I won't do fantastically, but I'll pass. And once my show is over, I'll have time to really work hard for the rest of the quarter, so even if I do really badly tomorrow, I'll pull through all right. This class is just an elective; it's not hugely important. And no one will ever care if I failed one lousy midterm in one lousy class once in my entire college career. This isn't a big deal.

I just want it to be over with. That's all.

"The world is growing more tolerant. One day you will be ashamed of your treatment of me." --Oscar Wilde, ca. 1895

Don't move to Canada. Don't give up. Don't spend the next four years whining about the election. It happened, it sucks, and we've all had a good long cry (which is perfectly fine). Now it's time to regroup and keep fighting. For gay rights. For all civil rights. For not overturning Roe v. Wade, for stem cell research, for not having our privacy invaded by the government, for the environment, for affordable health care, for getting the hell out of Iraq, for reestablishing foreign alliances, for earning back the rest of the world's respect, for everything and anything you hold dear and believe this administration might destroy. We've had our day of mourning. We've bitched and moaned and commisserated, and it didn't solve anything but damn it felt good. And now it's time to take a deep collective breath and plunge back into the fray.

It's not the end of the world. A huge setback, but one we're strong enough to overcome. I want to be proud to be an American again. Don't give up the fight.

Have been feeling extremely meh about fandom this past week. Not sure why. I saw RotK again on Friday, and it was as good as ever, but aside from that...I dunno. This is not a good week for me to be unfandomy, since I'm on Spring Break and was planning to use the time to write those three fics-with-deadlines. Maybe the plotbunnies will revive themselves in a couple of days.

I think I've started to use fandom and LJ as a distraction, something pleasant and fun to make me feel better when I've got too much work and classes are bogging me down and I'm feeling frustrated with my inability to make friends easily at college. But now that I'm home, on vacation, with no stress, doing whatever I want all day, fandom stops being a necessary part of my life. I don't need to use fandom as a distraction when there's nothing to be distracted from.

Maybe I just need a Spring Break from LJ, too.

I'll be around, I guess, but I won't be checking the flist regularly and I'll be doing a lot more skimming than usual. I should be back in full swing next week.