Wednesday, March 27, 2013


Christ, I feel like a certain consulting detective with that.

But I am, decidedly, bored.  Therefore you all get TWO posts from me today, aren't you lucky?

I'm struggling with my writing still.  I mean, like that's ever going to really change, but it's just so difficult to get it to a place where I'm happy with how the story is going.  I've got like ten going at once, and none of them are anywhere near where I want them to be and it's FRUSTRATING.  Like, immensely.

I've got so much going on in my head I want to get out.  Like, so much I can't even create the words to string them together to make sentences to make coherent thoughts to possibly outline the vaguest idea of what I have in my head.  BLARGHARARAGAHRAR

Apparently that is what I have to say to that.

A good portion of what's going on in my head is the same old useless self-deprecation I'm so good at getting into.  And I mean, it's not like it's entirely unfounded.  It wouldn't be in my head if I didn't think there was some modicum of basis in reality.  And, technically, since I can think it, in this universe, on this plane of existence, wouldn't it then be actually part of reality?  It's a thought.  A philosophical one, but a thought.

I don't know.  I mentioned to my parents and my sister at Sunday lunch that it will likely be several if not many years before I'm even prepared to maybe get married (It came up in conversation), and they all looked at me like 'Noooo, now you've said it, now the 6 month rule comes into play and you'll find the man of your dreams before the year is out'

And I was like, no I've found the man of my dreams, several times, the problem is is that the man of my dreams will never be attracted to me -- not even in my dreams.  This is a certifiable fact I've sufficiently concluded in several different ways, shapes, and forms up to and including in my own head.

I can't even have a successful imaginary relationship, is what I'm saying here.  I've tried -- Benedict Cumberbatch being the most recent (and most successful) endeavor to this particular form of masochism I subject myself to.  I also tried Bradley James (he plays Arthur in Merlin *stifles inappropriate giggle at the word order*), but while he's attractive and we're much more likely to get on, he's not...

And I don't know what about Cumberbatch is better, because at that point, he's 16 years older than I am, and probably has as many self-confidence issues as I do, and therefore we would be doomed to fail because neither of us would be willing to think the other liked us.  Or he would find he was settling for me because he's sure no one more attractive would be interested.

I tried Zachary Quinto at one point, but he's gay, and surprisingly there are limits to my emotional masochism.  I'm apparently not allowed to stake claim on Chris Pine because KW has already called dibs.  Which is fine, except she's no longer allowed to make fun of me for liking Benedict Cumberbatch because there's a very similar age difference between her and Pine as with me and Cumberbatch.

Actually, I'm going to look that up and see, because I want to be right, and then I will have PROOF.  HAH! Fifteen years.  I WIN.

Let's see...I tried Colin Morgan, too, who looks a lot like Cumberbatch, but I had a similar problem with him as I did with James.  Plus, I secretly think that Morgan and James are having a sordid love affair with one another, or they were, anyway, whilst filming.  Dunno if it's still on or not, haven't been following them closely.

I think my next move will be Jensen Ackles (??? spelling?) from Supernatural, but even then, I'm not entirely sure.  He has to not be taken, is one of my main requirements for a celebrity crush (because I'm retarded and for whatever reason I won't even let myself have a crush on someone I have no chance with anyway if they already have a girlfriend?!?).  Or gay.  But he does have a VERY fine behind, and is very attractive otherwise (he has a similar facial structure to Bradley James, which is on the more traditionally attractive side of my personal preferences).

Haha, I've got a pattern of types.  I have my "moderately traditionally attractive" blokes who aren't obscenely attractive, but are normal enough looking (Ackles, James, David Tennant [tenth doctor]).  and then I have my "who the hell else thinks these people are attractive but myself" people, who are on the more alienesque side of things (Cumberbatch, Matt Smith [eleventh doctor], Colin Morgan [sorry honey, but you're odd looking and I love it, but you are] to name a few).

And I'll have you note the very distinct types of these men.  Ackles, James, and Tennant have blond to medium brown hair, seem more sturdily built (less waifly looking at a glance, play more sturdy characters, etc), and seem generally friendlier at a glance.  Cumberbatch, Smith, and Morgan have dark hair (okay, when I first met them as their characters they did anyway), high cheekbones, a rather ethereal appearance, and tend to be a little -- I want to use the word wispy but that's not quite what I mean...

And it's hilarious because it translates to my real world crushes I've had.  I usually end up going for the Ackles-James-Tennant type as far as real life goes but it usually doesn't go anywhere (case in point NT, my first ever crush ever, several others, there's a ridiculous list).  I end up dating the Cumberbatch-Smith-Morgan types (okay, so they're tall, and thin-looking, and awkward) except for one  occasion where I was dating a mixture, but we all know where that ended up.

And I'm not against having types, it's fine, it's just...I dunno.

I gotta attempt to find an outlet now.  Sorry about the random description of all of my celebrity crushes. You're welcome?

Until Next Time, Dear Readers,

Another English Language Rant

And possibly some stream of consciousness, because I can never stay on one subject.

Been reading a LOT of fan fiction recently.  Yes, it's still Sherlock flavored.  I can't seem to escape it.

And one thing I've noticed is that people misuse the word "dilation" in relation to pupil size in eyes.

So I want to go over what dilation means, and what contraction means, and when your eyes do both.  I happen to be very well informed of these things because I have horrific vision and thus have been to an optician several times in my life.

Dilation: noun  1) the act or action of dilating; the state of being dilated 2) the action of stretching or enlarging an organ or part of the body.

Contraction: noun 1) a: the action or process of contracting; the state of being contracted b: the shortening and thickening of a functioning muscle or muscle fibre

Dilation of the pupil occurs when it is dark in a room, a chemical eyedrop has been placed in the eye and to produce dilation in order to see the inner eye clearly, or in the case of sexual arousal.  Sometimes it occurs when a person has been drugged.  It also occurs in the case of death (I learned this from tumblr, so it might not be true, but based on zombie movies, I'm not entirely sure it isn't true).

Contraction of the pupil occurs when in bright light, and sometimes in the case of being drugged.  There are probably other times this happens, like for a fear response (this, again, was probably learned from an unreliable internet source, but seems pretty accurate, considering movies).

I see a lot of people just completely ignore the term contraction when speaking of the pupil.  For instance, in this particular fan fiction I am reading where this came up once more, and I was thusly prompted to write about it because, well, ADD:  "Character X's pupils were so dilated he might as well be staring at the sun".  Admittedly, this is a vampire fic, so it could be that his pupils react opposite to a living human's, however I don't believe this is the case, as this is not the first time I've encountered this lapse in vocabulary, and certainly the other times were not in reference to vampires.

So when I read a sentence like the one quoted above, I'm left to wonder "Were his eyes dilated to be very wide and black almost through his whole eye, or did he look like he'd been staring at the sun, and had severely CONTRACTED pupils, so that there was a very small dot of black?"  And it detracts from the story, I'm sorry.

It's like trying to figure out what position the characters are in when they start kissing/making out/cuddling/having sex.  It's rare you find an author that tells you when they change position so that the previous position they were in and the current position they are now in are both possible in the context of the scene.  It irks me.  It also annoys me when people don't specify which side so and so character is on in relation to the other character -- as in right and left.  Obviously they have written with specific sides in mind, so tell us, so we're not thrown off by the image in our head when something changes.


Okay, enough ranting.  I'm going to go back to reading, and hopefully there will be no more atrocities to the english language whilst reading.

I mean, I'd understand if they weren't native speakers, but they are and honestly!!!

Until Next Time, Dear Readers,

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

The Waiting Game

At this point, that's what I'm playing.  My charger doesn't reach the nearest outlet, my usual seat in the glass box was taken (actually...all of the seats were taken), so I'm in the student lounge, casually watching those about me whenever I decide to look up from the screen.  I've got a couple hours on my battery life as long as I don't look at any gifs or videos.  So tumblr is out of the question, and so are any of my favorite funny pictures sites, and youtube.  As well as any games, like Candy Crush Saga (which I'm bloody addicted to at this point.  It's like crack.  I've got to beat this level, I hate this game, oh! I beat it, look at me go, three levels later and start the process over again.

And mind, the first two parts of the process usually take days.

So you're going to get a stream of consciousness post from me.  Lucky you.

I need to be writing more of my stories.  But at this point, I hate them all and none of them are any good, so that's probably going to be a very long time from now that anything gets done.  I want to be working on them, but doing so makes me frustrated, annoyed, and bitchy, so...yeah.  Avoiding.

Kind of how I feel about my school work at this point.  I need to get it done, or I won't graduate, it's fairly simple, if I apply myself properly and actually, you know, get it done, but I hate it, it's frustrating, annoying, retarded, and it's all the computer's fault of course, and so yeah, avoiding.

It's a vicious cycle, because usually if I don't do one, I do the other, and it used to work out okay for me.  Except for this semester apparently, where the entire internet tempts me at every turn and I'm just like 'Ooooh, look, Sherlock series 3 has started filming, let's look at pictures of Benedict Cumberbatch's face because I have nothing better to do'.  Except I do have better things to be doing, but he's just so attractive and lovely, and apparently just a sweet puppy inside of a man's body according to the interviews and I hope he's really like that, because if he's actually an asshole, my whole life is ruined.

And Martin Freeman is a snarky, sassy bastard and I love him.

And where was I?  Oh yes, avoiding schoolwork and responsibilities.  I'm really good at it.  Trust me.

Why do you think my room isn't clean, I'm not caught up with my school work (it's not affecting me yet, but it will), and my writing isn't getting done?  Because I'm at work, and then I'm tired, and then the internet, and then oh, my other job, and then oh I'm actually at school and there are so many other things...

And it's just so...yeaaaah.

And I'm studiously avoiding anything pertaining to romance right now (which explains my lack of writing away quite quickly and effectively), because I just can't do it.  I'm not ready.  I'm decidedly not ready.  Despite how much I try to protest to the contrary, I am not ready.

I'm just not.  So I try and keep my contact with the opposite gender very minimal because the way my mind works, five minutes after meeting someone new, I've got the entirety of our relationship planned out in my head, up to and sometimes (depending on how much this guy clicks with me) including marriage.  It's distressing, hurts only me in the end, and entirely unrealistic.  So I'm just...not right now.

Hence the fixation on B.C., I suppose.

Also, I want to make adn. a thing.  An abbreviation, like etc.  But it's ad nauseam.  I don't know if it actually has a thing, but I want to make it one.  Except it looks like a misspelling of and, and that might not go over well.  I should look this up.  It does not have an abbreviation, but it ought to.  Possibly ad naus.  Or something.  Because that's a long phrase, and it could be overused to the point that etc (et cetera) is and lose all meaning entirely because people would use it in the wrong context and it could be GLORIOUS.

Except no one's ever going to pick it up.  And personally, adn. is my favorite.  Short, sweet, and too the point.  Ad nauseam.

Yeah, I had that thought in my Statistics class.

I'm trying to use some of my original characters in the way they were intended -- as original characters in already existent universes.  I had a couple from the Harry Potter universe, and I think I could possibly develop them further if I could look at them in the context of someone else's world.  And then I could build my own world around what they frame from that.  It's a complicated process.  Perhaps if I used a couple examples?

I have two characters, both female, and both started out in the Harry Potter universe (Marauders era, and if that doesn't make sense to you, read the books, and then assume the time period when Harry's parents went to Hogwarts).   Somewhere in the 70s or so.  I mean, I think that's the accepted cannon.  I don't know if it's technically Word of God, but it seems to be the prevailing theme.  We're going to move on from this because informing you of the language of fandom is likely for another post.  (and most of the information can be found on TV Tropes).

Anyway, these two characters started out as Mary-Sues, or a way to insert myself into the universe of the story, and create a fictional love-story between myself and a character. It's a term now to describe any character that does this in a overt, thinly veiled manner, where it's fairly obvious that it's just the author telling a story about themselves and making themselves more likeable.  Usually the theme is that everyone thinks the Mary-Sue is super po--
Damn I said I wasn't going to do this.  Oh well, might as well.  What else am I doing?

--super popular and likely uber special like a snowflake and completely unique and entirely historically inaccurate.  USUALLY.  The first one, Aries DieTraumer, was like this.  That was her original name, and it was a blatant attempt at self-insertion into a story.

She was to be the love interest of Sirius Black because everyone loves Sirius.  Siriusly.

The second was Melle St. Alvery and if you know my name, you know why this was blatant.  At least the first time I tried to hide it.  Nope, not this time.  Anyway, Melle was the sister/cousin thing of Snape (I never really finalized it) and was half-werewolf and this was written well before we knew Snape was actually *SPOILERSSPOILERSSPOILERS* because I'm not cruel and if you want to know, you can read the damn books, so her aunt/his mom was a mean bitch who hated Melle and it was to make the story more dramatic and emo because that's what I do.

Or did. because I was 14 at the time, and all the cool, non-homeschooled kids were doing it, and it was the internet and Mom couldn't see it.

And, yeah, eventually Melle and Remus had super lovelove times, then they eventually have an illegitimate kid, who may or may not be half-two-thirds-whatever-math-sucks werewolf, who we later find out is Seamus Finnigan because, wait what?

Yeah, okay, so Melle obviously had a more fleshed out story than Aries. But I didn't like Aries because she looked more like me.  Melle was completely different.  She had black hair and gold eyes.  Therefore completely different.

In the past si-seven (good god, has it really been that long?) years, they've obviously changed quite a bit.  Melle's name hasn't changed, but her hairstyle has several times.  I'm leaning towards keeping her with long black hair (with the grey streaks because you can't be a werewolf without going grey super prematurely), and one of her eyes is blind and has a scar because, duh, werewolf.  And she's a full werewolf now because half sucks, but it's my version of a werewolf and not J.K. Rowlings because mine makes more...sense??? I don't think so, but whatever.  It's not entirely different, but it's certainly not the weird naked thing that we saw in the movie.  And Melle is still a witch, but more like an actual witch and not a...magic witch which doesn't make sense unless I explain it but this is getting long and I really want to talk about Aries.

Aries has changed a bit more.  Oh, she's still a snarky sarcastic bitch, both of them are, but Aries more so.  And her name isn't Aries anymore.  Nor is it DieTraumer, because I'm not 15 anymore.  Her name is now Ethel Loryn Smith Dietram.  She goes by Ettie for short because Ethel is a horrible name for your daughter if you don't live in 1880.  Except I love the name Ethel, so I'll likely name my daughter Ethel because.  Ethel Rose.  But that's a completely different subject.  Where were we?  Oh yes,  Aries never really had much of a backstory because who cared about that when you were writing at 13?  No one!

Except for good writers, but I digress.  But now she's got a super complicated one.  Her original name was Ettie Smith, whose parents died when she was 8.  She was then sent to live in an orphanage (or foster home.  I haven't decided yet), where she was the eldest and was pretty much big sister to all of the kids, including her little sister, Rosie.  Rosie was taken by consumption because the world is a cruel place and it's some time in the late 20th century and what.  But okay, we're moving on.  A lot of this hasn't been fleshed out completely yet, but this is helping.  So anyway, orphanage, older sister, youngest sister dies in orphanage.  Then, suddenly, super wealthy family, the Dietrams (Mr. Dietram is the CEO of Dietram Incorporated which deals with technology and fashion because, duh, Mrs. Dietram has to have some say, and also she's related to the Royal Family of England and is a Lady something or other of someplace but we're working on that) come in and decide that as a philanthropy thing, they need to adopt a kid from the orphanage and then subsequently donate lots and lots of money to this particular orphanage in question.  So they choose Ettie because no one usually wants a kid older than 12 and by now she's 14 and a sullen teenager, and she's the oldest, but she's also the closest to Mr. and Mrs. Dietram's biological son, William (who is a whole other project and is only connected to Ettie via my own personal story and I need to work on him, because he'll eventually be connected to Melle, and ehhhhhhh).  Bill Dietram has just gone off to college, and instead of getting his wife a dog, Mr. Dietram has decided to appease his wife's wild notion of having a little girl to dress up as a doll.  But not a little girl, because she's so over that whole training thing.  She wants a fully grown girl, who she can dress up in pretty things.

Choosing Ettie is a horrible decision, but they don't know this for a very long time.  Because she wants to be loved, she has horrible nice-person issues, where she just wants everyone to like her, regardless of what she has to do in the beginning.  Because no one's wanted poor little Ettie for a very long time.

Aww, I'm making myself sad.  Okay, so she begrudgingly submits herself to Mrs. Dietram's will for five years.  And then she suddenly grows a backbone because strong female characters, yes?

So she moves out, refuses to go back to the pretentious school where they didn't teach anything interesting, like vigilantism, crime fighting skills, or the ability to become batman because you have loads and loads of burnable money you're not doing anything with properly. (she kind of has a big issue with this, obviously).  So she drops out, moves away, changes her name back to Smith (not officially, but it was never removed from her papers, so she hyphenates a lot, and usually just tells people she's Ettie Smith), and lives off of the income she makes as a barista at a coffee shop, and as a waitress at a busy pub.  The monthly allowance Mr. Dietram gives her because he does actually love her, and she loves him, but she doesn't love his money, she cashes and gives to the homeless people of London, where she lives.

I'm going somewhere with this, I promise.  She's who I'm working on right now and I really like the story but not enough to actually do anything with right now and I'm planning on writing it, I am.  It's just hard.

Anyway, so yadda yadda, London, barista, works in a coffee shop...Ah yes, so during the three year period where Sherlock Holmes is "dead" and John Watson is inconsolable (because he would be, don't you even fucking dare deny it.  They were in LOVE.  You can't take that away), John starts going to the coffee shop she works at, while he's been running his "I believe in Sherlock Holmes" campaign, whatnot, the whole time, and she's been writing the tagline above on every cup of coffee she comes in contact with during the day.  So when he notices, they strike up a conversation.  Her reason for believing in S.H. (Abbreviations because this is looooong) is because all her homeless friends are part of his network, and since they love her, she's privy to all of the information.  She's even met him once or twice while she was conversing with them.  Anyway, yes, so they become great friends and she's bitchy and sarcastic enough to fill in for Sherlock a lot of the time, and John is not-quite-smitten, but very close to being so, and asks her out, and she says "nooooope, not a chance" because she likes him, but she knows it won't go well because their only connection is Sherlock, who is dead, and you can't base a relationship on a dead man.

And then, duh duh duuuuuuuh, Sherlock is back (this might get written AFTER series three comes out, not sure), and he's like "Yo Jawn, come solve crime with me again," And John's all like "But I've gone on without you, look, here's my girlfriend Mary" and Sherlock's all like, "But...but," And John's like "You were dead! Why aren't you dead?  I should kill you for what you put me through by being dead but not being dead" and then Mary's all like 'Wtf" and Ettie is there because, duh, friends, and she's all like 'Dude, don't kill Sherlock, he's your friend." And John's all like, "fine," and he's like "But look, Sherlock, I've got friends and I've a life, and I can't do this wild wandering about town."

And Sherlock looks at Ettie and is like," Middle class, happy family, middle child, wants to be noticed, works two jobs, do-good-er, yaddayadda.  Want to solve crimes with me?" And she's all, "You got everything wrong, but okay."

And John still comes along (more often than he claimed he would), and Ettie and Sherlock start being all buddy buddy and he still tries to deduct her life, but she's frustrating, and yeah.

See?  I still can't write proper mary-sues. It's so transparent that THAT's what's going on.  But I don't like Irene Adler, I don't think she'd be a good match for Sherlock.  And John and Sherlock are my favorite, but Mary's a sweetheart in the ACD stories, and I like her, so I want to keep her without hurting her, so no J/S.  So Ettie -- almost like a female John, but just enough of Sherlock to make it like a nicer Irene.  I don't know...I'm grasping at straws here.  But I do like the premise.  We'll work on it.

And that's what's going on in my head.  I'm still trying to figure out how to insert Rianu back into his original story (YuYuHakusho), but that really just might not happen.  We'll see where I can fit D'Arty, because it will be easier to find him a place than to find Rianu a place.

Yeah...okay, we're going to...stop here because I need to plug in my computer.
Until Next Time, Dear Readers,

Friday, March 15, 2013


Spring break is really hard to translate into ermagerd.  Just saying.

So hai.

Well, obviously it's spring break.  End of, actually.  Been way super busy enjoying in southbeach.

Haha I'm just kidding.  I'm sitting in my parents' empty house with their dogs who bark at nothing all by myself while they're in Dallas with my little sister for a singing thing.

It's been oddly stressful.

Of course, this was the week I decided my lack of watching Dr. Who needed to be amended immediately and have gone on hours long binges for the past three days.  So them barking at nothing has been mildly terrifying, even though this is fairly typical for them.

Stupid dogs.

However, their use in alerting me to the potential of incoming intruders is indispensable, and thusly I have decided that acquiring an alert animal of my own when I quit my current domicile will be a good move.

And I will train the damn animal to wake me up at a perfectly normal hour that isn't 3:30 in the goddamn morning EVERY SINGLE MORNING.

I shout at them for three hours before I take them out.  They've been doing wonderful jobs each of them holding it in, so it's not like they can't wait, they're just really super impatient.  I'm surprised Mom sleeps as long as she does with them barking at the top of the stairs in that high pitched "Okay time to go outside now" squeaky bark that they do.  And by they I mostly mean the geriatric one who does have a history of not being able to control all of her bladder all of the time, though I have yet to notice this.  She hasn't leaked before I've taken her out, despite her continuous barking from three thirty until I take them out at the still ungodly hour of six and there haven't been any other accidents to speak of this week and I'm likely jinxing myself but frankly I was expecting a clean up on isle home every single day, so I'll be honest, I'm not terribly worried.

Mom's going to hate me after this weekend though because they're going to go out at roughly 3:30 when I get up for work, and then she'll see.

Oh she'll see.

Although likely part of this is that she can't hear them all the way on the other end of the house in the basement, which is slightly unfair, and I don't know how my sister sleeps through it, although I suppose she's used to it by now, and mostly blocks it out, but seriously.

Where was I?  Oh yes, so I might get an alert animal of my own at some point.  I'd really rather not have a dog as they're far more needy than cats, but cats don't care, and likely would just let a potential murder or Weeping Angel waltz right in.

Unless Weeping Angels can't move if ANYTHING is staring at them, because then the cat would be completely invaluable, because I don't know if you know this but cats are master stare-ers...Starers?  They look at things for a very long time without blinking in a highly proficient manner.

This requires more research, and I'm going to have to start looking at apartments soon.  Buh.

On the one side, I won't technically HAVE to stay where I am right now, since, you know, I won't need close proximity to any sort of schooling type area and could potentially move closer to work.  Which might be okay in the long run, and might actually save me money and...Ugh, fine.  I'll look around and hope for the best.

But it means socializiiiii~iiiing.  And I don't wannnaaaaaaaa.

Until Next Time, Dear Readers,

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

How did I manage to go almost 21 years without having heard "Like a Boss" before yesterday?  I'm asking.

I somehow caught the boat (ahem) on "On A Boat" and unwrapped the mystery of "Dick in a Box" as well as "Jizz in my Pants".  The second two due to the videos I was watching on Youtube at the time (please, please, don't ask.  I wouldn't even be able to tell you.  The first I managed thanks to my at-the-time love interest who decided I needed to know about that, as well as some Russian opera-pop singer (it's much better than that description says.  It's really good, honest!)

But despite the fact that "Like A Boss" has stuck around far longer than any of these particular memes, I was decidedly undereducated as to the origins of the phrase.


This is no longer true.

I'm frankly a little disturbed at the contents of the song.  In a humorous manner, admittedly (dark, dark sense of humor), but disturbed nonetheless.  It starts off all funny and obvious and harmless and then he starts in on this horrible little spiral that ends in (what I'm assuming is) a description of a drug-induced hallucination of burning up in the sun and dying.

I don't even...What.

How is that even...I get that the punchline is that he says "like a boss" "about 400 times."  but...what?

Bleh, staying away from THAT side of the internet.  I will go back to the safe, Benedict Cumberbatch filled side, thanks very much.

And isn't it absolutely terrible that he's 16 years older than me and thus will likely NEVER EVER EVER IN THE ENTIRETY OF THE UNIVERSE AND TIME AND SPACE be interested in me?  Ugh, way to friendzone yourself in your fantasies, Michelle.

Until Next Time, Dear Readers,

Saturday, March 2, 2013

I Hate My Brain Sometimes

Which I the brain hating itself?  I don't know, those posts always seemed really meta to me.

I don't know if you knew this about me, but I read a LOT of fan fiction.  A scary amount, actually.  Recently I've been pretty much addicted to Sherlock, but that's neither here nor there (but it's got to be SOMEWHERE...That saying's never made much sense).

The reason I go back to the stories I enjoy the most (other than the fact that, duh, I enjoy them), is that they are (usually) a window into a meaningful relationship where two people care intimately about one another, and okay, yeah, sometimes they end up having sex, but sometimes it's just that they fucking care.  There's this friendship, a camaraderie between the two main characters, sometimes snarky banter, but in the end...they love each other.  There's sometimes flowery descriptions of casual touches and hugs (and okay, YES, since they're essentially girly novels I can read on the internet, kissing and sex too).  A lot of the time my favorites are perspective points.  Where we're seeing the relationship through the eyes of one of the characters, and sometimes they don't always know for a fact that the other person loves them but they love anyway.

And sometimes, like tonight (and a lot of other times) I'll be reading and I'll look at the words and I'll read the paragraph and imagine the picture in my head and I suddenly feel like I'm reading a science fiction book (or a cookbook) and I get to the end of the passage and I'm like 'Yeah, because THAT's going to happen'.  End sarcasm.

I mean, it's not that I don't think two people can have that close of a connection.  I was very lucky and my parents have been together for twenty...two? years.  (Ish?  Twenty one?  I don't...I think it's 21.  I'm such a horrible kid.  I should know this haha.  I'm pretty sure it's 21 years.)  And my mom's parents have been together since before she was born (so that's...more than 40 years or so) and, okay, my dad's parents didn't work out on their first try, but both of them have been happily married to other people for a long time (well before I was born anyway).  And now I'm getting to see the beginnings of a similar relationship with GL and MH.  (MR?  MRH?  Fuck it, GL's boyfriend).

And that's fine, it's great.  It can happen, it can be beautiful and wonderful and sweet and annoyingly adorable and that's fantastic.

But I just...

I want to believe that when the right guy comes along I will know without a doubt that this one is it.  You can let yourself love now, Michelle, it's over.  The waiting is done.  So he might not love you back, that's okay, because this is the one.  You can't stop it anyway.

Isn't it sad that my relationship aspiration is unrequited love?  Haha, man, I'm pathetic.

What was I talking about again?  Oh yeah.

But I've just never been able to let myself have that unrestrained, full-force, head-over-heels, home-run-world-series kind of feeling.  Oh don't get me wrong, I love.  I love a lot.  I love too much, actually (it can happen, trust me).  And it ends up getting me hurt.  And that's...well it's not fine, exactly, but it's not a bad thing, necessarily.

I love people who have no business even being in my thoughts anymore, because I have yet to find a way to turn off my emotions.  When I find the switch, I'll let you guys know.

I like to pretend I don't feel as strongly as I do about other people.  I like to pretend I don't care, that I'm a hard-hearted bitch with no compunctions as to the feelings of others.

But that's all it is, is pretending.  I'm just a big ol' softy.  I'm not even sure I do a very good job at pretending, either.  It all seems a bit out in the open, to be completely honest.  Even to people who don't know me as well as my family or GL do.

Where was I going with this?  I don't even remember.

I don't care enough to try and trace the thoughts.  Sucks to be you guys.

Anyway, I think this started with fan fic, so I'll continue on that train.

I don't know...It's just...I'd say I should stop reading it and try for more intellectual reading material.  Maybe catch up on a few of those TV shows I've been meaning to be watching.  Possibly validate the $8 charge to my bank account from Netflix.  Cook a meal for myself for once.  Explore the world. Step away from the computer for a bit.  But since none of those things will be happening in the near future, (I can take my fiction with me, I'm reading Sherlock Holmes on my phone, I've got The Help in the bathroom and isn't that a hilarious statement considering the nature of the book, I'll get around to watching TV eventually, when I get bored, I've got video games and movies when I feel like it, I can paint, I can draw, I go for walks, and cooking your own food is over rated when fantastic options are literally around the block.)  it's not really like it's going to happen any time soon.  And quite frankly, I wouldn't care either way.  If I ever acquire local friends, the Netflix charge will become justified as I really don't know what else you do with other people, except play video games, another thing I happen to have on hand.

(Okay, so as far as two player games, I have gran tourismo, but who doesn't like a racing game with fantastic cars?  I see no problems with this)

And I mean, maybe one day, in the not too terribly distant future (but certainly not near, because I'd hopefully be able to see that), someone will come along and I won't be able to shut down on my emotions like I tend to.  It will happen whether I like it or not.  There will be a draw, and we'll become friends, possibly even best friends, and maybe, just maybe, we can fall in love, and possibly we'll not know it for a while, but maybe we will, and maybe it will just fall into place.  But maybe it won't and we'll have to fight for it.  And that could be just as good too.

Ugh, when did I get so sappy and maudlin?  Grody!  Y'all, I 'pologize.

In other news, I have read far more Sherlock fan fiction than I have of any other fandom on the internet.  Even Harry Potter and Merlin.  And Gundam Wing (which, actually might not be accurate, but I don't care).  Possibly Harry Potter and Merlin combined.

But I'm not sure.

Until Next Time, Dear Readers,