no hateration in this dancery

waves

2009-12-19T18:32:29Z

So, very soon now I plan to make a post about how my life is totally insanely busy right now because work is kicking my ass because the fucking Texas state legislature keeps making new laws that ITS manages to turn into WEEKS' worth of more work for me on top of like, the job I am actually supposed to be doing. But now is not that time. Now, I am reccing a story that I just read because I'm pretty sure it was for me even though I dropped out of aiholidaybash for above mentioned reasons:

Physics Makes Us All Its Bitches

Go! Read it! If I know my flist, and I think I do, you will all enjoy the fuck out of this fic. I mean, it's 18,000 words of Kris-Brad BODYSWAP fic. As in, Brad and Kris switch bodies, and Adam finally figures his shit out because OMG KRIIIIIS. I mean, how can anyone deny their love of Kris, especially (despite?) when Kris is in Brad's body. The only thing that could possibly be better would be bodyswap alien mpreg wingfic in which Kris gives birth to a unicorn or something, but you know, if we got *everything* we wanted, there'd be nothing left to live for! So go read it. You won't be sorry.

And now, I think I am going to take a bath and catch up on Legend of the Seeker and Merlin and Dollhouse and finally finish winterlive's queenbitchfest fic, because omg I'm only like halfway through. THAT's how busy I've been, you guys. Too busy to finish a 50k-word post-apocalyptic American Idol fic. And that is sadtimes.

Oh also, I sent a bunch of you Christmas cards! And thanks to moonmelody and madam_d for the LJ gifts. Does anyone know if I can combine the gifts so I don't have to pay anything to upgrade back to paid account status? I don't like giving money to LJ, plus since I have 2, it seems like I should be able to use them both and get a free upgrade... but I've tried a couple ways and can't figure out how to use them both at the same time. Ideas? Anyone? Bueller??

Later, I will post a mix to make up for my lack of being around lately. It's a mix for a fic, and I will write a drabble for the person who guesses which fic the mix belongs to. <3

ffffuuuuu...

2009-12-02T20:06:53Z

I just looked at my prompts for aiholidaybash and realized that the story I had planned doesn't actually fit the prompt. And also that it's due in two weeks.

HOW DO I LET THESE THINGS HAPPEN???

I'm tempted to drop out and work on my charity fic instead. But I hate dropping out. Uuuuggggghhhh. Take this poll. Tell me what to do.

View Poll: fic-related activities

Fic: Yesterday Upon the Stair | AI RPF | Brad/Adam | Adult

2009-11-30T14:36:38Z

Yesterday Upon the Stair

Fandom: American Idol RPF
Pairing(s): Adam/Brad
Rating: Adult
Warning(s): drug use

Comments: Written for queenbitchfest based on the David Bowie song, "Man Who Sold the World." The title comes from the poem "Antigonish" by William Hughes, which is thought to be the inspiration for the song. Many thanks to the amazing and brilliant yeats, who not only ran the challenge, but also provided me with a fuckton of canon info when I didn't have time to properly stalk. Thanks also to mistresscurvy, emylina, and wutendeskind, who provided me with much-needed encouragement when I was in sheer crisis mode. And finally, thanks to all the pot I smoked, without which this fic would neither be possible nor have an ending. I still can't believe the ending makes sense, but I'm grateful it does.

Summary: This story will be about a man who figures out that he's much happier without the complications of falling in love, because he himself is so awesome that he doesn't need anyone else to make him feel like a worthwhile human being. Also, because it's a fuck of a lot less painful, but Brad doesn't feel like discussing that portion of tonight's program. Not that he's projecting or anything. It's all fiction in the end.

Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
I wish, I wish he’d go away...

When I came home last night at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn’t see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don’t you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don’t slam the door...

Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away

Brad doesn't believe in love.

Well, that's not exactly true. He doesn't believe in falling in love, if he's going to be precise about it, and as it turns out, Brad happens to be a pretty big fan of precision. He would even go so far as to say he believes in it; he believes in being direct and to the point, in saying exactly what you mean and meaning what you say, in being as honest and forthright as possible with little to no waste of words or emotion or regret. It's not love that means never having to say you're sorry, it's the lack of regret when everything inevitably turns to shit and the wife you gave up everything for dies of cancer. Luckily that will never happen to Brad, because of how he doesn't believe in love, but also because he doesn't live in a lame '70s version of Romeo and Juliet and he'd never marry a woman, much less someone who went to Radcliffe. That's just gross.

He's been in love, so he knows it exists. Other people are, in fact, free to fall in love at any time, even to women who go to Radcliffe and look like Ali MacGraw, it's just that Brad refuses to have anything to do with it. He's planning to write a screenplay on the topic very soon, actually. It's already half-written in his brain and he thinks it will be like a much better 500 Days of Summer with an actually believable ending that isn't redemptive vis a vie love in any way. No, this will be about a man who figures out that he's much happier without the complications of falling in love, because he himself is so awesome that he doesn't need anyone else to make him feel like a worthwhile human being.

Also, because it's a fuck of a lot less painful, but Brad doesn't feel like discussing that portion of tonight's program. Not that he's projecting or anything. It's all fiction in the end.

*

When he was seventeen, Brad was pretty sure that Texas was approximately equivalent to the eighth circle of Hell, but with at least three times as many corrupt politicians as Dante ever imagined was possible. Not just Texas, which after all was bigger than France and difficult to stereotype now that it was half Mexican and half redneck and half fire ants, but more specifically the affluent Dallas suburb in which he languished the summer after graduation with only his sister, his best dyke, and his dealer for comfort. The summer before, he'd spent the majority of it in Cedar Falls helping put together the Hell House and rehearsing for his role as "Fag Dying of AIDS" while secretly documenting the entire experience for a performance art piece on the irony of irony. Not that anyone in the Eighth Circle had really understood it, even Candy His Best Dyke, who gave him a lecture on internalized homophobia while simultaneously denying her own Dykehood, which Brad was pretty sure only proved his point, but the final edited version was brilliant if Brad was inclined to be modest about it; it got him into film school, anyway.

But that was last summer, when he had the motivation of getting into college to escape his suburban Hell, plus the added bonus of his pick of a hundred Cedar Falls Christian boys wearing purity rings to convince that it's not gay if you're not the one taking it up the ass. But this summer was a waiting game, which seemed like much less a game and more like actual torture, and certainly not as entertaining as Project Purity. Five weeks until California. Five more weeks of smoking up with Candy and refusing to leave the air conditioned safety of his bedroom-car-Starbucks unless it was to attend a swim meet at his parents' country club, because only swimmers in speedos could shake him from his pre-Cali daze.

Okay, so maybe 'torture' was a bit of an exaggeration, but it was all so boring and utterly mundane. He was far too young to be feminine mystiquing it up already. That life stage was meant to wait until he'd accomplished all his goals (A: go to film school, learn, etc. B: make brilliant film. C: get famous. D: and hopefully rich.) and was ready to settle down with some sugar daddy in the Hamptons, or wherever rich, idle people will go in ten years.

Candy said, "I don't get why you have to go all the way to California. Austin's only three hours away."

"It's still within the boundaries of the Eighth Circle," Brad said, and passed her the pipe.

Candy rolled her eyes. "Texas isn't that bad. You just want to get as far away from us as possible. Deny all knowledge of your humble beginnings so you can Valley of the Dolls it up in LA."

"Please. Like I'd ever need to resort to amphetamines to stay thin. That's what anorexia is for." He took the pipe back and it was almost cached, but there was just enough for one last hit, which he held in his throat as long as he could stand, until the hot burn of it made his eyes water. Candy was sprawled on the faux white bear rug in the center of his bedroom, a fashion nightmare of dyed black and magenta hair, combat boots and cargo shorts and a new vintage Tide t-shirt, the very picture of a baby dyke if he ever saw one, and usually her extreme level of denial annoyed him, but today, high off the very best hydro his dealer could acquire, Brad found her incomparably endearing. At the same time, she made him sad the way that everyone here did, so utterly stuck inside the DFW bubble of rich white trash and that particularly heady combination of entitlement and ignorance that came with too much money too fast without the talent to back it up. Candy wasn't as bad as the rest, though, because at least she cared about shit, at least she had her own thoughts and feelings and opinions and she gave a damn enough to bother expressing them. She wasn't a sheep except about him, which was exactly the way Brad preferred his friends--free thinkers up until the point where they disagreed with him, because he got challenged enough about his right to exist from everyone else, he really didn't need it from his friends, too.

And the thing was, he knew she was right; he knew he could've gone to UT with her and it wouldn't have been like high school at all. He knew that Austin was a different world, that nothing could really match the self-righteous fakery of the Eighth Circle, but it was too close anyway. It was only three hours away, but anything within a day's driving distance would never be far enough. It reminded him of that song, the one about how in a city of three million two hundred and sixty nine thousand nine hundred eighty four, everyone was lonely. Brad thought he would rather be lonely; he would rather get lost in a crowd. He didn't want to stop to consider what it was better than. That was kind of the whole point.

Because maybe he was running away. Maybe this was like the time when he was six and decided to run away from home, only no one ever realized he was even gone because he wasn't allowed to cross the street so he just kept circling the block over and over instead, hoping to spot an alternate route. He'd been trying to escape from pretty much the moment he was aware enough of this world to realize that he didn't belong in it, and his dad always said that men faced their problems head-on, they didn't back down or hide or give in, because apparently what it meant for his dad to be a man was actually being a stubborn asshole incapable of rational thought. But Brad had always known. When a place didn't want you, politeness dictated that you should probably just get the fuck out, said the joker to the thief. He was fairly certain that Emily Post would agree.

He would never be anything like his dad, anyway. Thank fucking Jesus for that.

So maybe he was running away, but Brad liked to think he was running to something, instead. "Semantics," Candy said, waving a hand in the air above her head for a moment to emphasize her point before letting it drop to the white cushion of faux bear fur beneath her. "It's like. Like saying seedless watermelon isn't fruit. Because of the no seeds thing. But it's still watermelon. You can't get past the fact that it's still a freaking watermelon."

She was maybe right about that, too, but Brad couldn't bother making himself care. He was too high to bother with anything, really, and he planned to stay that way until his sentence in the Eighth Circle was officially up.

Five weeks.

*

No one ever explicitly tells Brad that Adam is officially dating again, but it's not exactly hard to figure out even if Fox insists on labeling the new guy as Adam's "friend" whenever they show him in the audience, looking like an even gayer version of Bert Reynolds circa Shampoo and clearly stoned for every taping, or at least Brad hopes the guy is stoned, otherwise nothing can ever forgive his hideous fashion choices. And it's not like Adam didn't have plenty of opportunity to tell him about it. They don't talk a lot but they still talk and this seems like something friends would tell each other. Adam's the one who insists that they're friends, that it's important to stay connected, and okay, so maybe Brad doesn't tell Adam about the guys he sees, either, but that's different. Brad's the one who ended things so it's totally different and besides which, Brad doesn't really date. He doesn't do boyfriends.

They broke up three times, but the second ending was the only one that counted because that was the time Brad said, "You're bringing me down," and he maybe meant it at the time, but he took it back later, only Adam never got over it. Brad's pretty sure he never got over it, either, and he still kind of thinks he was right, even if he knows now that they were bringing each other down because life is a highway and highways are two-way streets.

But in the moment it didn't seem that way. He was high and Adam was sober and that never really worked, and he thought being as honest and cruel about things would actually be a kindness. Clean breaks and all that Oprah bullshit. They were in the back alley behind Hyde or Area or whatever club was popular that week and Brad felt amazing and perfect, perfectly amazing, but Adam's fingers were too tight around his wrist and he kept saying, "You're shaking. Do you even fucking know that?"
Brad knew that, of course he fucking knew. He just snorted a bunch of coke so obviously he was shaking and Adam had done it before, it wasn't like he didn't know what it was like even if he didn't approve anymore, even if he had a bad experience a month ago or whatever and suddenly he was all, "Coke is bad, drugs are bad, I wish you'd stop, it's not even fun." Brad knew the truth, though, which was that drugs made Adam feel out of control; they stripped away all the lies he told himself on a daily basis--the next job will be better, I can move to New York whenever I want to, my talent outweighs my physical shortcomings, confidence is about attitude not content--and left him with the simple truth that he was done at twenty-six because he didn't have the balls to even try to make shit happen. He didn't love it enough, whatever 'it' was that week--music, acting, performing, singing--but it was never enough, either. Adam didn't know what he wanted because he didn't love anything enough to really want it, boyfriends included.

Brad twisted his wrist around in Adam's grip, shivering at the burning slide of skin-on-skin like the Indian burns he used to give his sister and staring at the homeless person slumped against the dumpster just far enough away that Brad couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. Like that David Lynch movie with the lesbians and the blue box and Billy Ray Cyrus, who had a show on the Disney Channel now, and wasn't that all just a metaphor for this moment, really?

So he was high and feeling brutally mean and he said, "You're depressed and you're afraid and you're bringing me down. I can't be with someone who gives up before he even really tries, Adam. I can't love someone who's so afraid of failing that he won't even let himself care."

The corners of Adam's mouth tightened into white spots in his face like the permanent dimples on his sister's Cabbage Patch dolls and his eyes lost focus suddenly. He was staring at the homeless person, too, and Brad thought for a moment that they'd walk over there to get a better look, just to see or find out--what, Brad wasn't sure, but it seemed like what they should be doing, exploring the seedy underbelly to get at the truth of things. Instead, Adam turned away and started off toward the opposite end of the alley, pulling Brad along with him, his fingers around Brad's wrist firm but not the deliciously tight grip of a moment ago.

"Didn't you hear me?" Brad said, because obviously Adam had heard him but he kind of expected more of a reaction. Anger or a "fuck you" or something; not this soft, hazy look in his eyes or the quiet way he shrugged and said, "If you're going to break up with me, I'd just rather it not happen with some drunk homeless guy watching and pissing himself, okay?"

At the time, Brad hadn't really thought of it as breaking up; he was high and fucked up and dealing with his own shit. He was about to graduate and he didn't have a job or even a prospect of one, and he could feel Adam becoming resignedly, complacently comfortable in this non-life they were leading, which was enough but it wasn't good. It wasn't even bad, really, more like limbo--like sitting in a doctor's waiting room without actually having an appointment or any chance of your name being called and only Sports Illustrated for entertainment. So he didn't mean for them to break up, but he knows now that it was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do, because he said that Adam was bringing him down, and maybe there was more to it than that but Adam never really tried to call him on it, which only proved Brad's point. Adam never really tried, and they didn't work. Not together.

This is what Brad tells himself week after week, watching Adam on television and purposely smoking up beforehand to prevent himself from analyzing anything too much. Cassidy says, "If you're still in love with him, just fucking tell him already. Drake annoys the shit out of me. I mean, have you seen his shirts? Fucking hideous."

Brad shifts the phone to his left shoulder and takes the last hit from his pipe. "I don't believe in love," he says in an exhale of smoke, and Cassidy laughs, sharp and loud in his ear. On the television screen, someone blurry and male is murdering a disco song. Brad closes his eyes against it.

"Bullshit," Cassidy says. "You believe in astrology. You believe in reincarnation. If you were rich, you'd probably believe in Xenu. Of course you believe in love."

Brad shrugs and lets Ryan Seacrest's voice wash over him like the warmest, smuggest blanket ever invented, says, "I believe in love, but it don't believe in me."

"Don't call me again until you're willing to stop quoting song lyrics and become a useful member of society," Cassidy tells him, "or at least until you talk to Adam. You have to take responsibility for your fucked up shit at some point, Brad."

"I wish you wouldn't call me that," Brad says, but the line is just dead air. Brad falls asleep before Adam's performance and when he wakes up at three in the morning, an infomercial for the Snuggie is on the television and his phone is still open on his chest, but he can't remember who he called or what they talked about, so it probably isn't important, anyway.

*

The third time they broke up, it was almost like a non-issue. Brad never used to believe people when they said things like, "It was a mutual decision," or "We just drifted apart." If those things were true, Brad was pretty sure that those two people were never really in love in the first place because they obviously didn't care enough to try to hold shit together.

Now Brad knows that sometimes love isn't enough. Sometimes you get so tired from trying and fighting what seems inevitable that you just stop. You let go. You drift apart. Sometimes cliches are cliche for a reason, and Brad's pretty sure that his relationship with Adam covered all of them.

Adam called him the Saturday after Thanksgiving at three in the morning, drunk and confused. "When did we break up?" he asked, and Brad had to think about it for a minute before saying, "About a month ago, I think."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Not why did it happen, but why didn't you say anything. Adam's words were slurred and rough and Brad felt the sharpness of them, half-accusation, half-guilt. Adam should feel guilty, Brad thought, for letting this happen. They both should, but Brad was pretty sure that wasn't Adam's version of this guilt, because Adam had always expected this to end, and maybe that's why he never fought very hard to keep it going in the first place. Adam never thought he deserved it, and at that moment, Brad maybe agreed with him a little. It didn't make him feel better, though.

"You never said anything," Adam repeated, and Brad didn't answer because it wasn't a real question; it wasn't even a question for him. He just said goodnight and went back to sleep. Just because Adam had finally stopped to think about shit, that didn't change anything for Brad. They were still broken up and he was still in love with someone who didn't really know how to love him back, and it still really fucking sucked.

*

Despite all evidence to the contrary (ie smoking up almost daily, partying way too much, not having an actual job, and so on), Brad is actually quite busy. Very soon he plans to take over the world, and it turns out that world domination is a full-time job and quite demanding at that. He has videos to film and edit and upload to the fascist state of youtube; he's got songs to record and mix and photoshoots to plan and websites to run and fans to accumulate. He never talks about Adam but he talks around him enough that people start to pay attention, and that was kind of the whole point in the first place. He doesn't consider himself a famewhore, just opportunistic, and anyway, his picture has already been flashed on national television through no effort of his own, so he can't be blamed for taking advantage of Adam's sudden fame. Bill O'Reilly did all the work for him.

He doesn't particularly want to go to the American Idol finale. Not even the finale, but the after party, because Adam only gets a few tickets for the actual show and they're going to his family and the new boyfriend, which is as it should be. At least, that's what Cassidy tells him before going into a long and overly-detailed description of the concept for the jacket he's designing for Adam's final performance and Brad is forced to tune him out, because he loves clothes and he loves fashion, but there are only so many ways to describe rivets before it all just gets repetitively boring.

So Brad isn't planning on going to the after party thing even though he was invited, even though everyone else will be there and Alisan stopped by Thursday karaoke at Hamburger Mary's last week to tell him that Adam really wants him to come. But then the night before the finale, Adam calls him and says, "It won't mean as much if you're not there," and Brad immediately feels like a giant cunt for even doubting him. The guy is calling him after his last-ditch Idol efforts, voice a little raw and a lot tired, and yes, Brad is a total cunt. Adam's never been anything but sincere, even if it was mostly about his lack of sincerity.

"But what if you lose?" Brad says.

"It's not about winning or losing, though. I just wanted to see what would happen, you know? It's like you said that time--the time we broke up in front of that homeless guy?"

"I remember," Brad says. He was a dick that time; it's not really a pleasant memory and he kind of hoped Adam had forgotten it, but apparently not. Being a dick about Adam seems to be a recurring theme in his life.

"I spent so long being afraid of shit. Of basically everything. I wanted to be safe. I wanted to be able to control it all and I told myself that not risking the chance of failure was more important than succeeding could ever be. And so I guess I needed to prove you wrong. And I think." He pauses and laughs a little, softly. "No matter what happens tomorrow, I proved you wrong, so you kind of owe it to me to be there."

*

The first thing that Brad ever told Adam was a lie, a really stupid one, and he's pretty sure that's why their relationship was doomed for inevitable failure, because how can something based on a lie ever amount to anything lasting and strong and healthy and all that other Gay Men Are from Saturn bullshit, even if it did end up being true eventually? It was at a party and Brad was buzzed but not drunk, only two weakish margaritas an hour ago so he was basically almost sober, even, but Adam was completely wasted, cornering him on the fire escape and giving him a long lecture about the importance of getting his astrological chart done.

Brad didn't care about astrology or what his rising sign was or how the position of the planets might affect his job prospects, but he liked the shine of tequila on Adam's bottom lip and wanted to know if his hair was as soft as it looked, so when Adam stared at him expectantly, Brad just said, "I'm totally into astrology," and that was enough. Adam took him home and his lip only tasted like tequila the first time they kissed, but it flushed red and ragged when Brad bit at it until Adam held him down with a wide palm in the center of Brad's chest, so narrow that Adam's fingers lined up along his collarbone and left a necklace of blue-smudged bruises. Brad wasn't even close to being a virgin and he'd been fucked before, he'd even had really good sex before, once he figured out how to go about getting it, but this was completely new. It didn't feel like sex. It didn't even feel like fucking. It was more like ownership and Brad thought, he's drunk and it doesn't matter, but afterward when Brad tried to leave, Adam wrapped his fingers around Brad's wrist like he was trying to give Brad a matching bracelet and said, "Stay."

Brad didn't have anywhere else to be, anyway.

*

When Brad first moved to LA, he thought it would be different. He never pretended that his particular suburban hell upbringing was unique or special; every teenager thinks they have it bad, and every gay teenager thinks it’ll be better in the real world outside the bubble of high school cruelty/country club snobbery/ignorant parents and teachers and pastors who don’t understand and don’t care enough to see them as people instead of missions. They grow up with this idea of "the real world," as if it's somewhere they can get to, as if childhood is some sort of macabre dreamland and the real world will be better because it'll be real. It'll make everything that came before, by definition, fake and therefor meaningless, just preparation for when real life starts at eighteen or whatever.

Except for the part where, in the real world, things didn't really work that way.

And it was hell because high school always is, and Joss Whedon was right about a lot of things but especially the hell part, especially how growing up feels like the end of the world, but Brad knew it wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. He’d never been in the closet, never bothered trying to hide what he was because he was too flaming to get away with it, and he thinks that helped in a way. He had to be himself because he never had a choice. There wasn’t anyone else he could be, and even if most of the people he knew ignored or repressed it, Brad never could. He never wanted to.

Which was why it was so ironic that when he finally escaped, went west, young man, like Hurst and the Village People commanded, well—nothing changed. Technically, LA is different. Technically, people don’t hate him for being him here, and the only person who’s spit on him since he moved here was some drunk chick from a reality show who thought he was hitting on her fake reality show boyfriend. (He was, but that’s not the point.) He can go to a club here and not worry about a raid, and when he walks down the street in women’s lingerie and a wig, he might get hit on or stopped by a middle-aged dude in a BMW looking for a blowjob, but he won’t get his ass kicked, and that’s important. It means something.

So LA is different, in a way, but most of the time Brad thinks it’s just pretending to be different. It’s full of rich people who will never think he’s good enough, just like Dallas, and in a way it’s almost worse, because instead of trying to convert him or save him or whatever, people in LA just pretend that he doesn’t exist. Instead of being honest about their derision, they invalidate and deny and it's like his mother all over again, never acknowledging the gigantic pink elephant in the room, even when it's fucking a second, even gayer pink elephant. LA is its own sort of bubble in a scary, Blue Velvet kind of way, and he's never been blackmailed into having scary sex with Dennis Hopper, but it's pretty horrifying anyway, to finally realize that everything he imagined about the real world was basically a lie he told himself, and it’s not until Candy comes to visit and they’re lying on the cold tile of his kitchen floor passing his pipe back and forth, trying to get as high as humanly possible off an eighth of dro, that he realizes that absolutely nothing has changed. Including him.

"I'm fucking awful," he says, following the jagged line of the crack in his ceiling from its originating spot above the stove until it reaches the cabinets on the opposite wall and spiders out into too many small breaks for his eyes to follow right now, when he's high as balls and feeling completely sorry for his life. "How do I even exist? My hypocrisy knows no bounds."

"Oh my god, whatever," Candy says, knocking the toes of her combat boots together to create a slow, dull rhythm that goes thunk-thunk, thu-thunk like a funeral dirge or a Nine Inch Nails song, but one of the newer ones with no words or melody that barely resemble music at all, not the oldie-goodies, the ones about S&M he used to masturbate to when he was sixteen. "This is not a movie and you're not Doc Holiday or some shit, trying to make Tombstone a better place. And Adam Lambert is for sure not Wyatt Earp. Unless he married a whore when I wasn't paying attention."

"Okay firstly, if this were Tombstone, I'd totally be Kate, not Doc. I'm not a lunger, thanks, and I forgo bustles whenever I need to make a fast getaway."

"How lewd," Candy says. Thunk-thunk go her boots.

"Secondly, Adam would be Johnny Ringo. Cold and heartless and beautiful and perfect." Brad frowns, because that's not quite right in that it's totally the opposite of right, but it's definitely what he wants to believe and his brain is incapable of enforcing reality at the moment.

"And dead," Candy says. "Doc kills him in the end."

"Well, he was no daisy. No daisy at all." He pauses. "Adam is kind of a daisy though. Now. He didn't used to be, though. He used to be kind of retarded, and that was almost better because it made me feel less retarded? And now that he's not so retarded, he's making me look bad in comparison."

Candy rolls her head to look at him, eyes glassy behind her square frame Lisa Loeb glasses that haven't been in fashion since the Backstreet Boys were begging teenage girls to quit playing games with their hearts, says, "Can you even begin to unpack the Betty Draper levels of neuroses in that statement?"

Brad turns his head away, closes his eyes and concentrates on the feel of the cold ceramic against the bare skin of his arms like a chilly embrace, like he's Bella Swan without the suicidal tendencies. He's too high to unpack anything, and anyway, this is supposed to be fun. It's supposed to be a break from all the real world bullshit drama. It's supposed to be about slipping back into Candyland where they were young and (slightly more) innocent and infinitely less jaded, so they can reflect on how much more awesome they are now, because they are adults and real people and didn't everything work out just how they thought it would, but completely different at the same time?

Except it's not like that at all, and Candy's fucking awful glasses are just another reminder of how everything's exactly the same in the worst possible way, because he's exactly the same, and his hypocrisy really does know no bounds.

"You're totally harshing," Brad says, swallowing hard against the scratch of smoke in his throat. "You're no huckleberry at all."

*

Adam never liked the whole name thing, but Brad always thought that was just because Adam never really understood it. Adam was a feeler, not a thinker; he didn't like to argue or debate and the very idea of the politics of self-identity was enough to get him smiling tensely and saying things like, "I try to leave the complicated shit to the smart people."

"You don't think it's important? Like, figuring out who you are and how you fit into the world and how to create a space that maybe doesn't exist in this dinosaur society that is our parents' legacy to us?"

Adam just shook his head and shifted from one foot to the other, one elbow on the kitchen counter with his hand hovering over his keys and a metaphorical foot already out the door along with his brain and his desire to stay here with Brad and Nick and Caroline during any sort of existential-as-applicable-to-real-life discussion. Brad watched blatantly while pretending to stir the pasta as Adam's guilt warred with his own conviction of his stupidity until Adam finally said, "It's not my parents legacy."

"People change their names all the time," Brad said. Adam's thumb brushed the ring on his key chain, snagging the silver hoop and dragging it toward him an infinitesimal amount, like he could possibly hide the whole thing where he was about to run away. Adam was big on avoidance. Brad maybe got high or drunk to forget shit more than he should, but he preferred that to self-imposed ignorance any day.

"For personal reasons, though. Like Angelina Jolie or Emilio Estevez wanting to get jobs based on their talent and not their parents' reputations. This isn't really the same."

"Names are important. Names have power. Names label things, and seriously, do you really think I can allow myself to continue to be labeled by my parents, who won't even acknowledge that I exist most of the time, much less my true self?"

Adam's fingers closed around his keys, and Brad knew he was lost. "Maybe," Adam said. He shrugged, eyes vague and far off. "I don't know. This isn't really my thing."

Now, when Brad watches Adam on TV or reads interviews or whatever, he thinks that maybe Adam is starting to get it--the idea of a persona, of embodying a concept that is more you than you could ever hope to be in everyday life, the compulsion to define yourself and not let your past determine your future. He thinks Adam is starting to get it, finally, but the Rolling Stone interview still comes as a revelation to Brad. It's different seeing proof in newsprint. And he knew Adam was going to talk about him, he knew there would be pictures because Adam made sure they got his permission and all, but having the hard evidence of Adam's evolution in his mailbox is still kind of freaky. It's kind of fucked up, and it kind of fucks Brad up, too.

"Get over yourself," Parker advises him, stealing a fry from Brad's plate that he chews with his mouth open just to obnoxious. "He clearly has, and it's not about you anymore. It's called growing up. You should try it sometime. You might learn something." Parker reaches across the table to steal another fry, but Brad smacks him on the hand sharply the way his mother used to do when he was a kid, only she'd say, "It's impolite to reach across the table, Brad. Always pass from left to right." Brad wants to eat his own fries, though, damnit. He didn't wait twenty minutes for a booth to open up so Parker could eat his food.

"Cassidy thinks he wants to get back together," Brad says. "Cassidy says the new boyfriend is just window dressing to get people to leave him alone about who he's dating and all that shit."

"Cassidy is just as deluded as you are," Parker says, rolling his eyes. "If you want my Psych 101 analysis, you're all so sickeningly in love with each other that it's just a co-dependent clusterfuck of retardedness waiting to explode."

"I'm pretty sure I never want your Psych 101 analysis," Brad says. He stares down at his plate, a shiny cream circle sullied with blobs of color--the brown-yellow pool of mustard, the slightly congealed mass of ketchup, the golden crisp of fries and the pink and purple stripes that flash on and off over everything, reflections from the neon sign hanging over their booth, proclaiming, "Sorry, we're open!" He pushes the plate towards Parker. He's not hungry anymore, and he doesn't want to think about this.

Parker's never right about anything, anyway.

*

Brad has seen every episode of Buffy at least three times, even the really shitty ones about gigantic cannibalistic insects or creepy robot John Ritter and his closet of dead wives, so when Rachel says, "I think we need to discuss this Evil Veiny Willow Place you're falling into," Brad knows she's serious. He knows it's serious, this is all Serious Business of the highest order, and he would totally pay attention because he doesn't want to be in the Evil Veiny Willow Place pretty much ever, especially if it means only wearing black or becoming a lesbian, except that he's much too busy puking to really concentrate. Instead, he just presses his cheek against the cold porcelain of the toilet and hopes the room will decide to stop spinning any moment now. It's just really unpleasant, and not very nice of the room, of which Brad thinks he's taken very good care these past two years of habitation.

"Did you hear me?" Rachel's voice is cold and the toe of her boot stings sharply against his calf when she nudges him. "The Evil Veiny Willow Place, Brad. And you know I love you, but I don't love your puke or almost getting us arrested or the way you treat people when you're like this."

Her voice shakes a little on the last couple words and Brad opens his eyes, looks up at her sitting on the edge of the bathtub, her eyes clenched closed tightly like tiny fists in her pale face. Brad heard her, he did. He wants to hear her. But it's hard when he feels like he's dying.

He says, "I love you, too," and then he's puking again. It feels like his whole body is emptying itself, purging the toxins and leaving him a hollowed-out husk, ready to be filled with something else, something better, something that isn't trying its best to kill him. He wishes there were something like that for his brain, some way to scoop out the uncategorized mess in there, so he could have another chance to get it right, like a start over button that could somehow turn him into a person he liked or actually wanted to be, instead of this fake non-thing he's transformed himself into.

Two weeks ago, he was with Adam. Two weeks ago, Adam was waiting for him when he got home from the after-after party of seeing Adam at the Staples Center. Two weeks ago, Adam was sitting on the aqua and maroon patterned carpeting of the stairway leading up to Brad's apartment, waiting for him and smiling a little and saying, "I just needed to be somewhere that felt like home."

Adam never lived here, they never lived together, but Brad knew what he meant anyway. It wasn't a 'where' at all, but a familiarity, a sense of the universe being right somehow just because you were with someone who just knew without being told. Brad nodded and unlocked the door, and even though he knew Adam had a boyfriend, knew they'd gone to Santa Barbara on holiday together like they were Bridget Jones and Hugh Grant or some shit, knew that Adam really liked the guy and Brad should tell him to go back to his hotel or his bus or wherever he was supposed to be that was pretty much anywhere but here--even though Brad knew, he didn't care. Because Adam was different now, Adam had proved him wrong, and that changed everything. It mattered. Brad wanted to prove it, too.

He let Adam in and he let Adam kiss him, let himself fall back into their old ways, let Adam push him to his knees and press him back against the wall, let Adam fuck his mouth until the world narrowed to just this: the feel of Adam around him and inside him and through him, and it felt like home, just like Adam said it would. Because this was the part they'd always been good at; this was the only thing that ever felt easy or right or perfect about them together, when the world went away and it was just the two of them and nothing else mattered. It felt like freedom and safety and release, like Brad knew his place in this world, could see how everything fit together into one brilliant mosaic with them at the center, radiating.

Afterward, though, Adam looked down at him, sprawled against the wall with come on his fingers from jerking himself off, and said his name in a way that Brad knew really meant, "I'm so fucking sorry." Brad never hated his name more than when Adam said it with that sad, surprised look in his eyes. Adam didn't say anything else, just his name in that horrible fucking way, and when he turned to go, Brad grabbed his wrist tight like he was trying to leave a mark, said, "Stay."

Adam didn't look at him when he said, "I wish I could, but it's not right yet. I thought maybe--but it's not," and when Adam left, he didn't look back.

Two weeks ago, Brad failed at a test he didn't even know he was taking at the time, and now he can't decide who he hates more: himself, or Adam. But he's the only one that's here and he's the one that he can punish. He's the one that deserves it, anyway, and sometimes Brad wonders if he really is such a manipulative fuck that he'd arrange his own rock bottom fucking pathetic moment of clarity like he was living in a Lifetime movie about how Drugs And Booze Are Bad, except instead of Tori Spelling he's got Rachel with her fists-for-eyes, punishing him even more with how she actually cares, even after all these things that he's done.

"I don't want to be in the Evil Veiny Willow Place," he says, his voice hoarse and thin. He swallows against the burn of stomach acid in his throat and shifts until he can lay his cheek against her knee instead of the toilet. He closes his eyes. He's so tired. Of everything. He's just so fucking exhausted.

Her fingers are cool against the back of his neck when she says, "Then don't be."

*

Brad doesn't go to Burning Man.

It hurts. It's weird how much it hurts because he didn't think it was all that important to him and last year was kind of awful; last year he and Adam were all but broken up but he was the only one who knew it. Him and Neil, who cornered Brad in his tent during an acid trip, wrapped an arm around Brad's upper arm so tightly he left a thumb-shaped bruise on the delicate skin of Brad's inner arm, said, "You really fucked him up, you know that, right?"

For a second, Brad thought Neil was going to kiss him, and it was a very strange moment of being utterly repulsed and fascinated at the same time. Neil wasn't unattractive but he wasn't Brad's type, either, and even though they were the same age, Brad still felt infinitely older, and maybe he was. Neil didn't grow up gay in suburban Dallas; Neil didn't have to go to church every Sunday with his family and listen to some red-faced white guy attempt to invalidate everything Brad knew to be true about himself while his mother watched his face for any signs of redemption, her fingers knuckle-white tight around her hymnal.

Brad just looked at Neil and said, "I know. If I didn't love him, I wouldn't have bothered."
It was only right, Brad thinks, that it ended at Burning Man, because that's where it started, really. They'd been together, kind of, before that. They'd fucked a few times and gotten high a few times and almost ended before they began because Brad didn't know how to take shit seriously; he didn't know at nineteen that he didn't have to be a cliche that fucked any hot guy he could, so he almost fucked it up, but at Burning Man none of that mattered. At Burning Man, lying on his back in the sand staring up at the night sky, the stars like pin pricks against the pure blackness, cracks where the light gets through, Brad thought, and Adam's fingers laced in between his until Brad couldn't tell which hand was his--at Burning Man he felt the reality of his own small, unimportant existence.

"You're important to me," Adam said, quietly beneath the din of the drum circle beating out a frenzied rhythm at the edge of camp, like a secret.

"It's not a bad thing, being insignificant," Brad said. "It's freedom, you know? No expectations, no obligations or pressures. I could do anything and it would be an accomplishment as long as it satisfies me, because no one else gives a fuck."

"I give a fuck," Adam said, and turned his head to look at Brad, teeth flashing white in a sharp smile.

Brad didn't just fuck Adam up. He knows this. He knows exactly how low he is and maybe he's not at the Evil Veiny Willow Place yet, but he's getting there fast, he's picking up momentum. His birthday comes and goes and he's twenty-four now, he's almost old and he hasn't accomplished anything, or at least not anything that wasn't directly linked to Adam. Cassidy says there's nothing wrong with that. Cassidy tells him that's what fame is, and Adam is happy to bring them along if he can, and Brad nods like he's agreeing, but he knows better because he remembers what he told Adam that night in the alley and he's knows it's still true, even if it's not true about Adam anymore. Even if he's just talking about himself, now.

Even if maybe he always was to begin with.

The morning after his birthday, hungover with the taste of last night's martinis still on his tongue and last night's hookup still sleeping in his bed, Brad looks at himself in the mirror and thinks, what a fucking cliche. "Today," he tells his reflection, "is the first day of the rest of your life." He could maybe do something with it, for a change. It's an idea, anyway.

*

Brad gets a job at a straight bar all the way out near Malibu where no one knows who he is and anyone who did wouldn't give a shit anyway. He takes day shifts so he can work on his script, and it's hard at first because he thought he knew what the story was about, but it turns out to be completely different, not anything like 500 Days of Summer, even without the redemptive cheesy ending. It's more like Blue Velvet or a Dickens novel; circus freaks and masturbatory coming-of-age metaphors and learning how to be a person in a world that's scarier than he ever imagined.

The real world, it turns out, is completely different from high school after all, and not in the way he thought when he was a kid doing everything he could to leave. It's hard and it hurts but it's good, too. He's learning and growing, Brad thinks. He's figuring shit out, or at least he's figuring himself out, and that's kind of important. It's maybe the most important thing he's ever done.

He takes a week off at Christmas to fly to Dallas to visit his mom. She got the house in the divorce and his old room has a treadmill in it now, but it's pretty much exactly the same as when he left. He's been back a few times since he moved to LA, but not often and never more than once a year, because as much as he knows that LA isn't any better, there's just something about this place and these people that make him feel like a stranger in his own skin. He's always surprised by how little anything changes. The HEB is exactly the same, the lawns are still perfectly manicured and the people still lose all ability to drive at the slightest hint of weather. His parents are exactly the same--distant, absent father, mother in denial, and him hiding in his bedroom with the stash of weed he left beneath the loose knob on the bed post, trying to escape.

On Christmas Eve after his mom has gone to bed, lying beneath the gigantic white plastic monstrosity of a Christmas tree his mother has set up in the living room, watching the blue lights flash in slow fades of smoky light between the metal branches, Brad calls Adam. Adam doesn't pick up; the phone doesn't even ring, just goes straight to voicemail, but that's kind of what Brad expected because Adam is important now, Adam has a life and a career and he's not going to answer his phone at two in the morning, not even when it's Brad calling, or maybe especially then.

"I just wanted to say that I miss you and I love you, and you totally proved me wrong. And just--I want you to be happy, you know? Be happy, Adam. I'm not sorry because I think, you know, everything turned out how it was supposed to in the end, so I'm not apologizing, I'm just saying. Be happy. Because you deserve it."

Brad falls asleep under the tree with his phone on his chest, and when he wakes up the next morning, there's a text from Adam that says, "So do you." More than anything, Brad wants to believe that it's true.

*

It's two thirty on a Wednesday afternoon in January when Brad finishes his screenplay. He pours himself a large glass of cheap white wine from the fridge beneath the bar to celebrate, and he's not even sure if it's good or meaningful or if it even has a point, but he kind of doesn't care either way. The point was never really the story; he just wanted to create something true. He wanted to make something that felt real for once, without some sort of ulterior motive or ambition--just to tell a story that wasn't cute or perfect or perfectly flawed in that oh-so-precious Indie way, but actually said something real about him as a person like everyone else. An unimportant, small person who maybe doesn't get the dream job and become instantly famous and recognized for his talent. Someone who doesn't even get the boy in the end, but he'll be okay and he'll be fine because that's what real life is.

He finishes his wine and sets his glass down on the bar next to his laptop, watching the cursor blink on the 'd' in 'end,' wondering if that's the sort of declaration that needs a period, or if it's more meta to leave it hanging incomplete. The sun is streaming through the colored glass in the Coors Light window to the left of the door, a soft butter yellow that highlights a stream of dust mites swimming through the air to the scratched wood flooring. The door chimes and a guy walks in, takes off his sunglasses, and smiles.

It's Adam, and Brad thinks, this isn't real life at all, this isn't how life goes, but then Adam leans forward, elbows on the bar and shoulders hunched around his ears, eyes wide and clear, says, "I was looking for you," and Brad wishes he hadn't just downed a glass of wine because this is real. It's perfectly real.

Brad smiles back, because he's scared out of his mind, because he doesn't believe in love, because he's spent the past year and a half fucking around and it was maybe a waste but it was important, too. Because even if this isn't his unperfectly mundane ending, it's real life, and he's happy. "You found me," he says. He's an Indie cliche after all, but it's better than being a parody, and anyway, at least it's totally and completely true.

The End

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i thought about catnapping today

2009-11-27T22:42:47Z

There's this adorable cat that always comes up to me when I pull into my parking spot, and it doesn't have a collar and I really want to steal it, but it doesn't look unhealthy or starved or anything, so it's probably got an owner. *sadface* Max needs a friend! He gets lonely without me. Truefax.

Anyway, I've been really lamesauce about posting lately. But I finished my fic for queenbitchfest in time! I was maybe high when I wrote the ending, but so far no one has noticed. Now I just have my charity fic to finish (yes, still!) and my holiday exchange fic to write. It's so hard to write when I could be playing Puzzle Fighter, is the thing. Siiiigh.

Here's a meme, so that I'm not totally useless, and also because I know y'all want to know allll about me.

1. First Name: Andrea

2. Age: 29 (omg I'm so old :/ )

3. Location: ATX WOOOOO.

4. Occupation: web content manager/admin/bitch for the English Department at UT Austin.

5. Partner: I don't believe in partners? Um. I'm dating this guy. He's pretty awesome. I try not to think about it too much because a) dating scares me and b) I don't want to like... jinx it. The more I think about something, the more self-conscious and insecure I become about it, so it's better if I just pretend it isn't happening. Freaking out is bad. It's unpleasant. It is so not very.

6. Kids: No, thank you. Well, that's not quite true. If I were rich and could support someone other than myself and my cat, I'd be willing to adopt older kids who have no change of getting adopted. I'm not so much a baby person. Babies scare me, and also, I am never getting pregnant or birthing a baby unless very large sums of money are involved.

7. Brothers/Sisters: I have an older sister. She's almost 8 years older. She lives in Ohio, and she's a writer. Go buy her book, Butterbabe, available in the UK.

8. Pets: I have a cat. He's retarded, but adorable. And I mean actually retarded. He's his own first cousin. Or uncle, or something. His parents were siblings. He's gigantic and falls out of windows and makes babies cry with his giganticness.

9. List the 3-5 biggest things going on in your life:

a) Work. Work is kind of crazy and has been since September. That's the real reason I've been so lamesauce lately. I used to write at work so much, but now I have to actually work at work. Work accidentally my fandom, you guys. It is sadtimes.

b) I'm dating that guy. Which is big because it means I interact with people on a regular basis. I leave my house. That's pretty crazy for me.

c) OMG, I know nothing happens with me when I realize there's only 2 things going on with me. Sorry, I fail.

10. Parents: My dad was born in 1921. He was a Jew, he was in the Pacific Theatre during WW2, he was a tech sergeant in the Air Force. He was 25ish years older than my mom, who he met at work. After he retired from the Air Force (right before Vietnam, I believe), he got a job at the Department of Health and Human Services (welfare department) as a case worker. That's where he met my mom. My mom grew up in Toledo, went to all girls Catholic schools her whole life until college, when her parents told her she could only go if she got a degree in nursing or teaching. She did neither. She got a degree in English and history, I think, and then dated a series of inappropriate men, including a member of the Lebanese royal family, to whom she was engaged until he cheated on her. She kept the ring. It's like a 4-carat ruby. Very nice.

Then she met my dad. Another inappropriate man, because her father was VERY Catholic and the whole part where my dad was Jewish (and also older than my grandmother) did not go over that well. But my mom always gets what she wants (no, seriously), and so they got married, etc etc. My dad died when I was 16. That was really hard... it was like a year of really hard, because he was hospitalized for most of my 15th year. It's still really hard, to be honest. I have a lot of dreams about him.

My mom is great, though. She writes porn and she loves Adam Lambert and Britney Spears and House. She's a good mom.

11. Who are some of your closest friends: wendy, musicboxgirl, llamabitchyo, and madame_d, on LJ. In "real life" I definitely have close friends, but most of them don't really get me the way my LJ friends do. And I don't talk to them (or sometimes see them) as much as I do my LJ friends, either. I don't think I'm any of their first choices to hang out. It's definitely one of those things where I distanced myself from them because I was tired of feeling hurt that our friendships were more like one-way streets where I did all the giving. It's still like that with a lot of my RL friends. They're busy with boyfriends or girlfriends or school; they don't even think to call or email me to hang out because they haven't seen me in a few months, or whatever. I have this rejection/abandonment fear, probably because of the whole dead dad thing, and sometimes I just feel like I'm maybe too sensitive for normal human interaction. I definitely try to keep myself apart, not get too invested in people, because I'm sick of being hurt by negligence or whatever.

Um, so as not to leave this on a downer--my LJ friends are amazing and I love you all. Part of why I love fandom is the community aspect of it. I love feeling like there's a group of people out there who are excited about the same things I am, who won't mock me for loving something silly like American Idol, who are supportive of each other and who produce amazing fic and art to entertain us. I heart you all.

And that reminds me--time to go finish that post-apocalyptic future fic posted at queenbitchfest OMGOMGOMG.

an open letter to the world

2009-11-18T17:55:10Z

Dear World (but mostly just LJ)-

I haven't checked my flist in a few days, and apparently that was cue for you to all jump on the Crazy Train with a one-way ticket to CrazyTown, located just south of LazyTown and all those scary plastic people/singing pedos with plastic mustaches. Seriously, world. What the fuck.

While I've been slaving away at my queenbitch fic and actually, you know, working at work, the world has lost it's fucking mind. Miley Cyrus hates Twilight and called Nick Jonas gay, both of which are two of the truest things young Miley has ever done, and people are jumping all over her for it. She called the dude gay! Not as in "he's so retarded, he's gay" but as in "he's so gay, he wants to fuck ~~his much hotter middle brother~~ other dudes, or at least hold their hands like a good Christian boy." It's not an insult. It's a statement of fact. And yeah, she sang it in her AMAZING AND AWESOME song, 7 Things, which in part is about the 7 things Miley hates/loves about Nick Jonas, but like, come ON. If you're a 16-year-old girl, you're probably not going to list "being a 'mo" as one of the things you love about your ex-boyfriend. Just saying.

(Also, I love her for hating Twilight. She doesn't like vampires or werewolves. And yet, the world keeps turning. This, too, we will survive.)

Lady Gaga put out the best video I have ever seen in my life, including "Me Against the Music," which I still think is so subversive and brilliant and Britney's dancing is fucking amazing and she totally wants to fuck Madonna but she doesn't get to because her world doesn't work that way and she never gets the shit she really wants because it's her AGAINST the music, which simultaneously gives and takes away all her freedoms. Um, anyway. BAD ROMANCE!! IS AMAZING!!!!!! OMG. And she wears the Alexander McQueen shoes!!! From the alien runway!!

And now, let's talk about Adam Lambert. I know that the kids at ontd_ai are beyond cray-cray over the whole Out editor's letter to Adam, and I get it, but I haven't been over there and I haven't read any reactions to it other than Adam's tweets and HuffPo's hilarious parody, so here are my untainted thoughts:

I think it's ridiculous for the editor to write an open letter to a singer who hasn't even dropped his first album yet to tell him that he's the Great Gay Hope, whether he wants to be or not. But whatever, it's his magazine, and letters like that are common enough. But the timing? Seriously inappropriate. This letter should've gone in the next issue of Out, and not been posted on the same day that Adam's full interview was up for readers. Additionally, it made the editor look a bit silly, because he's saying that 19E wanted Adam to appear "less gay," but the interview is all about how gay Adam is. The fact is, I see the editor's point, but I think he's addressing the wrong person. Adam clearly doesn't know he's supposed to be less gay, and if he does, he's not complying with that directive.

As for Adam's tweets in response, I get why people are upset that he's seemingly dismissing the open letter as a publicity stunt, but in a way, I kind of agree. The editor didn't attempt to have a conversation with Adam about the situation with his management before writing his letter. Neither, apparently, did the interviewer say to Adam, "Dude, your publicist just told me not to make you too gay." The fact is, yes, these are important issues facing LGBT folks, and we should definitely talk about the de-fagging of us in mainstream media. But these aren't important issues to Adam, and that is his prerogative. So it's "not that deep" to him because he doesn't want to talk about the issues, he doesn't want to be vocally political, he doesn't want to be anyone's posterboy. He just wants to do his thing and be himself and get really fucking famous and rich, AND THAT IS TOTALLY VALID.

I saw all this going on with Lance when he came out, and you know what? It took The Advocate over a year to put Lance on their cover, and Lance was actually doing political shit. Lance got treated like crap in the gay media. The gay media elite are always going on about how more famous people need to come out, blah blah--but then they treat those gay famous people like crap while simultaneously pressuring them not to be more activist or more gay or whatever, but to be more THEIR kind of gay.

The fact is, Out is failing. It's already gone bankrupt and been bought a couple times over, I think. So when Adam says that Out is doing this for publicity, he's probably not that far off. They NEED something. I just think it's sad they feel like they have to try to box in and give marching orders to someone they claim to admire as a "breakout" star.

On the other hand, I think this will only boost Adam's visibility and help him sell records. So it's a win-win, really. Out sells magazines because of the controversy, and Adam sells records because his fans feel like he's being attacked and they want to prove to Out just how wrong it is.

What I really want to know is, where the fuck is Adam's video, and is he going to be performing on late night talk shows this week? PLEASE??? I know there's Billboard on Sunday. Monday? Whenever. And that's nice and all. But I want to see Adam perform as much as possible forever and ever, so say we all.

I'm sure there are other things I should be talking about, like placenta facials and how I actually have a social life now and also how you are ALL FIRED (I hate when people write that, but it's fun to say and also, to be a hypocrite) for not telling me how awesome The Venture Brothers is. I mean, I have to get high to understand it, and I totally thought that the Monarch was a bee for forever, but still. It's pretty much the gayest show on Earth, and I want to be Dr. Girlfriend when I grow up, minus the lame boyfriend.

And that's it, that's all I have, unicorns kill ponies and "best of the aughts" lists are already pissing me off.

xoxo-
Andrea

help!

2009-11-06T21:29:15Z

I need someone to read what I have for my Queen Bitch fic and tell me honestly if it sucks or not. It's NOT finished and I have no idea how much longer it will get, but I don't think I'll have time for a trufax beta as it's already 4000 words and I haven't gotten anywhere close to the point yet.

I just need a status check--what's working, what isn't, can you see what direction I'm going in, is it a worthwhile direction to head, etc.

It's Adam/Brad, and it's from Brad's POV. And since it's me, nothing actually happens.

Comment here with your email address and I will send you a googledocs invite if I get it before I leave work in 30 minutes. Comments will be screened for your protection.

(Please, someone say yes. OMG.)

ETA: I got people, thanks!!!

halloween pics!

2009-11-03T14:51:08Z

Someone finally uploaded some Halloween pics and I'm so excited that there are actually pictures of me this year. I'm still waiting for other people to upload theirs, but here are a few just to show off how awesome my costume was:

(You have to click on the pics to make them big. I don't want to risk photobucket after the ungestion diagram fiasco. BOO YOU WHORE, PHOTOBUCKET.)

Sarah as Cruella. Her costume was pretty damn amazing, I have to admit. And ironic, since she's a vegetarian and all.

You might be thinking that the tea cup is just decoration, part of my Lady Gaga costume. But no. I drank cider from it. WIN.

Me, Brooke, and Sarah. Yes, my eyes are closed, all the better to see the massive amounts of eye makeup I had on. I even did false eyelashes with sequins on them. OMG those were a bitch to get on! I wish there was a picture of me with my veil down. I created a veil from a black sparkly headband and blue netting I cut off my tutu. It was kind of amazing.

You might be wondering what Brooke is dressed as. Remember David the Gnome? Remember how he had a fox he rode around on? Well, she found a backpack that is a gnome doll... so she went as the fox. How adorable is that??

Me and Brooke. Look, those cookies were freaking amazing. Peppermint chocolate or something! Yesterday my doctor asked me why I'm losing so much weight, and I wanted to be like, "I don't know because I spent all weekend eating cookies and jelly bellies!!!"

One last pic. I love this picture. I look good in it, which is not something you will hear me say very often. I usually don't even let people take pics of me... except on Halloween. People kept telling me they didn't realize it was ME. Like, they figured out who I was supposed to be, but they didn't realize until they started talking to me that I was Andrea. LOL FOREVER. I do look pretty different as a blond. Which is ironic considering the number of Halloweens I've spent with pink hair, and yet no one had any problems recognizing me. I think the boots helped, too, since they made me like half a foot taller. I love those boots. I really need more occasions to wear silver spiked platform boots from the future! Plus, there are zippers on both sides of the boots, and I only discovered the day after the party that the zippers on the outsides are functional. They reveal tiny pockets. I am pretty sure they're for condoms, and that my boots are actually silver spiked platform HOOKER boots from the future, but whatever. It fits. Lady Gaga would totally say she's a whore for her art.

I, on the other hand, am a much cheaper version as a whore for cookies. NOMNOMNOM.

kary said I had to do it

2009-11-02T22:38:12Z

musicboxgirl tagged me, and I haven't posted in ages and I don't want to do any more data entry right now, sooooo.

PHABALLOLOGY

THE RULES: Once you have been tagged, you are supposed to wipe out my answers and supply your own. After, choose at least 10 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If you were tagged, it's because I want to know more about you.
Love,
Andrea ♥♥

Let others know a little more about yourself! Re-post this as your name followed by "ology".

***********FOODOLOGY******

1. What is your salad dressing of choice?
Garlic Expressions. Or no salad. Just bacon.

2. What is your favorite sit-down restaurant?
It depends on what I'm in the mood for. But my favorite sit-down restaurant ever in the universe is probably Schmucker's, in Toledo, because they have amazing milkshakes and chicken noodle soup with home-made noodles, and peanut butter pie.

3. What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of?
BACON.

4. What are your pizza toppings of choice?
Hmmm. I like pesto instead of sauce. Central Market used to make this awesome apple and gorganzola pizza. I like goat cheese. And green peppers.

5.What do you like to put on your toast?
Cinnamon and sugar.

***********TECHNOLOGY*****

1. How many televisions are in your house?
1

2. What color cell phone do you have?
grey

3. How many computers are in your house?
3, but one is my IBM ~~doorstop~~ ThinkPad that I bought in 1999, so it doesn't count. It still turns on, but that's about all it's capable of.

4. Have any idea how many Megahertz your computer has?
I'm sure I know. Or I can find out. I just don't care. Not enough to play the Sims 3, and really, that's all that matters.

***************BIOLOGY****

1. Are you right-handed or left-hand?
Right handed.

2. Have you ever had anything removed from your body?
Um... like foreign objects that got stuck or something??? What a freaky question. No, I don't think so. I've had the shredded bits of my knee cartilage sucked out. And I had to get my belly button piercing removed because it wouldn't heal.

3. What is the last heavy item you lifted?
My mattress.

4. Have you ever been knocked unconscious?
Ha. Yes. I slipped on the metal bleachers at my elementary school, hit my head on the corner and blacked out. I had a concussion and had to get 4 stitches in my head and wasn't allowed to eat pizza that night for some reason, which really annoyed me.

************BULLCRAPOLOGY*

1. If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die?
No, thank you. I'd rather enjoy everyday like it could be my last. I seriously think that I would be so preoccupied with knowing the date that I would forget to just enjoy the days leading up to it.

2. If you could change your name, what would you change it to?
I love my name.

3. Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for £1000?
I don't know if I *could* but I would try.

************DUMBOLOGY*****

1. How many pairs of flip flops do you own?
3

2. Last time you had a run-in with the cops?
A few weeks ago, actually. I had left my car at Sarah's apartment complex so we could drive to a show downtown together, but then we had to pick up her boyfriend up North because he was super drunk and couldn't meet us, and then she decided to stay and Catsilo took me back to Sarah's to get my car. Sarah's apartment complex has a gated entrance, but she claimed we could call her from it and she would be able to let us in from her phone. Except she didn't answer her phone! So we were just sitting there like, "...what NOW??" when a cop pulled up behind us. We tried Sarah again, to no avail. Finally Catsilo got out to talk to the cop, who let us in with his emergency code or whatever.

So it was actually a good run-in, unlike all those other times when I had to cry and look pathetic to get my way.

3. Last person you talked to?
Out loud? A student about her time sheet.

4. Last person you hugged?
Catsilo. Or Max. Depending on your definition of "person".

**************FAVORITOLOGY

1. Season?
Fall

2. Holiday?
Christmas. Even though I don't believe in God.

3. Day of the week?
Saturday, day of racquetball!

4. Month?
July

***********CURRENTOLOGY***

1. Missing someone?
Not really. Sometimes I miss the idea of people.

2. Mood?
Exhausted. Ready to sleep for 10 years.

3. What are you listening to?
Lately, Britney's '3', For Your Entertainment, Veruca Salt, and Frente!

4. Watching?
Fuck, there are too many things to list. Tonight I will be watching Dexter, and possibly Stargate Universe.

***************RANDOMOLOGY

1. First place you went this morning?
Doctor's office.

2. What's the last movie you saw?
The Nines. Which was this weird, Mulholland Drive-esque filn with Ryan Reynolds and Sookie from Gilmore Girls and Elle Fanning. But it was good. No lesbians, though.

3. Do you smile often?
Depends on if I have a reason! I think so, though. I smile at strangers on the bus.

***************OTHEROLOGY*

1. Do you always answer your phone?
I never answer my phone, unless I think someone might be dying.

2.It's 4 in the morning and you get a text message who is it ?
My sister, drunk texting.

3. If you could change your eye color what would it be?
They would change color with my mood and also I could communicate telepathically with unicorns and other mythical creatures.

4. What flavor do you add to your drink at Sonic?
I've only ever had a cherry limeade, which was Friday night, actually!

5. Do you own a digital camera?
Nope.

6. Have you ever had a pet fish?
Yes, he was called Mr Fish.

7. Favorite Christmas song(s):
MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!! OMG. Feel the love in the room from the floor to the ceiling!

8. What's on your wish list for your birthday?
Ummmm. I don't really like *things*. I want to have a roller skating party. Yes, I am 12.

9. Can you do push ups?
Sure.

10. Can you do a chin up?
Probably not.

11. Does the future make you more nervous or excited?
I guess I don't really think about it? I just want to move. I hate my apartment. I'm a bit nervous about my job... not so much that I might lose it, but that I won't get a raise for 3 years and I'll have to find a new one :/

12. Do you have any saved texts?
Sure, but just because they're in my inbox. I'll delete them eventually.

13. Ever been in a car wreck?
Yes :(

14. Do you have an accent?
I have a midwestern accent that no one ever noticed until I moved to Texas and people started asking me if I was Canadian.

15. What is the last song to make you cry?
Fifteen by Taylor Swift.

16. Plans tonight?
Going to Castle Greybeard to watch Dexter and SGU with Eric. And then sleeping forever.

17. Have you ever felt like you hit rock bottom?
Yes indeed.

18. Name 3 things you bought yesterday?
Pizza bites. And that's it, actually. I got quarters to do laundry, if that counts.

19. Have you ever been given roses?
Yes. Actually, when I had knee surgery when I was 20, my then-boyfriend sent me roses. It was sweet. Of course, I was way too high on percoset and in way too much pain to appreciate them, but still.

20. Current worry?
My job is driving me a bit crazy at the moment. And I'm worried about more personal stuff, about dating and hurting people and getting hurt. I worry about my mom and my sister and their health and if they're okay.

21. Current hate right now?
Liberal Arts ITS and the Texas State Legislature, for freezing my salary while simultaneously creating a shitton of new work for me.

22. Met someone who changed your life?
I think everyone I meet changes my life in some way.

23. How will you bring in the New Year?
Party, probably.

24. What song represents you?
Hmmm. I'm going to go with "Hovering Sombrero" by TMBG

25. Name three people who might complete this.
...no.

26. Would you go back in time if you were given the chance?
Sure. I want to meet Jesus.

27. Have you ever dated someone longer than a year?
Yes.

28. Does anyone love you?
Everyone loves me. I'm infinitely lovable.

29. Ever had someone sing to you?
Ummmm. Probably?

30. When did you last cry?
I can't remember... it was probably watching Grey's Anatomy, though.

31. Do you like to cuddle?
Not really? Sometimes. I have to be in the mood. Or really cold.

32. Have you held hands with anyone today?
No.

33. Are most of the friends in your life new or old?
Yes.

34. Do you like pulpy orange juice?
GROSS.

35. Where do you see yourself in 5 years?
No idea, but I'm sure I will be just as awesome as always.

I'm supposed to tag people, but I need to go home now, so oh well. Stay tuned for Halloween pics. I've seen some of me as Lady Gaga and they are freaking AMAZING. I've never been so happy with how a costume turned out. People told me they didn't realize it was ME in the costume. I do look really different with blond hair.

Plus, bonus surprise costume of awesomeness on Saturday night, which you will all find vastly amusing and, I suspect, understand a lot more than the people at the party did.

strange request

2009-10-26T13:44:24Z

This is going to sound really weird but... does anyone happen to have the diagram I made for Fairy Tale? The one from the Handbook, showing the ungestion sack? Because I made my photobucket public for like 5 minutes and some fucktard reported that pic as being in violation! I don't see HOW, but whatever. And I made the manip at work, and didn't save it because, well. It's my work computer and a weird manip of the fairy reproductive system is probably not appropriate for the work place or whatever, so I have to get rid of the evidence.

So please, if you happened to have randomly saved that pic, can you send it to me? I would love you forever.

xoxo

it's like that pearl jam song

2009-10-23T17:58:20Z

Contrary to popular belief, I am still alive!

Things at work have slowed down from the OMGOMGOMG pace of the past month or so, but I still have more to do than usual and not a lot of time (sadly) to spend on the internets. I'm improving, though! I am caught up on my flist (helps that I took ontd_ai off) and I even started writing both my Queen Bitch and my Donors Choose fics. I WIN AT LIFE, YAY!

On the downside of work stuff, I'm not getting a raise this year. Not even a cost-of-living adjustment. The University has found itself in a budget crisis of sorts, and all the departments have been asked to cut their budgets by 15% or something, which is not easy by any means. There was an article in the Austin-American Stateman about how the University plans to deal with the cutbacks, so it's not a secret anymore and I can finally talk about how the English department is going to have to cut support to graduate students (which will basically decimate the viability of the graduate program, and ours is one of the best in the country, by the way) and also fire lecturers. The Chair at first proposed we get rid of the foreign language requirement which would enable us to fire a ton of lecturers; she proposed that to prove a point to the president, that cutting that much money from the second largest department (but not nearly the second-best supported) in the University is ridiculous. Especially when they're building a brand new liberal arts building which WON'T HOUSE ENGLISH despite the building we're in right now basically falling apart around us.

Anyway... what this means is that everything is very political here right now. We have to give merit raises to faculty, and the Chair doesn't want to give any raises in a year when staff aren't getting raises. My job is pretty secure (luckily) because I'm the only person who knows how to do what I do, but it's still nerve-wracking and I don't know what'll happen next year.

On the other hand, I found out that if I apply for Income Based Repayment on my student loans, I can reduce my payments by $25/month and as long as I continue to work for the government or in public service, even for a non-profit, the balance of my loan debt will be forgiven after 10 years. Which I think will end up being at least $10,000, so I will TAKE that, fuck yeah.

Geez, this entry is boring. Sorry. Um, oh! So I heard this story on NPR the other day about New Athiests vs. Old Atheists, and how there's this new trend among atheists to basically attack religion and religious people because they think religion and the ideas involved therein is dangerous. Which makes me go o.0 because like, as much as I don't believe in God and have been an atheist since the age of 8, I still have respect for other people's beliefs. And okay, I've seen Jesus Camp, and I know that religion can have some scary scary ideas that can genuinely be harmful and enhance ignorance and hate. But isn't it just as ignorant and hateful to assume that ALL religion and ALL people who practice even the most evangelical or radical forms of religion are somehow evil and setting out to destroy All Things Good?

I've never been a proponent of punishing people based on ideas they might have. To me, being an atheist isn't really a world view; it doesn't inform on my life much at all. I get frustrated sometimes when people assume I don't have morals simply because I don't have a standard set up by an outside framework like the Bible or whatever; a person can have morals and beliefs without having faith. They're not mutually exclusive. But I can't understand being so vehement about atheism that you feel the need to bring down religion and religious people; that empathy and respect desert you because you think someone else's ideas are too dangerous to exist.

Doesn't that just turn you into a radical fundamentalist yourself? Is that sort of scariness supposed to be less evil simply because you worship science instead of God? I think the scariness of the sort of Jesus Camp type evangelicals is that they are so blindly convinced of their own righteousness and the importance of their cause and their message. And to me, these so-called New Atheists with their idolatry of science and their insistence that religion must be destroyed is equally as scary. I had an argument with a friend over this via Google Reader comments, of all things, and I just had to stop looking at his replies after a while because his vitriol against religion and his conviction that all religious people are both evil and ignorant just disturbed me far too much.

I know lots of religious people, and I only know a few vaguely scary ones (my aunt, ha), and I'm pretty sure none of them are setting out to destroy modern society as we know it. Do religious fundamentalists fly planes into skyscrapers? Yes. And atheist anarchists bomb federal buildings. So who has the more dangerous ideas? Whose brains should we be attempting to control?

While you all ponder that, I'm going to eat some carrots and work on my Queen Bitch fic.

this makes me really uncomfortable

2009-10-15T13:34:08Z

So, yesterday I got an email from the University basically demanding that I declare my race and ethnicity. Here's the poll I was forced to fill out:

The federal government requires all employees to provide ethnicity and race data. Beginning fall 2010, the University is required by the US Department of Education to report ethnicity and race data of employees using new ethnicity and race categories. Please find the required the two-question format below. Please answer both questions below to indicate your ethnicity and race identification using the new categories.

Your current identification is: White (not Hispanic)

The university will continue to report information about employees using the current ethnicity categories until summer 2010. To change your current identification, click on Personal Information in the left navigation bar.

Ethnicity and Race: Question One:
Are you Hispanic or Latino? (a person of Cuban, Mexican, Puerto Rican, South or Central America, or other Spanish culture or origin, regardless of race).
Yes
No

Question Two:
Please select the racial category or categories with which you most closely identify. Check as many as Apply.
American Indian or Alaska Native: origins in any of the original peoples of North and South America (including Central America), and who maintains a tribal affiliation or community attachment

Asian: origins in any of the original peoples of the Far East, Southeast Asia, or the Indian subcontinent including, for example, Cambodia, China, India, Japan, Korea, Malaysia, Pakistan, the Philippine Islands, Thailand, and Vietnam.

Black: origins in any of the black racial groups of Africa.

Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific Islander: origins in any of the original peoples of Hawaii, Guam, Samoa, or other Pacific Islands

White: origins in any of the original peoples of Europe, the Middle East or North Africa.

Now, to give them credit, the second question is a checkbox, so you can choose more than one, since most Americans are a mix of something. My issue with this poll that I am being forced to take is:

a) Why is there a separate question about Hispanics/Latinos? Why are we singling them out for data?

b) Why is 'black' defined as of African decent? There are blacks originating from South America, just for example.

c) Let's talk about 'white' as a race/ethnicity. Because they've included Europe and the Middle East there (I guess because you can't call all Middle Easterners 'Arab'?) but WHAT ABOUT RUSSIA?? I'm 50% Russian. My grandparents were Russian Jews who were forcibly displaced after the revolution. Yes, from my mother's side I also have roots in Hungary and Germany, but most of me is Russian Jew, and my father was 100% Russian Jew. Russia isn't part of Europe. Technically, it's part of Asia, isn't it? But the US government doesn't consider Russians to be Asian. They don't consider Russians at all, actually, OR JEWS OMG.

d) How can they just ignore Jews as a race?? I know a lot of people would argue that being a Jew isn't a race but rather a religion; however, I really really disagree with that statement. Jews have physical attributes in common, we have names/naming schemes in common, we have a culture and a society and TWO languages, and all of that exists regardless of religion. Because of millennia of matrilineal definition, we share common blood. And isn't that the definition of a race?

Anyway, I'm incredibly annoyed. Incensed, even. Also, I drank my whole mug of coffee on the way to work and I admit I'm shaking a little right now with the adderall + caffeine rush, so that's probably part of it, BUT STILL. Can someone explain the US government's definitions to me? Because I'd rather not be so annoyed. Grrr. Arrrgh.

best week ever

2009-10-09T13:49:32Z

Here is a list of things that are happening with me, aka Why Andrea Is Having the Best Week Ever (Yay capes!):

1) An episode of House with lots of Chase, OMG. (He's so beautiful.)

2) Finally feeling comfortable talking openly about being bisexual with someone.

3) Tuesday happy hour; hanging out with girls and getting drunk off one margarita. Getting to know Brooke better, discovering that she is, in fact, 100% made of awesome.

4) Last night I had the best date ever, I'm pretty sure. 100% worth missing Thursday TV. YEAH. It was that good.

5) Seeing Rhett Miller at Antone's tonight, OMG.

6) Tomorrow: stancasting, racquetball, getting high with my friends and watching Baz Lurman films. FUCK YEAH.

7) GOT MY NETBOOK!!! And it's awesome and I will be writing on it on Sunday :) Because...

8) I finally know what I'm writing for Stars Go Blue (Rescue Blues sequelish thingy.) It's weird to have a title, but I mean, gotta stick with Ryan Adams on this one. And I maybe don't know like exact plot things, but I know what it's going to be about and I'm excited to write Adam's POV again, because it's been a while. I'm excited to write again, period! And then I can continue with my Queen Bitch fic, which I am already in love with and is going to be A++.

9) So, question. The person I am ~seeing (Catsilo--no, not his real name, but yes, that's what we call him) wants to do a cultural exchange with me in which we each choose 10 movies that we get to make the other person watch. My list right now is: Velvet Goldmine, Mulholland Drive, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, Paris Is Burning, Heavenly Creatures, NSYNC Live from Atlantis, and Bad Education. I have a few more to go, but I'm sure I will think of them easily enough. What would be on your list of 10 movies you think everyone should watch?

10) In conclusion: \0/

the revolution will be televised

2009-10-08T16:01:53Z

Hey, remember when I said I wanted to do a television podcast where I maybe got a little drunk and talked to people about all the awesome shows we watch? Well, I finally created a community for it! So go join

stancast

omgomgomg! I even made a welcome post right over here which, while not terribly informative or clever, basically says what my plans for this thing are. Go, read, comment, join, follow, stan. WOOT.

books that changed your life

2009-10-06T16:42:22Z

Today on the way to work, I listened to this past week's podcast of This American Life, which was actually an old episode called 'Books that changed my life.' I really liked the episode and you should all go download it for free (yay free shit!), but it got me thinking about which books have changed my life. So obviously, I made a list.

5 Books That Changed My Life

(in no particular order)

1) Mrs Dalloway by Virginia Woolf
This was the first book I read that I really truly studied and teased out as many meanings as I could from it. It's also the book that introduced me to psychoanalytic readings and to my mentor in college, Lisa Ruddick, who I was half in love with, but mostly her brain and her talent and her hilarious lack of desire to read Durkheim. I've read Mrs D so many times, there are entire sections I could quote. It's not a long book, but it's so beautifully written, both entrenched in the late Victorian era and all the historical and cultural mores of that time and place, but also transcendent of all of that, because at its heart it's about people's desire to cling to their illusions even as the world/society/culture itself forcibly strips them away. It's also about the ways in which people, particularly women, but others as well, participate in their own oppression in a last-ditch effort to maintain a crumbling world view that, while regressive and oppressive and oftentimes horrible, also somehow brings comfort and guidance in a fast-changing world. I think this is something I really connect to, because I like to know my place in the world and how I relate to others; I like to be in control of that, even if being in control actually means giving up autonomy for the benefit of understanding my place. Here's my favorite part:

It was her life, and, bending her head over the hall table, she bowed beneath the influence, felt blessed and purified, saying to herself, as she took the pad with the telephone message on it, how moments like this are buds on the tree of life, flowers of darkness they are, she thought (as if some lovely rose had blossomed for her eyes only); not for a moment did she believe in God; but all the more, she thought, taking up the pad, must one repay in daily life to servants, yes, to dogs and canaries, above all to Richard her husband, who was the foundation of it--of the gay sounds, of the green lights, of the cook even whistling, for Mrs Walker was Irish and whistled all day long--one must pay back from this secret deposit of exquisite moments, she thought, lifting the pad, while Lucy stood beside her, trying to explain how.

How beautiful is that? Moments like this are buds on the tree of life... secret deposit of exquisite moments... and she's talking about this every day thing of reading a phone message and how that simple thing basically encapsulates her entire life, and how she both revels in it (exquisite moments) and is oppressed by it (bows beneath the influence) and how it makes her feel thankful for her own oppression (one must repay in daily life) because after her act of rebellion (Clarissa said she would buy the flowers herself) it gives her a sense of her place in the order of the world, which she needs because she has to believe in something, if not God, and she's chosen to replace God with this cultural paradigm of Victorian British culture and history. I guess I just really relate to that.

...anyway. Moving on.

2) Written on the Body by Jeanette Winterson
So in college I had to read Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit, which was okay, but didn't really inspire me to read more of Winterson's work or to think she was anything special. And then I read Written on the Body, and The Passion, and they were so incredible and beautifully written and emotional and heartbreakingly real while being also part of this sort of fantasy land that they completely changed my mind about Winterson, but also, I think, my entire writing style. I realized, reading her books, that you could write a novel about relationships that weren't just about relationships, but about the psychosis of relationships, about obsessive love, about imperfect people who make inexplicably awful decisions and yet retain their humanity and my empathy. If I could write like anyone, it would be Winterson. She's incredible.

Articulacy of fingers, the language of the deaf and dumb, singing on the body longing. Who taught you to write in blood on my back? Who taught you to use your hands as branding irons? You have scored your name into my shoulders, referenced me with your mark. The pads of your fingers have become printing blocks, you tap a message onto my skin, tap meaning into my body. Your morse code interferes with my heart beat. I had a steady heart before I met you, I relied upon it, it had seen active service and grown strong. Now you alter its place with your own rhythm, you play upon me, drumming me taut.

Written on the body is a secret code only visible in certain lights; the accumulations of a lifetime gather there.

3) Flowers in the Attic by VC Andrews
Because it taught me how to own my shame until I lost it completely, being the trashiest book for teenage girls pretty much ever written.

4) Harry Potter by JK Rowling
This wasn't the first series of books I became obsessed with (Alanna, HI!!) but it definitely left the longest impression because it's what got me into fandom, and fandom made me a happier person and opened up a whole new world to me. I started writing again, and I think I'm even pretty good at it now, even if it's "just" fanfic. And I've met so many awesome people through fandom and through Harry Potter specifically; it's almost a catch-all of fandom, because nearly everyone I know in fandom was in Harry Potter at least peripherally at some point. I met my best friend through Harry Potter, and losing him last year was so incredibly painful, but at the same time, I had a huge support network of fandom friends who were really the only people who could possibly understand what I was going through, but at the same time, knew exactly what I was going through because many of them have been through it before.

Harry Potter gave me a community of like-minded people during a time in my life when I really really needed it, needed to have a place and a purpose in the world, no matter how inconsequential. It let me get to know people in this incredibly intimate way that opened myself up to knowing myself as well. When all you consist of is thoughts on a screen, you get to know yourself really well, and in my case, accept and like the person you are becoming.

5) The Bonds of Love by Jessica Benjamin
I don't even know how to explain this book, so here, read the synopsis: In The Bonds of Love, noted feminist theorist and psychoanalyst Jessica Benjamin explains why we accept and perpetuate relationships of domination and submission. She reveals that domination is a complex psychological process which ensnares both parties in bonds of complicity, and shows how it underlies our family life, our social institutions, and especially our sexual relations, in spite of our conscious commitment to equality and freedom.

Basically, I read this book for a class (I think it was actually a Virginia Woolf class, but it could've been any number of gender studies classes I took) and it was like a light suddenly went on in my head. Like one of those cartoons where the shining lightbulb appears over someone's head when they get an idea or understand something? Exactly like that.

I'm not ashamed to say that my feelings about sex and sexuality are complicated and conflicted and what most people would probably deem at best fetishizing, at worst problematic. Reading The Bonds of Love helped me reconcile my personality and my moral beliefs about equality and directness and being straight-forward and only doing things I want to do and being so outspoken, with my sexual needs, which are almost the opposite--needing to be dominated and controlled and forced to submit to someone else's desire. For a long time I was really conflicted about my sexual personality because it seemed to be the antithesis of the things I believe in and the way I am in my every day life. But this book helped me reconcile that conflict because it made me realize that giving up control is actually a way of giving up responsibility, of putting the responsibility of pleasure on someone else which, actually, is a way of controlling that other person.

I'm not explaining this right, but it makes sense when you read the book (and in my head.) There's a power in submission that people don't really understand until they've experienced it. A lot of people assume that it's about some weird need you have to feel like a whore or whatever, but that's the opposite of what I get from it and what I need. Giving up control means giving up responsibility means giving up pressure to perform and please means giving up self-consciousness and doubt. And the only reason I understand any of that about myself is The Bonds of Love. And it changed my life and the entire way I understand sex and myself.

...omg that was so much writing. And way too much information. How uncomfortable have I made all of you, now?? HA. Well. Tell me the 5 books (or just 1, whatever) that changed your life. (I'm telling you stories. Trust me.)

PS - Just got my netbook OMGOMGOMG.

lunchtime polls are so 1983, heather

2009-10-05T13:48:40Z

View Poll: stars go blue

omfg

2009-09-28T15:15:52Z

OMFG you guys, I can't even tell you how much this MAKES MY FUCKING DAY!!!

And now I think I need to go read Shiny Shiny Pants and Bleached Blonde Hair aka the One Where Jeff Tweedy Writes Britney/Lance fic, because YES! God, I love them.

(Wow, I just remembered that I totally wrote Britney/Lance for remix once, omg.)

In other news, just a heads up to make sure to download this week's This American Life--they're doing a follow-up to last year's "Giant Pool of Money" in conjunction with the guys over at Planet Money, and if you ever wanted to understand how the sub-prime mortgage crisis happened or why we had the economic catastrophe in the first place, "Giant Pool of Money" explains it really well and is available right here for free.

And finally, I am going to create a community this week to host the TV podcast thingy I talked about last week. The name I've thought up for it is a bit retarded though, so give me suggestions! I really really suck at naming things. (The true reason I don't write original fic. I can't NAME anything.)

Had an awesome weekend. Polvo's tonight for Eric's birthday, which means margarita and fajitas for me! YUM.

dear life, be better!

2009-09-26T03:26:26Z

Ugh, you guys. Work is fucking KILLING MY SOUL.

My story isn't actually that exciting, I'm just feeling very overwhelmed at work for the past, oh, three weeks or so, and it's definitely been wearing on me. I know I owe people here stuff. I'm supposed to beta someone's rpf big bang, and beta another something for someone else, and write my Donors Choose auction fic, and work on my Queen Bitch fic. And believe me, I WISH I WAS DOING THOSE THINGS, but instead I'm just working constantly from 7:30AM until 5PM because I'm staying late and not taking lunch because I have so fucking much to do, and yes. Ugh.

Now, if I were like, a lawyer or someone with an actually important job who made more than $30k a year, my schedule would probably seem light. I'm not so much complaining about the hours, or even being constantly busy with too many things to actually keep track of; I'm more annoyed that I really don't get paid enough for all the work I do, especially since I am basically doing someone else's job in addition to my own.

For those of you who don't know, I work in the English department at UT Austin. I am the web content manager, I'm the coordinator for the Texas Institute for Literary and Textual Studies aka TILTS (this year's theme: Renaissance brutality/murder/torture, and no, I'm not kidding, it's all heads on spikes, for shizzle in the hizzle), and I have a bunch of other administrative duties, like faculty sick leave, time sheet processing, ordering supplies, recruitment travel, blah blah.

So that is my job, and it keeps me fairly busy unless it's the summer, when everything is slow. But right now, shit at my job is actually speeding up very quickly because the Renaissance thing is accepting proposals for their Spring Symposium and their Odyssey course, which is a lecture series that people pay to attend, is about to start next week, and the folks for next year's theme (Digital Humanities, whatever that is) are beginning to plan, which means processing reimbursements for them from their research funds, etc etc. Also, I had to build Renaissance an entire website within the confines of the English department website while they wait for ITS to build them a REAL website, plus I've been doing all the updates for the undergrad and graduate advising because the girl who used to do theirs left to go back to school and the new chick doesn't know how to use Cascade yet. AND ITS is switching our entire site over to a new template and a new version of Cascade over the next few weeks as well, so I've been having meetings with them to work out those details and OMG I HATE CASCADE ARG ARG ARG.

Anyway, so my job? Already busy. But then the faculty liason chick (let's call her FLC) decided that SHE was so busy getting together the shit for the 3 promotion cases the department has this year that she couldn't do anything else, so my supervisor decided to have ME do 80% of FLC's job for her. Which means that over the past month I've been assigned to collect, organize, and process: 2 different grant applications from 10 different people, faculty annual reports from all 80 department faculty (each report has 3 pieces minimum) some of whom are on leave out of the country, and the big one--post tenure review.

Post tenure review is HUGE. It's monster. It involves so much information on each faculty member being reviewed, and it involves information from the past 6 years. 6 years' worth of annual reports, course instructor surveys, student comments, publications, career narrative, CVs, and... I'm sure there's more. It's a LOT of stuff. And there are 10 people up for review. 2 of them are ON LEAVE, which means getting their stuff is like hoping that just this once, Oscar will come out of his trashcan in a good mood. I have to collect everything in paper format, and then SCAN IT ALL in individual files and turn it all into pdfs.

So, I'm doing all this and hunting down faculty who haven't turned in their reports and updating three different websites plus my normal job plus TILTS... and meanwhile FLC is having long chats with Last Year's Girl in her office and looking at funny webpages with her. Because promotions were due a week and a half ago! So she's done with her one thing (which wasn't that big a deal to be honest, not nearly as much stuff as post-tenure review with less people who are a lot more motivated to get shit in because it's PROMOTIONS) and I'm still doing 80% of her job and getting paid less, too.

Meanwhile, the College is forcing the department chair to give faculty merit raises even though we're on a pay freeze and the Chair doesn't think faculty should take even merit raises in a year when staff aren't getting any. (Our Chair is awesome, seriously. I love her.) But the College has decided that merit should be determined via some sort of cohort system of our own devising, and also we need to adjust for gender equity. So all the work we did in the spring creating a ranking system for salary? Gone. I spent an hour today changing all the faculty CVs I have thankfully saved on my computer into pdfs and uploading them onto a webspace for review by the Chair and her merit raise committee people over the weekend.

OMG this post sucks. Okay, here's the good part. RIGHT HERE!! SCROLL SCROLL UNTIL YOU GET HERE!! Are you here? Okay good. The most depressing part of my day was getting done with work (late) and going to the gym to play racquetball. First we had to kick people off our court, which involved a trip to the front desk to determine who had the court reserved, and then I only got to play for like 40 minutes before Matt was like, "Okay, I have to go now."

This was disappointing because a) I was just getting started and b) this is the first time since Matt returned from his summer internship in Chicago in early August that we actually have played, because he kept ditching me at the last second. On our way out, he told me that he took a lot of shit for coming to play racquetball with me in the first place, and I was like, "What? Why??"

Turns out his girlfriend is not so much a fan of the whole thing, although I'm not sure if it's that he's spending time "alone" with me, or if it's just that it's taking time away from her. And the thing is, I like his girlfriend. But I also like having my friend and being able to spend time with him even if she's not interested in what we're doing. We had dinner earlier in the week and I was kind of hoping to talk to him about the person I may or may not ~like, but he brought her along so I didn't really feel comfortable talking about personal stuff around her. (I like her, but I don't know her that well, and just... yeah. Didn't feel right.)

So anyway, that was lamecakes. And then the bus didn't come for 30 minutes and I got home just in time for Dollhouse and I didn't get to plan my TV podcast thing at all this week because I got home and just fucking crashed. I'm so drained, you guys. There's way too much shit going on. I like my life to be boring. I can only handle one exciting thing at a time, and right now everything is WAY too exciting.

Dear Life-

Please to be getting better, and also to be calming the fuck down. I know you're excited and Imma let you finish, but Andrea had one of the worst weeks ever, and now she's talking about herself in the third person.

Never a good sign.

no love-
Me

PS - Make something awesome happen this weekend, and forgiveness is in your grasp. Free tickets to Fame would be nice, just for example.

i could care less whatcha think

2009-09-25T02:10:18Z

No idea who these people are, but I am in love with that chick OMG. She's hot. Fuck yeah.

blooouuulluuuu

2009-09-24T14:20:45Z

HI PEOPLE HI!

So yesterday, I forgot to take my adderall and it was awful, mostly because the night before I had taken ibuprofen PM to quell the feeling in my uterus like Edward Cullen was trying to eat his unborn child out of me. Plus it was a huge work deadline, so yes, totally insane and awful and BLECH.

Today I remembered to take my pill, and WOW, it is kind of like the first time I took it, which is to say, I feel very energetic and awesome and like I could run a race and solve the global financial crisis and end world hunger all at once. Instead, I will work on annual reports and other boring work things and think about the fics I need to write, which are all going to be awesome and I CAN'T WAIT OMG.

But with all this excess energy burning around inside me, how about we play a game. ASK ME QUESTIONS. Whatever you want. Personal, politics, fandom, something about my stories, what happens next in them, what do I think about Germany, why hockey >>>>>> football... WHATEVER. Ask me stuff. And then we can like, have conversations! I will ask you stuff back. We can get to know each other. It'll be fun.

OR WHATEVER. Someone put drugs in my drugs! I need something to occupy my brain while my hands make files.

podcast anyone?

2009-09-21T13:57:29Z

So, while downloading some NPR podcasts onto my ipod yesterday in preparation of the work week, I decided to look for amusing podcasts about TV, because I watch pretty much a fuckton of TV and since I don't get to see Jacob very often anymore, I have no one to geek out about it with. But listening to TV Addicts, which seems to be a pretty popular TV podcast, I was just getting frustrated by the whole thing where they NEVER TALKED ABOUT THE SHOWS.

And that got me thinking about how I could do a MUCH better job. And how podcasting is actually super easy. And I kind of miss doing slashcast, but mainly I miss doing metachat because it was fun to torture my fellow metachatters with my ridiculous ideas. And then I did that thing again on Friday night at a party, where I get drunk off bad jello shots and tell everyone about the One Where Justin Timberlake Lays Eggs, because seriously, I have to.

(Which reminds me, Catsilo told me he had a friend who used to write John Mayer fic. WAS IT ONE OF YOU? Do people even write John Mayer?? He's so douchey, I could totally see him having his own little elitist fandom of like 10 people with a locked community that only the authors can belong to because they're ~special and not like the rest of us internet freaks. Hello, tangent!)

So podcasting! I am considering doing a podcast about the week's TV. But I feel like I need a partner, so it can be a discussion? So if there's anyone out there who watches ridiculous amounts of TV and wants to talk about it on a podcast probably no one will listen to with me, email me or comment here or whatever. You don't have to live here. We can totally do it over Skype. And I think I will probably like... make a rule that I have to be drinking during it, because I mean... sober!Andrea is just going to be like, all serious and themes and important social commentary and shit, but kind of boozy!Andrea would be like, who cares about the allegory to the Iraq War, let's talk about how they should be fucking and I bet Helo has a huuuuuge dick. (Just saying. If Athena is so attached to it, it must be good. She's ALREADY a machine.)

And now I need to work. But I'm thinking this would be an early evening Friday activity, for anyone who's interested. I could even rotate co-hosts if there are lots of people interested in just doing it once or twice or whatever.

YAY.

Music: The September Mix

2009-09-20T18:14:19Z

So on Friday (or really, at 4am on Saturday), mostlikely2 was asking what music I'm listening to nowadays, and I couldn't think of anything except Lady Gaga, which even for 4am, is just sad. And I remembered that wendy does this thing where she posts a mix every month of things she's listened to that month. So I decided to do that, too, and try to remember what all I'm listening to. WOOT. Thank god for lastfm.

sexify my love / nkotb
so let's conversate
'cause i think it's time that we became one love

paparazzi / lady gaga
i'm your biggest fan
i'll follow you until you love me

party in the u.s.a. / miley cyrus
so i put my hands up
they're playing my song
the butterflies fly away

aliens & rainbows / ferras
i would rather be alone with aliens and rainbows
on the other side of the universe

bright lights / kris allen (live)
i got a hole in me now
i got a scar i can talk about

mad / ne-yo
we're fighting this war, baby both of us are losing
this ain't the way that love is supposed to go

sex on fire / kings of leon
soft lips are open, knuckles are pale
feels like you're dying, you're dying

uprising / muse
another promise, another seed
another, packaged lie to keep us trapped in greed

electric feel / mgmt
standing there with nothing on
she gonna teach me how to swim

the fear / lily allen
'cause i'm killing them all on my own little mission
now i'm not a saint, but i'm not a sinner
and everything's cool as long as i'm getting thinner

fifteen / taylor swift
when all you wanted was to be wanted
wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now

skin / alexz johnson
i've got a reason now to bury this alive
another little white lie

feeling good / adam lambert
stars when you shine
you know how i feel

download: [the september mix]

bonus tracks

[the climb / kelly clarkson cov. miley cyrus]
i may not know it but these are the moments that
i'm gonna remember most, yeah

[man in the mirror / kris allen (acoustic)]
a summer's disregard
a broken bottle top
and a one man's soul

[crazy / adam lambert & kris allen (acoustic)]
and i hope that you are having
the time of your life

Let me know if you have any issues with the download links. Also, I'm going to see Kelly Clarkson in November and I am SO FREAKING EXCITED. November is going to be the best month ever because:

1) KELLY
2) Kris's album
3) Adam's album
4) getting my netbook (fianlly!)

Now it's time to watch The Office and eat breakfast. Mmmm.

you know I never do anon memes but...

2009-09-19T00:42:55Z

...this one is actually something useful.

The Concrit Meme

My thread: Located here!

Give concrit, anon optional, on any or all of my work in fandom! Or just come participate.

You know you want to tell me how much you actually hate that I've written like 40k words of mpreg. Go do it.

When Kris Allen hugs you, God invents a new breed of kitten (recs. IDOL. And bandom? What??)

2009-09-12T18:31:52Z

I hate doing recs on Saturdays because everyone is off having fun and living lives and not bored at work or school so I think people never see them, but since I'm actually super freaking busy at work now, this is the only time I have to do them, and OMG I need to make recs or I feel like the awesomeness from this fandom will explode my brain.

+LA's Gonna Eat You Alive: The Diary of Matt Giraud by fakeplasticsnow (adam/matt, anoop/megan) // OMFG you guys. Even if this wasn't written FOR ME OMG, I would still be completely obsessed and in love with it. Ever since JC's Diary, I have had a major thing for the Bridget Jones trope. Dear fakeplasticsnow knew this, and rewarded me for fucking around with one of her fics for a few weeks with this piece of total awesomeness. It's hilarious and adorable and someone, despite the total unreality of it all, she STILL manages to nail the characterizations so perfectly. Especially Anoop. ESPECIALLY MATTYG, AND WHY DON'T MORE PEOPLE WRITE HIM OMG??? You see? This fic has me capslocking like OotP Harry. It has me talking in internet acronyms like I've swapped brains with my mother. I LOVE IT SO MUCH.

I hate Kris Allen.

I mean, he spells his name with a K. What the hell kind of retarded twinkie trend is that? Maybe I should call myself Zmatt Giraud and tell people the Z is silent, it's French. I could even put an apostrophe, so it's edgy. Z'matt Giraud. Or Giraude with an E for added stylishness.

So today, Hi-Def Records' latest hitmaker Kris Allen walked into the office with his stupid angelic face and perfect sculpted body and unbuttoned-to-AWKWARD plaid shirt (plaid, what the fuck, who wears plaid in the real world), and every time he smiled, a choir of angels sang. Fucker.

+Just Like That River I've Been Running by miss_begonia (adam/brendon urie) // UGH OMG. I am so inarticulate today because I just want to keep saying, "I LOVE THIS FIC GO READ IT" but I feel like I owe you guys some actual, like, commentary, so I will attempt. Those of you who know me know that bandom and I do not get on like gangstas (gangbusters?) or whatever. But lately, people have been writing Adam/Brendon, and I think... you guys, I think I'm starting to really like Brendon Urie! All I know about him is that he has magical acid jizz capable of eating through coffee tables and I hate his voice. But in fic, he's kind of awesome and adorable? He brought back the exclamation point, which was the only thing I like about Panic! At the Disco in the first place. (Well, and the ease with which you can mock their name with parodies: Panic! In the Crisco, Tranny! At the Disco) So yes, this fic? Made me love Brendon Urie with my whole heart. Having only recently accepted that a) Nsync is never reuniting and b) JC is done with music, maybe I am just at the point now where I can really connect to what Brendon's going through.

Because really, what this fic is about is Brendon mourning the death of his band as he knows it, and trying to create something new from the ashes. And how Adam helps him with that, because Adam is Adam and also has magical jizz, but his is glitter rather than acid. Just go read it. I really love this story.

“I think this time it should be different,” Brendon says.

He means the album, the music, the process. Different, because they are different – because they’ve all changed.

Ryan gives him a long, unreadable look.

“But what if nobody likes different?” Ryan asks.

Brendon opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. What is there to say?

They sit together for a good hour without talking until Spencer comes back to reclaim his seat. Brendon pretends to read Ryan’s copy of some British music magazine he purchased at the London airport, but mostly he sulks and bites his fingernails and thinks, We didn’t used to keep secrets and I think you used to be my friend.

+Turn a No into a Yes in Ten Tour Dates (Matt Giraud Shows You How!) by fakeplasticsnow (matt/adam) // Are you feeling my ~~Tims, my baggy jeans, my thug appeal~~ my theme? Basically, this fic is about MattyG trying to blow Adam, and being denied. AND IT IS AWESOME AND HILARIOUS. Her Matt wins at life SO FREAKING HARD.

+In My Pocket by eleanor_lavish (kris/adam, dcoooook) // Um basically, this fic wins at life. THIS is what I was trying to write when I accidentally wrote the one about DCook's displacement issues over his brother's death. OOPS. But hey, y'all get this piece of amazing instead. DCook has a plan, Katy has a List (you know the kind), and Kris and Adam are mere pawns on the Cookaty chessboard of lurve.

"Apparently he's heteroflexible," Kris says, mimicking Adam's inflection, and she giggles.

"That's Adam speak for 'easy' isn't it," she says.

"Pretty much," Kris nods. She trails her fingers down his chest.

"Hey, if you ever want to sleep with David Cook, that's fine," she says, her voice low and flirty. "You just better send me pictures."

Kris laughs and rolls her over on the mattress, pinning her wrists to the bed. "We're adding him to the list now?" he asks, and Katy tilts her head thoughtfully. Kris takes the opportunity to lean down and kiss her neck, lets his teeth scrape over her clavicle.

"The list needs updating anyway," she gasps.

+Sick Cycle Carousel by fakeplasticsnow (kris/adam) // LOOK, she keeps writing awesome fic. And also I've been busy, so I've only gotten to read the fic written FOR MEEEEEE and hence, yes. But this fic. It is very special to me. I got to help, and that was so awesome. I know how wendy and madame_d feel now when they tell me how I need to make my fic better, faster, strong, THE KING OF SPAIN!, because that's how I felt seeing FPS's whole process and the transformation of this fic into what it is. It was a good fic when it started, but I think it's an amazing fic in its final version. Her Kris is wonderfully complicated and conflicted; her Adam is vivid and heartbreaking and lovely; and as always, her side characters completely steal the show with their awesome.

He began with, "There's something wrong with me," and there was something wrong with him because the second Katy left the restaurant, Kris borrowed a pen from the waiter so he could sign the divorce papers. The only thing that stopped him from going through with it was the thought that his lawyer might rip him a new one for being so impulsive. It was a dick move and Kris knew it, and he should've taken time to at least think it over, because: seven years. And as the cherry on top of that douchebag sundae, he got a handjob from Adam in the middle of the concert.

"But not while I was performing, right?"

"Probably while you were performing."

"Oh, gross," Matt said, wrinkling his nose.

"I'm, like, totally classy."

"With a capital K, babe."

And that's all for recs for now. I plan to spend most of this weekend catching up on fic (so many fics in my "to be read" file on delicious, EEEP, but also YAY!!) and I owe some people some betas.

Also, does anyone know when we're supposed to hear about our auction stuff? I'm pretty sure I know what the people who won me want, but I need specifics! It was so lovely to see how much 'The Rescue Blues' means to people. I want to write something really amazing for those people, something even better than the original. I hope I can do it. Eeeeep.

And now, I need to go shopping. Please remember: if you read a fic, LEAVE THEM FEEDBACK!!! All of these fics are so amazing, and the authors deserve to know it. Also so they will become addicted to the love and attention and write more. *beams*

random stuff (freitag, bitches!)

2009-09-11T18:38:16Z

Thank fucking God it's Friday. Seriously. I know I haven't been around much, and I want to apologize for that. I have a bunch of y'alls fics open and I really want to read them, but freaking work is so busy right now, and by the time I get home at night I just want to watch Big Brother and collapse in a pile of exhaustion.

I did the Ask the Author thing over at idolmeta and it was actually really entertaining and fun. For me, anyway! I got to answer questions about my writing (non)process and pimp my favorite books and talk about myself a lot, which everyone loves to do, no matter how humble we pretend to be, KRIS ALLEN.

(Just kidding. Kris is humble for reals, yo. He's like the anti-Timberlake.)

If you're a member over there, though, I highly suggest signing up, because it was a lot of fun. I like that people asked me about how my different fandoms have compared, and my own perception of my fandom status and the whole BNF phenomenon. Someone asked me if people really don't know when they're BNFs because a lot of times she's seen BNFs act surprised when they're told they are BNFs. Which is a really interesting question to me, and I'm wondering what you all think. I think that the people who work hard to become BNFs in a conscious way know exactly what they're doing and what they hope to accomplish. They have this idea that BNFs are like Queen Bees--they're the Plastics of fandom.

But true BNFs--ie fans who become popular based on talent and charisma and just by being interesting people--they are often unaware of the status and could give a shit less about it. I know this is kind of a ~thing in AI right now for many reasons, but I wish people wouldn't sweat it. Just do your thing and be happy and don't worry about any of the rest of that mess.

Stuff I Need to Do This Weekend
+Catch up on BB for the finale
+Catch up on ABDC ie find a download (does anyone know where one might be?)
+GO SHOPPING OMG. I need new jeans (mine are falling off) and bras and maybe shirts. I don't know if I actually have money for it, but I need it. Siiiiigh.
+Sleep forever
+Go see The Big Gay Musical at the Drafthouse ♥

And that is all. Back to work. *sadface*

all you people wanting more

2009-09-10T21:32:07Z

Just a quick note to say that I am the Ask the Author person over at idolmeta today, so if you have any burning desire to get to know me better or ask me random questions, this is the place to do it.

Now, I'm going to go home and read fic and sleep forever. Fuck this week, OMG.