so many fandoms

#UntilTheVeryEnd… also, #FUCKWARNERBROTHERS

May 21, 2022 :: 12:49 PM

I watch too many horror movies and my husband is The Chicken is Boba Fett. There. That’s a thing you know now about my private life.

I’m done.

Just when I thought I couldn’t be any less motivated to run…

RTI just settled their lawsuit with Warner Brothers, which loosely translates to WB just killed a group that is filled with people who love their intellectual property so much that they band together under the name and use their combined energy to do #somuchgood.

Yeah.

The Potterhead Running Club is closing up shop.

And because the PHRC basically funds all the other RTI clubs, Whovian and Fandom are closing down as well. They hope to keep the FRC Fan Domain group active, but no more medals. No more Racery events. Some of the PHRC groups (like Book Club, Transfiguration, etc.) are spinning off and will continue to operate under different names with volunteers to keep them alive.

But it won’t be the same.

The Tower has always felt like home to me… but it’s lost its magic. Literally.

There’s no other way to put it.

I’m not OK with this.

Seriously.

I’ve been crying since the news broke.

I’ve needed the consistency and the friendship and the sense of family the clubs were filled with.

And now it’s going away.

And I don’t know what to do with myself.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

I joke all the time that I’m not all that great at the social part of social media.

But let’s call it what it is: I collect people and then I barely interact with them.  That’s why I have like 75 or 80 Facebook friends and most of my newsfeed is either (Ukrainian) bands or RTI groups. Anything more is overwhelming.

Shit, I haven’t spoken to my best friend, my little brother from another mother for two years now.

I’m just not good at it.

I keep coming back to the therapist that asked me why I don’t let people get close. Why I don’t let them help me through the Dark Days and The Ick.

I hate me during those times. I definitely don’t want to subject people I care about to that… which is why I am SO FUCKING HAPPY that my husband has been able to tolerate it.

We’ve been together since 1998 and got married in 2002. He’s a fucking saint.

A. FUCKING. SAINT.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

We’re doing a Stand with, or Support, Ukraine 5k locally tomorrow (whatever, I can’t remember the name). Proceeds are going to the Ukrainian Red Cross. I know they’re having problems selling the race, so who knows how much is actually going to Ukraine, but it’s still… something.

My tryzub sticker is on my car. We went shopping for shelving today and managed to fit it in the car. (I HAVE A TRUNK AGAIN! I might have started jumping up and down in the parking lot screaming my joy… have I mentioned my husband is a saint? Yup.) My Deathly Hallows is also on my car.

The only thing I’m missing are my race stickers. I can’t decide if I want to put them on now and add the marathon after, or do all four after and see if I can find a Dopey sticker.

I guess we’ll see…

 

Link to this post   •   bipolar   •    •   completely random   •    •   Friends   •    •   running   •    •   so many fandoms  

I like to be called ‘cupcake’.

April 13, 2022 :: 9:58 PM

find you someone who looks at you like Chris looks at Peter

Draft four of my ode to statutory rape is in time out.

I love the idea I have.

I love the way I write my characters.

I love everything except for the fact that Yuri is 15.

I’m not ready to write a draft where I age him up.

SO… because I am a writer and writing is as vital to me as breathing, I am writing.

But not Yuri on Ice!!! fic.

I’m back to writing Teen Wolf fan fic.

But not the version I went three drafts on.

Nope.

Why bother finishing a completely decent story? One that was thisclose to being done?

Because, I suppose, I’m me and I like to do things the hard way.

I started a completely different new fic… with a completely different pairing.

Is it a pairing if it’s an OT3? Whatever.

I’ve decided to write what’s commonly referred to as Stetopher: Stiles / Peter / Chris(topher).

The best part about this fandom is that the Petopher portion practically writes itself.

No. Seriously.

^^^^ LOOK. AT. THAT. UP. THERE. ^^^^

JR Bourne plays Chris Argent and Ian Bohen plays Peter Hale in TW. All you have to do is spend time on instagram to get enough ammunition to fill that ship’s canon. (Ha ha ha! Do you like what I did there?)

Anyhoo… Adding Stiles to the mix makes it that much better.

This happened today and it is still making me giggle.

 

Thankfully, I do not need to age anyone up this time.

It’s the little things.

 

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Steady repetition is a compulsion mutually reenforced

March 21, 2022 :: 8:33 PM

I’ll take a bag of rice, please.

OH. MY. GOD. WHY. IS. THIS. SO. HARD.

Draft four has been an amazing, almost religious experience… if you choose to worship at the altar of pain, tears, hair pulling, and very, very creative swearing.

That fucker needs some holy water AND a blow torch.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

So. Yesterday.

I turned 47 and my husband came home from the hospital.

Yeah, read that again.

Friday, he went to the ER. He stayed in the hospital until late Sunday afternoon.

Nothing serious. The symptoms he was experiencing were due to a bulging disk and not a stroke or diabetes or whatever Doctor Google terrified him with. He needs to stretch, relax, and do yoga. The husband doing yoga is a visual that I will treasure until the day I die…

But.

He gave my mother a run for her money when it came to the absolute worst birthday weekend ever. They might actually be tied for first right now.

Happy fucking birthday, Wendell.

 

- - - - - - - - - -

My godfather’s daughter and I are friends on Facebook. We haven’t spoken for… oh, let’s say thirty years, until recently.

Her grandmother was the Colonel. The Keeper of the Culture.

The baddest ass motherfucker on that part of the family tree.

That woman used to scare the everloving fuck out of me as a kid.

Anyhoo…

When all that shit with Russia happened, someone asked L on FB if she had any family over in Ukraine.

She replied that she did, but she wasn’t close to them.

I couldn’t help myself and messaged her, asking for details. The Colonel used to stay in contact with them, but nobody else had.

After a long back-and-forth, we compared family trees. The one she did when she was like 10 years old and the one I paid a professional for.

They were identical. (And, you have no idea how happy that made both of us!)

She had some information that I didn’t have and vice versa.

But, yeah. The women I found in Ukraine were definitely family. 100%.

She totally made a completely shitty weekend worth it.

I needed that sense of family so badly this weekend and I got that and more.

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I no make words go good. English hard.

February 23, 2022 :: 9:56 PM

I’m running out of icons and pretty colours on my little sidebar.

I’ve decided to scrap the third draft and start over again…

Welcome to draft 4, which is already filled with random notes like this one.

TBH, I don’t know which one of us was completely shitty when that was written, but my money’s on me. Beka seems like he’d be straight-edge. (When he’s not statutory raping a fucking 15 year old, that is. KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS, BEKA.)

Yeah.

So much shit on my mind and instead, I’m tearing apart a story that I’ve already written three drafts of to play with new point of views and - hopefully - get them to keep it in their pants. I DO NOT WRITE KIDDY PORN, GODDAMNIT.

At this rate, I’m going to have to age them up… and I hate that. I like AUs, but that’s totally not the story I wanted to tell.

Yearning. Slow burn. A love story spread over three years.

That’s the story I want to tell.

And the one I am completely incapable of telling.

Oh well. The 4th time’s the charm, right?

 

- - - - - - - - - -

I’m trying to keep myself distracted.

The pending war in Ukraine. The new job. Life in general.

I’m a big ball of stress right now.

So, of course, the Sims released a new game pack today.

By all accounts, it is buggy as fuck, even despite being held back by a week. (And wasn’t that a week - the short version is, EA self-censored and refused to release the game in Russia. All hell broke loose. EA backed off and held the release a week to ensure that the game would launch globally at the same time. A whole lot of stupidity ensued.)

Still bought it. Haven’t even bothered playing yet.

I probably won’t get a chance until the weekend.

Maybe EA will patch it by then. (Or not. We still have bugs in the game that are several years old and well known by everybody. Like, there’s no way the SimGurus don’t know about them. Why they aren’t being fixed is anyone’s guess at this point.)

Also not helping is the fact that the 2023 NHL All Star game is being held in my backyard. At that place. That I used to work at. Before I got fired for being bipolar.

I’m torn between wanting to go and staying home. I don’t know which option is healthier.

I’m just glad that life is starting to become closer to normal again… I have a half marathon towards the end of March and I just signed up to run a 5K in early March. I have a Boombox concert to go to, and I might head to Universal on my birthday to see Gavin DeGraw.

Who the fuck knows.

All I know is that I’m stressed to the gills….

I need a nap, a cookie, and a hug.

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I think about this world a lot and I cry

August 07, 2021 :: 11:26 AM

UConn’s last pure white husky has crossed the rainbow bridge…

I’m a fucking mess right now.

I can’t even deny it… tear tracks are running down my face and I haven’t been able to stop the tears for days. (Other than when I need to pull my shit together for work, of course. They can’t see how broken I am.)

It started with the announcement that Jonathan XII had died.

Yes.

A dog that wasn’t mine… that I wasn’t even close to… is dead and I can’t deal with it.

I suppose, all things considered, I should have seen this coming.

I’m past exhausted.

I’m not sleeping.

I’ve barely been eating.

And, I’ve been waiting for this day.

My complete and utter breakdown.

The day the depression brings me to my knees.

Catharsis.

Why was the death of a dog such a big deal? How could something like that move me to the tears I so needed to shed?

Easy.

Despite my… complicated… relationship with my mother, she was a UConn grad, too. There was always a little bit of me that wished - that still wishes, if we’re to be honest (and when have I ever lied here?) - that she could have been there for those years. She was already dead by the time I was applying for colleges. Didn’t know that UConn was the absolute last school I wanted to go to. Because of her. Didn’t know that it was the only school I applied to. Also because of her… and that’s a story for another time. I’m already fucked up enough without revisiting that time of my life.

Standing at the practice field, staring at the Towers dorms. Dating a guy who actually lived in her fucking building. Having to walk past what was her room. She had left enough of her behind in a scrapbook that I was able to find her fucking room. And I don’t think I ever told the boyfriend that… maybe in passing, but not in enough detail.

SO. UConn. It was a place where I was able to finally define myself as something other than Helen’s daughter (even if I carried that weight around for four years). I lived through so much craziness over four years and I don’t regret a moment of it. We always wind up where we’re supposed to be, even if we don’t know it at the time.

Going to UConn was the beginning of a wild ride… again, it was a decision I will never regret and I will always be proud to be a Husky… and a hussy, because we’re Bus 4, after all. And a white Jonathan will - even after all this time - be my husky.

And the last white one is gone. With a generic husky taking his place.

My UConn is gone.

My mother’s UConn is gone.

Replaced with an imposter.

And, while you may not understand why, it hurts. Badly.

To make matters even worse, I just finished a piece of Drarry fan fic that has brought me to tears over the past two days.

Fuck, I wish I could write like that.

Seriously.

It started with Draco in New York, recreating himself, working with at-risk kids and turning his back on all things magical and Malfoy. He ends up sharing dreams with Harry, and it is like the slowest burns of slow burns. Of course, I didn’t cry when Evan killed himself. I didn’t cry at the too real emotions that Draco was going through. Nope. I bawled like a fucking baby when Harry showed up in New York. And then I cried harder when he left. And then I cried even harder when he came back. It. Was. Beautiful. I love when fics break me like that. I really do.

Oddly enough, that level of heartache spurred me on to clean up the mess I made in the Otayuri fic I’ve been working on… until that vicious editor in my head decided to speak up. Yes, editor, I gave up on the slow burn. No, that wasn’t what I wanted to do. No, there won’t be any age-inappropriate scenarios. Yes, this is all Otabek Altin’s fucking fault. Three drafts, three fucking drafts, and he’s all ‘eyes of a soldier’ and Люди могут забыть, что вы сказали. Могут забыть, что вы сделали. Но никогда не забудут, что вы заставили их почувствовать. People will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.  (God bless Google and Russian language blogs for giving me the ultimate apology quote…)

But the editor did what they set out to do and, well, imposter syndrome.

So, I just wasted a bunch of time rereading all seven of my published fan fics, all the comments, and just started at my statistics.

I’m never going to be a Sara’s Girl, or bixgirl1, but they all did better than I would have thought.

For me, not you, I submit the following for those days when I feel like I can no longer make the words do the thing good because englishing is hard:

 

 

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