In Which The Author Rants Quite Pathetically About the Wiles of Technology, the Social Pratfalls that Await Aplenty, and the Multi-Mouthed Beast of Fanfiction

Blavatar? What the flying tap-dacing fuck is that?

Oh, wait, I found it.

Now where do I put….

Oh wait, I found it.

Okay, I now am the proud owner of a blavatar. Does it show? Can anyone see it? I can’t see it.

Oh wait, I found it.

And that, in a nutshell, is me and technology. Ask stupid questions, then poke it with a stick until it obeys, all while ignoring the glaringly obvious. All in a day’s work!

So university classes started yesterday and already I’m like “Nooooo, I don’t wannaaaaa….”. Suddenly I have the overwhelming urge to stay in bed and do nothing. Like… more than usual. I almost miss those jobless, study-less, unproductive days of… two months ago. Also, it was warmer. We’ve reached the annoying part of our weather cycle where your toes freeze off in the morning, but by lunch time you die of heat stroke. I have no idea what to wear (like… more than usual) and I don’t want to carry my coat around, but I don’t wanna be cold, and warrgarrbl, I need a temperature control suit over here!

I’m currently doping myself up with satsumas for that extra vitamin C but I fear that it won’t help and I’ll get First Week Cold anyway. It’s always like this, start of the semester, weird cold-then-warm weather, hundreds of thousands of new people running all over the place, stress over seminar rooms and first assignments and books, being locked up with 20 to 549 persons and their germs in a room for a couple hours, aaaaand there you go, coughing, sneezing, the works, for about a week until your system acclimatises. No matter how often you wash and disinfect your hands. After all, you can’t disinfect your lungs, and wearing a hygienic face mask while in company is considered rather rude. Nuts.

Another annoying thing about the start of semester: meeting people that you know you’ve seen before, that you had a class with, but can you remember? No! Of course not! It’s like not being able to remember that one actor’s name (you know, the one with the eyes… and the nose… you know, the one with the face…), only there’s no IMDB to look up your colleagues. Did we have that course with prof X? Did we work on Y project? And then the anxiety starts: Did I say something stupid to this person, ever? Oh dear gods, please don’t let them remember if I said anything stupid! Was I being weird and awkward? Please don’t let them remember I was being weird and awkward!

Sometimes I don’t know which is worse, meeting someone new, or meeting someone who may or may not have been around when I made that joke about superhero porn.

And slowly but surely I have to face a terrible fact: I need to think about an actual topic for my thesis. I’d love to do something with scifi or fanfiction or both, but well… not sure if I can find a supervisor for either of that (old people be all up in this place). So right now I’m just digging through all other theses, master or otherwise, to see what all those who came before me got away with.

I’m not even sure what exactly I want to do, much less what theoretical approach to do it with. I’m thinking about something William Gibson, or Isaac Asimov, or cyberpunk in general for scifi, and I have no idea whatsoever what would be a good topic for fanfiction. I guess I could do something with the representation of female Original Characters, which, for the most part, are basically the authoress with better skin and bigger boobs (to everyone doing this: you are so transparent. Soooo transparent.), usually in a world where her clumsiness and awkwardness are not clumsy and awkward but attractive, endearing (and used as plot device every chance the author gets), and generally just the regular traits of a Girl With A Great Personality (Who Just So Happens To Be Smoking Hot But Doesn’t Realise It Because She’s Sooo Humble).

(Face it, girls, we’re all clumsy and awkward, and we don’t always know what we’re doing, and we’re overwhelmed by our daily lives, and we all look like shit, but it’s okay. It’s just how we were raised to think about ourselves in order to crush our self esteem and keep us preoccupied with insignificant things to make it easier for the patriarchy to continue. So get over it already and start writing something interesting.)

Seriously, not every story has to be “character I want to bang meets my more polished self”. Not every story that has an antagonist that you happen to find hot must run along the lines of “my more polished self will help wake the good side of bad character whatshisnuts because he doesn’t mean to be evil, he’s just misunderstooood”. If I want misunderstood I listen to Bon Jovi! For the love of kittens and sparkly unicorns, write something interesting! Because the only interesting thing in your story right now? That’s your own very obvious, hm, shall we say, idiosyncrasy. Get. Help. (You can’t write idiosyncrasy without ‘crazy’, amirite?)

And now all the unicorns are dead, good job.

As for the male writers, stop living out your hero fantasies, no one is impressed, you are not the big alpha male leader Sith/Jedi/knight/ranger/space cowboy/toaster strudel, how could you, you can’t even properly capitalize your words, not to mention your use of they’re/their/there (for English stories) and/or der/den/dem (for German stories), and we all know you don’t know how to properly “wield” your “light saber”, but I’m sure your low-self-esteem-girlfriend (who at the moment is furiously typing her imaginary sex with Avengers-Loki, Thor may or may not be involved as well) loves you anyway (at least until she learns to love herself.) (I like parentheses, so sue me.)

I realise of course I’m making this sound like only weird lonely individuals who are partial to escapism write fanfiction, which is an unfair judgment and I can assure you it is absolutely true. Just look at me!

Alright, enough with the fanfiction rant. You can always tell I like a topic when I present all its faults in excruciatingly boring detail. And oh, let me count the ways….

Anyway, did this post have a point? Oh, yes, it did. There.

.

(Alas, my jokes are never funny…)

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