Confessions of a Self-Depreciating Fangirl, Part 2

As I was saying, something happened the other day. I became suddenly aware - and obsessed - with a new celebrity.

In case you haven't noticed by his sudden appearance/mention on this blog, it's Benedict Cumberbatch.

Yes, poor Benedict Cumberbatch, poor, poor Benedict Cumberbatch, who has girls declaring themselves to be his future wife because he, unlike so many celebrities fangirls pine over, IS UNMARRIED.

Not that it stops fangirls from obsessing over married celebrities but, you know, the potentiality of this situation not ending tears is slightly less from the fangirl perspective. Here's how it reads to them:

He's not married! He's so talented! He's so handsome - and those cheekbones! And that voice!* If I could meet him - it'd be perfect!

*They always mention his cheekbones. And his voice. Yes, I did bring up his voice before - he sounds like he could be related to Alan Rickman and it's fucking brilliant. But the repetition of the cheekbones thing... yes, he has a very nice facial structure. But talking about slicing tomatoes with his cheekbones... too far, girls. Way too far... 

I had some variation of this thought the other day (minus the cheekbone bit). Part of it ended up in my Sherlock post, as you might have noticed. Which was nothing abnormal - I talk about celebrities. A LOT (and dammit, he DOES have a fabulous name). But I found myself realizing I'd latched on to this fangirl idea of getting married to a celeb. And I freaked.

Okay, a brief history of me as a tween. I began my earliest fangirling when The Lord of the Rings movies came out (Aragorn all the way, baby). And I went pretty hardcore when Gerard Butler played Erik in The Phantom of the Opera. However, I was fourteen, and had absolutely no interest in dating anyone, no matter how wonderful and famous they were. Because I was fourteen and really yet unaware about life in general. Point is, I was not like other teenage girls who were buying shirts that said, "Mrs. Pitt" and "Mrs. Affleck" from Claire's and convinced that somehow, despite the thousands of girls who were wearing those shirts, they were all going to end up married to said celebrities. Even at the age of fourteen, I thought this was baloney.

So somehow, between the ages of fourteen and twenty-one, I've regressed immensely, to a prior state I was never actually at (well, there was a sort of similar instance where for a few days I thought I might actually get an acceptance letter to Hogwarts, but that didn't last too long for me. I wasn't feeling too secure about my studious nature at the time).

Here's probably how it happened: I'm on Tumblr, ensconced amongst all these photos of celebrities, and suddenly I start seeing all these posts about peeps being fanatic about their favorite celebrities. It starts to look normal to me, and I find myself slipping in and doing the same thing. I found who Benedict Cumberbatch was in part BECAUSE OF Tumblr. But here's where it went different, where it didn't morph into a previous favorite actor obsession: the first thing that really caught my attention wasn't just a photo; it was a quote from some article where Cumberbatch - according to a Tumblr user quoting the article ("I saw it on the internet, it's definitely true.") - said that his biggest regret was not having kids by the age of 32.

Whomp. Just like that I was suddenly, emotionally attached to a man I've never met. This is not unusual - this has happened a bajillion times. What WAS different was how I reacted to it, that I didn't just care that he was attractive and intelligent and talented; no, I also cared about his emotional well-being on a level I can honestly say I've never reached before for a person I've never met, never seen in person, never in lived in the same country as. That was warning sign number 1.

Warning sign number 2 was spending more time on Tumblr than on anything else - even my fictional writing. Not because I talk to people on there (I really don't; I don't get how that works with just an ask box and a bunch of photos). No, it was because I wanted to see all of these new photos of my new favorite actor and share in the experience of people knowing who he is. And slowly, I realized I was getting jealous of the other people out there who I once sympathized with; where once I felt we bonded, I suddenly felt jealous of; as if they were trying to prove themselves a better fan than me. Big old warning sign number 3.

And then yesterday, I was on Tumblr and I saw this gif set I'd seen before: Cumberbatch dancing to "Thriller" at a party. Only there were a bunch of comments talking about how it had been stolen from a Facebook profile and that it was not meant to be shown to the public. Tumblr people were asking for it to be deleted and not reblogged and to address whoever had originally posted it it. But it was too late. I was incredibly creeped out.

I began wondering... How may of these other photos out there are NOT supposed to be released to the Internet? And not just for Cumberbatch - for Michael Fassbender, David Tennant, etc. etc. etc. What do these guys actually think of their fans? I mean, I want to be a famous writer - how would I feel if people posted this sort of stuff about me? (Freaked. Totally freaked. I'd appreciate it at first but then once I started seeing stuff about me everywhere, I'd totally flip out.) So why would we treat actors any different than we'd treat ourselves?

Because we idolize them. Honestly, if I met one of the actors I've mentioned, I have no idea how I'd react. I can't truly imagine it. Well, I mean I do imagine it but it's not authentic. In my mind, I'm all cool and collected. In reality, I'd probably be having a fit and pass out or just be too nervous to even say anything.

So there's this conundrum here - the want to treat actors like you would anyone else (because, after all, that's probably what they want and if you want hang out with an actor, you don't want to be the crazy one who's built a shrine out of printer paper and teacups in your room), but also the need to respect them, to express your admiration (which then gets totally carried away here). And you get stuck in fangirling.

So why do we do this to ourselves? Well, fangirling is easier than some other options. Let me explain:

1) As I've mentioned before, it's less riskier than actually getting involved in relationships. Here, the only person who can break your heart is reality - and even that can be eluded for an extended period of time.You keep telling yourself that anything is possible and that you could totally wind up marrying someone famous someday. And you keep those voices in your head telling you you're just being silly silent a while longer.

2) It's easier to let it go than fight it, especially if you're in school. I mean, I sat through 30 plus minutes today in a lecture, discussing the flaws in an experiment. 70% of the things students said were confounds WEREN'T and we spent forever discussing why so. Unfortunately for me, I get this stuff within the first five minutes. And for some inexplicable reason, even as a junior, college is boring for me. So I spend the rest of class bored out of my mind and daydreaming, wishing for an escape. It's no wonder that I want to be swept off my feet by some dashing actor.

3) In relation to the first point, there's this predominate feeling that a lot of these fangirls don't have boyfriends and can't get boyfriends, for whatever reasons. Boys ignore them, they get "friend zoned," they just have bad luck... you get the idea. You know my story. So, it's like this decision that since they can't get a normal guy, they might as well reach for the stars and dream of something impossible.

This all sounds rather sad and disturbing and disheartening, I know. I'm sure all fangirls aren't this way, but the more time I spend on Tumblr, the more I see girls like this. It makes me realize that this part of myself - this repression of obsessing with actors, inability to get a normal boyfriend, dreaming of perfection - isn't as abnormal as I'd thought. But now this powerful, potent release is no longer comforting. It's terrifying. I'm no longer alone, but I still feel the urge to run away from myself. I hate myself for acting this way. But I just feel more insecure, more trapped by my own life - trapped by school, trapped by circumstances, trapped by things I have to do but don't want to - and I'm back to wanting to escape as I was before.

And as much as daydreaming can be fun and wonderful, it can also be dangerous. You've got a good picture of why. My friend [X] once said that most of her life is lived in her head, which I found profoundly sad. Not having actual actions, just dreaming out what you want to do rather than actually being able to do it. While the importance of imagination is great, its power can go too far.

Perhaps my want for action is what made this situation different. I had the sudden urge to meet Mister Cumberbatch. Okay, obviously fan girls want to meet all of their favorite celebrities. I want to meet John Barrowman, but more out of a "wow, we'd be great friends; I feel like I already know him" vein. This current case is markedly different. This is more like, "Hey, I know nothing about him, but I feel like I understand him better than anyone else." Which is totally weird. And probably what 80% of other fan girls feel. So tough shit for me.

However, also in combination with this is the whole issue with photos and videos being released that aren't supposed to be, in which I feel the desire to prove that not all fans are not so incredibly creepy. Which is impossible to do while feeling like a creep. So of course I found myself trying to not be creepy, to try to be a fan without being totally mental about it - an elegant, mature adult who just happens to fancy an actor. While all the time, in the back of my mind, I'm trying to figure out how I could get to London and "stumble across" Cumberbatch during the Olympics or something as equally absurd (because, you know, out of 7 million people there plus however many millions will attend the Olympics, I'm going to be able to find ANYONE). It's a like a constant battle, trying to not feel like a tween about this (it's interesting that all the imagery about fangirling comes from young girls. But that's a topic for another time). And now all this self-reflection, and reflecting upon reflection, is a bit much. I've just got a whole lot of words on a page and no clear idea of where to go from here. All I know is that I want to be recognized for who I am, not a mindless, faceless fanatic. So I'm limiting my time on Tumblr, reminding myself that actors or people to (unlike what Max Bialystok might say in The Producers), and that I am young and naive and very good at being both things and that I might as well accept that I'm going to do stupid stuff. But the least I can do is limit the embarrassment I cause for myself and for others. Because these actors I adore so much deserve better than... whatever this attempt at explanation and apologizing this is. Sorry, great thespians, and, while I won't pretend that you're reading this, I extend an apologia for this league of fangirls. And an extra expression of regret to the fine Mr. Cumberbatch as the unknowing example in this RIDICULOUSLY LONG post (many apologies, dear sir... you've been dragged into the realm of cultural theorizing.). And since this really is an on-going tale and I've no idea how to close this, I'm just going to stop... right... here.

Confessions of a Self-Depreciating Fangirl

I am in denial that this semester is happening. Really. I just remembered today that I have an essay due in my Comedy class (which sounds like a lot more fun than it actually is) next Thursday. And I have a test on Monday in Research Methods. And I have to find research articles for my Research Methods paper. And I have to accept myself that I'm back in school and that, yes, once again, I have found myself swamped with work and sick and living half of my life in mental fantasies that will never, ever happen - this week's includes John Barrowman singing Cole Porter and Benedict Cumberbatch reading great English literature to me while I curl up all warm and cozy on the couch, sneezing (elegantly and lady-like, as if such sort of sneezing was possible) and drinking Earl Grey tea. Like I said, totally impossible. The best I can do is hole up in Espresso Royale between classes and drink Spanish Lattes and read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Charlotte Bronte and try not to panic over having absolutely no control over this semester. And life in general.

I mean, where the hell is this year going? It just started and already we're in the first full week of February! I'm sitting here, with a watch around my neck, and time's all just ticking by me. It's kind of unnerving.

Oh, and I think I got Mo, [Львица]'s cat, sick. I know that diseases aren't supposed to transfer from human to cat, but Mo slept on my bed last night and it was fantastic and comforting, but now she's sneezing. I just feel like everything I'm trying to do to make things easier for myself backfires.

Like writing this blog. I should totally be doing some homework, or essay writing, or research planning, or internship hunting. But I just can't make myself care about those things right now. I need to stop working for a few minutes, to breathe and relax and tell myself I'm not going to break down (and all in the back of my head, I'm thinking about all the stuff we're talking about in my classes, about how the Industrial Revolution has made us all machine-like and it's freaking me out). I go on Tumblr to chill out and see fun pix of my favorite shows and movies, but instead I just get visually attacked by totally beautiful European men - okay, okay British and a couple Irish men, you win, [Львица] - (Barrowman, Cumberbatch, David Tennant, Ewan McGregor, Michael Fassbender, Colin Firth, Martin Freeman, James McAvoy, the list continues and seems to grow everyday...) and I feel stalker-ish and, well, for lack of a better word, weird.

Let me set this up for you: I have this absurd desire to be famous. Wow, okay, who doesn't, right? Actually, I never used to care about that sort of thing (well, maybe I did, but I'd convinced myself otherwise). Then something happened - A) I realized that 75% of the people I knew in high school didn't know who I was,* B) I wasn't going to be able to me a music teacher and change lives in a small, sweet way like Mr. Holland, and C) If I couldn't do what I originally planned, then dammit I might was well go big and become the next big American writer. Or some shit like that. And people were finally going to appreciate me and care and it didn't matter that most of my teachers couldn't remember my name and I never got asked to Homecoming or Prom and that one little asshole in my AP Psych class insinuated that I'd never get married. No, none of that would matter when I could roll up to our high school reunion as a fucking millionaire and a best-selling author. And that the fact that they never thought I was cool was an utterly moot point. This is not original. I know. But it's how I've felt since graduation, and it's how I still feel now.

* I'll never forget the time [Broadway Baby] was trying to convince me that people liked me and he asked this guy named Sam who was walking by, "Hey, Sam, do you like [La Maga]?" To which he replied, "Who's [La Maga]?" I'm pretty sure this was a common reaction for most people. Even in my graduating class (which had around 400 people, mind you. My school had 2000 students, so maybe I should stop whining and be glad anyone knew me at all).

So I have an obsession with fame. How American. In turn, I have an obsession with famous people (which I have discussed multitudes of times and will continue to discuss, because I'm a CSCL major and that's what we do. And I just have a lot of feelings). I also have an unfortunate trend of thinking that actors who happen to play my favorite characters or characters I grow to love, who are very handsome/charming/dashing, and say something that I happen to agree with are suddenly the EXACT MAN I AM LOOKING FOR IN MY LIFE. I am not alone in this happening - I see it all across Tumblr. Which is a great sort of, "Hey, look, I'm not alone!" tool - which is nice for the first few weeks. But then you - okay, I - started to get creeped out. Because it's just SO MUCH FANGIRLING.

I can understand a little bit. Okay, John Barrowman is one gorgeous man - I have stated that far too much on this blog. In fact, I had a page in which to try to focus some of the fangirling so as not to make a bunch of nonsense posts. But then I looked at it today and thought it was creepy. So sadly, it is no more. You're welcome, John Barrowman. Not that you read this. Unless you do...

See? See what I did there? FANGIRLS THINK THIS ALL THE TIME. They think that their favorite celebrity is secretly reading their blogs. They think that for some reason, Mr. Famous Talented Handsome Celebrity will swoop down from his very busy, hectic life into their very dull, mundane ones and sweep them off their feet to some exquisite life full of roses and awards shows and awesomeness. I am not making fun of fangirls out of spite. Because I find myself wishing for these same things.

And you know another thing that's stupid? Oscar Season and Valentine's Day - two things that should NOT be this close together. For the sake of the fangirls, it's very, very dangerous. I was wondering if anyone's ever tried to crash the Oscars in order to see their favorite actor (probably yes. I feel like it'd be pretty easy - get a nice dress, tell them you're a Baldwin, you're in). Also, Valentine's Day produces a deep melancholia for most people who are of the single state. Which only doubles the power of the fangirl obsession.

I could very easily let myself continue down this path of constantly blogging photos of celebrities I have crushes on and flipping out over them and being totally obsessive, like a little kid watching a puppy in a shop window (wow, nice self-depreciating imagery there, right? Demeaning actors into puppy-like images. I can't decide if that's truthful or too harsh a way of describing this phenomenon). But the other day, something happened. Maybe it's because I'm tired of feeling stuck between the ages of fifteen and thirty. Maybe it's because my mind is being enlightened because of my On Television class. Maybe it's because my fangirling went to a whole new level.

Regardless, this the longest blog I've written this year. But it's a bit too long. So I'm going to continue this in part two. Readers beware.

Ashamed

http://www.babble.com/

This article came rolling around on my Tumblr dashboard last night and before I even opened it, I had a gut instinct as to what it was going to be about.

I absolutely hate it when I'm right in situations like this.

Sure enough, this Rolling Stone article is talking about Anoka, Minnesota. A town that's only a half-hour away from where I'm sitting now. A town that's cute and picturesque and is the "Halloween Capital of the World" and has a really good restaurant called Serum's.

It is also now the most hated place in America by people I follow on Tumblr. Because nine teens have killed themselves there in under two years because of gay bullying.

Also, it just happens to be Michele Bachmann's district.

Think I'm mad? HELL YES.

Minnesota gets in The Rollings Stones. And what for? GAY BULLYING. IN A TOWN THAT'S ONLY A HALF HOUR AWAY FROM WHAT'S BEEN CALLED "THE GAYEST CITY IN AMERICA."

FUCK.

Ugh. I'm just so upset. Here I am, in my secure little college, going to the Saloon and the Gay 90s and feeling like a great ally and all this and then I read THIS.

It really, really bothers me. And, instead of just sitting here and blogging about it, I'm going to write a letter to Representative Bachmann. It may not make a difference - but it's better than nothing. Minnesota is better than this.

Shadows

I was on the vast world of Tumblr today when I noticed something: one of the blogs I followed early on, eirwencorentin, hadn't posted anything for days. I really like the photos he or she posts (I've assume it's a she but I actually don't know - I could be wrong. Thus I will hense forth refer to him or her as ze - and use the chance to practice using gender neutral pronouns) - lots of beautiful outdoor scenes and magical-looking buildings and Parisian-inspired things and Doctor Who and Anime and tea. But I realized that I hadn't seen ze post anything for a while and I was wondering why (because usually ze posts something everyday). I went to zir home page and saw this as zir most recent post:

My resolution for 2012 is to die. That’s why this tumblr won’t be updated anymore.

This really freaked me out. I mean, I never really got the feeling that this person was particularly depressed - not over all. Ze posted some disturbing things - this was the second most recent post and similar to something I'd seen a month or so ago:

When I'd seen previous posts like this, I felt confused. They were usually reblogs and they just didn't seem to fit anything else ze posted. But I, of course, don't know this person. I never talked to them online. I never really interacted with ze any more than liking and reblogging zir posts. I don't know much of anything about this person. But it's still really worrying. What if ze did commit suicide? What if zir dead? How would I ever know?

It's one of the things I don't like about Tumblr - it's a bonding source for people who have a lot of depression issues and think about committing suicide. And not a good sort of a bonding. The sort that convinces people it would be better if they just ended their lives. Which in my opinion is not the best source of support.

I've never dealt with serious depression. I've never seriously, realistically considered committing suicide - I have in certain instances, when I'm upset beyond thinking clearly and feeling shitty and not thinking about my life outside this one instance. But the thought repels me even as it appears - I know deep down that I'm not really going to do it; it's just a sudden, almost inappropriate gut reaction it seems. I'm not one who has thoughts every day of wanting to end their life, of suffering depression so great they can't function. My depression - if you could even call it that - it is far smaller and non-continuous, sporadic and not serious. But I know how serious depression can really be - it's a fight every day to get out of bed, to keep moving, to not give up. Some days I have to fight a bit, most I don't. But to have to fight every day, every minute, is a sort of exhaustion I truly do not know.

Eirwen Corentin - the only name I know you by - I hope you are still out there, somewhere, fighting. I can't begin to understand what you've gone through, or why or how, but I hope you haven't given in to the shadows, that you haven't fallen into seeing the world only in terms of light and dark and all you can see is darkness. Because there is so much to see beyond the dark, beyond the shadows, so much to live for when you can find a way to know that darkness is not absolute.

But I'll never know if you did, will I? I'll never know. It's too little, too late, from the wrong person. All I can do is wait and see if you come back to your blog... just wait. And hope.

SOPA, Part II

I hope this is all a big misunderstanding between internet users and the US government. Because Tumblr is totally freaking me out today with this censorship thing. But according to [Львица]'s sister, it's "IRS spam." Or, later, as she said, "Congress wants to end my life. Cool!" Ah, the life of American teenagers... and the crux of first world problems.

SOPA, or: If this is real, my blogging career is over

So I saw this on Tumblr like five minutes ago: If SOPA passes, the following sites could be blocked for US users.

WHAT. THE. HELL.

Here's an article about it.

A Minnesota senator, OUR AMY KLOBUCHAR, supports it.

Really, guys? REALLY?

I don't know if it would actually block Facebook and Twitter from US users. I can't seem to find any articles to support that. However, I can find a website about American Censorship Day, claiming that Facebook will be gone from my life. Along with Twitter, Tumblr, Megavideo - no more Doctor Who and Torchwood! :( - and no YouTube. Not to mention that it seems this blog will cease to exist. Did I make the gifs I put on here? Did I take the photos (some of them, yes). But overall, nada. Call me a pirate. Me and like 90 some percent of my generation.

If this is real, then my creative outlets, innovation sites and business tools are kaput. My hopes of finding an outlet to practice writing, create a web presence and beef up a resume are gone. The chance of aspiring musicians, actors, entertainers, etc to express themselves and post their work will be made far more difficult to attain. So we watch TV shows for free and we sing covers of our favorite songs - guess what? I bet for every song we sing and TV show we watch, we BUY something that compensates. Yes, I watch Torchwood on Megavideo. But I'm planning on buying the seasons and I buy other merch. So we consumers are still buying stuff, if that's your worry. We're not going to fuck you over, music/movie/media industries. We LIKE you. We buy stuff, we do. We respect what you do. We just don't like spending loads of money for single songs, TV seasons, cable. And if you haven't noticed, American TV is ridiculous and Netflix has decided to suck. So... can you really blame us?

I don't like censorship. Lemme just make that clear. I don't usually get super in-your-face political, but this is something I really care about. I love how accessible the internet is - anyone can post anything. Yes, that causes problems - LOTS of problems. But seriously, I think this is the least of your worries. Could you maybe work on catching people who post child porn or something? That seems a little more vital to the integrity of our country than, you know, the guy at the U of such-and-such downloading a Katy Perry song for free. IMHO.

So if you happen to be as outraged as me and worried just enough that this totally legitimate, visit the American Censorship Day website and sign their petition. Let's just hope this is just a lot of ruckus over something that won't pass, that we've overblown into a monstrosity. But these days - who knows?

I can't tell if I'm going more anarchist or more libertarian. God help us all if I become either one.

The Dangers of Tequila

I love this too much not to share it:

Keanu Reeves... is a vampire?!

So somebody in my Italian class brought this up today (because we clearly weren't doing anything important, not without an instructor there):

Keanu Reeves is a vampire.

Thank God for Tumblr. I don't know what I did without it (had a lot harder time of finding photos and shit, that's what).

So all because of this painting of a French actor from the 1800s whose body was never found, Reeves has joined the ranks of time-traveling Travolta and undead Nicholas Cage. More celebrities looking like people who are supposed to be dead. Where did this phenomenon come from?!

I don't know... but I'm digging it. Gives me something bizarre to blog about right before Halloween. By the way, Keanu Reeves, if you really are a vampire, can you and vampire Nicholas Cage make Twilight stop? 'Kay, thanks.

Daydreamer

I'm feeling a bit inspired by another post I came across today: Footwear as Political Salve and [Львица]'s post on Zachary Quinto. So I feel like talking about daydreaming myself. Especially since today's daydreaming consisted of meeting a hot celebrity (which is generally how my ludicrous daydreams seem to go).

I seriously spent like half of today thinking about meeting this guy:

*smolder* I'm John Barrowman.*smolder*

Yep. Thank you, Torchwood, for making me a John Barrowman fan girl. I am now way too emotionally attached to a TV show few people in this country has heard of, photo-stalking celebrities once more, and have fallen again for a taken gay man. I'm sure Barrowman would be just thrilled to know he has a crazy, single straight white girl blogging about him (hey, crazy single straight white girl wouldn't be a bad title for a book...)

Anyway... God, I can't think with this picture on screen. It's terribly distracting. I don't even remember why I wrote this post anymore. Oh yeah, I remember why...

This is from barrowmanilove, a Tumblr page discovered by [Львица]. This conversation,  posted under one of the millions of pictures on the blog, is between barrowmanilove and another Tumblr fan/follower:

barrowmanilove: Sigh… I wanna passionately make out with John Barrowman…….*pout*

phantomjoy: You and me both darlin’ ..you and me both. *sighs*

barrowmanilove: He has been known to kiss a couple ladies to see them blush. ;) 

phantomjoy: yeah, and i wish i were one of those ladies!!

Thanks, barrowmanilove, for putting that idea in my head for the rest of the day. I don't obsess over celebrities to the extend of barrowmanilove... but that doesn't mean I don't obsess at all. I'm blogging about it, goddammit. Clearly it's occupying my thoughts a lot more than other things today. (And a brief note and a tangent; I'm incredibly easily embarrassed. You want to see a lady blush, John Barrowman? All you'd have to do is stand there and I'd be turning redder than a sunburned ginger {my apologies to [Львица] and all other gingers. I couldn't think of any other similes. My brain isn't working so well today if you haven't noticed}.)

Glasses... kilt... puppy in a sweater! Now I think he's just doing this on purpose..

Because I have an overly critical sense of introspection, I of course feel like some sort of pervert for having celebrity crushes. But we've already done this song and dance (see Starstruck). So I won't harp on it again. However, I will awkwardly describe an issue I seem to have. It's called the need to continually be daydreaming about a guy.

See, I've been pretty good about not obsessing over celebrities a ton for a while there. I went through a Paul Bettany obsession after I got back from Scotland, but that was it. It helped me get through the worst of whatever happened between [No-Mr-Darcy] and me. But I swore to myself, no more of the endless needing/clinging to the feeling of crushes, wanting to be in love, etc. I was going to be totally single in my mind and be totally fine with it.

Fail. Total fail.

Not just because I started watching Torchwood. I would have crushed on someone eventually - another actor, a classmate, who knows. But Barrowman is a much better alternative. And he's incredibly good-looking. And I just totally suck at not thinking about being single. I mean, it's like trying not to think of a pink elephant - because then you totally do.

I think this stupid funk I've been in has been greatly due to the fact that I haven't allowed myself stupid daydreams like this. I'm trying to pretend that I'm 100% happy being single when I'm not. And even though it's stupid to compensate with something false, I did feel 200 times better today than I have in quite a while. Less like I'm becoming numb. More like a good old Romantic me and less like a cynical nihilist.

Of course, I'm still not satisfied with that answer. I mean, I still feel like a creep. Lemme put it this way - would you like being in a serious relationship and having people say they want to make out with you all the time? Weird, right?

But considering what I just saw on Facebook like five seconds ago, I'm suddenly really really glad that today was the day I caved in to the hotness that is John Barrowman, as much as it might give me some sort of cognitive dissonance or morality issues. Because I just found out [No-Mr-Darcy] has a girlfriend. Actually I think he got back together with his ex. How about them apples. You know how I feel about that? Relieved. She deserved a second chance. And I could tell just from Facebook that she really f-ing likes him. More than I did. Good for you, girl. I'm glad this saga is done with.

Of course, I'm trapped in another celebrity crush. But what the fuck. Maybe I deserve a little stupid girly fan-girl rampaging. I am my own woman - I know that. So why not kick back and be a bit daft for now? And randomly use British slang...

Again with the updating... and the changing...

Yes, yes, I know. I changed how the blog looks again. But I just got a Tumblr (yay for Tumblr! Check it out at http://culturevulture0.tumblr.com/) and, after doing the whole layout thing, I realized that the orange here is tad to harsh on the eyes. So I went with a nice "soft, coal black." So yeah. There you go. Enjoy the new layout.