This is why you're single, honey...

Fanfiction. That’s the simple reason. Really. The whole concept has been playing on my mind a lot recently, which is a slight nuisance as I’ve been trying to wring the bloody thing of everything I know on Psychology for the past week, but nevertheless fanfiction has been playing on my frontal lobe a little more than usual lately.
I guess I should start with the basic: I’m more of a ‘band-slash’ kind of girl than anything else, but my taste is mainly focused on the fictitous endeavours of a certain Gerard Way and Frank Iero (MCR obsessive-ness poking through a little bit. Watch out for that m’dears!), but other than that, I don’t read that much of it. It seems that for every good piece of fanfiction, there are about ten absolutly ghastly ones, and trying to locate the few well written, well plotted fics is nothing short of finding a strand of hay in a stack on needles - much more painful and mentally scarring than the lighthearted ‘hay stack’ alternative.
If I’m honest, I like to think of myself a sort of ‘Fanfiction Connoisseur’; the Stephen Fry of the online BandSlash community.”There is good fanfiction, and bad fanfiction,my dearest fangirls and the way you can tell which is which...”. Alas, there are areas on Fanfics that piss me off, to no freaking end! For example, the stereotypical exaggerrated personality. Here’s the gist: Frank Iero is the youngest, and smallest member of the band and can occasionally be quite childish, so in attempts to highlight (and to be funny and FAIL at it) the fic writer will exaggerrate him massively, to the point where he’s banging his fists on the floor, having tantrums and talking like he has a speech impediment: “But I wuv you, Gewarrrd!!”. Such is the curse of thirteen year old writers. Next, is the infamous ‘Mary-Sue’ issue. Those of you familiar with the concept will know that it is taboo when writing to implement a ‘Mary-Sue’ type character into your fic, thus raping your fic of any realism and dignity, and frankly damming your good self as a writer (which is I refrain at all costs from asserting a character based on myself in any shape or form into a fic. Such an act would be blasphemy.)
I guess the thing that’s been nagging me is the ‘moral’ side of it. Is it disrespectful to write stories about married guys falling in homosexual love? Well, sure it is, yet we still do it. They themselves hate it, obviously, and they urge us not to indulge those slightly pornographic delights, or to at least not publish them on the web. But, yet again, we still do it! In fact, the amount of fanfiction seems to increase ten-fold with every album! (INSANITY!!!) It confuses me... sometimes, I disgust myself with how I smile at the meer mention of the word ‘Frerard’, yet I don’t even try and hide that utter delight. I guess I’m not that ashamed of it, because I’m not the only one.
I guess you’re all pondering that title, right? Simple. I can’t get a boyfriend, which is why I find myself so utterly infatuated with fanfiction. It’s a curse and a weakness, t’is.

Until next time...

X

Do it now and do it loud...

It was just a few months ago now that I was sitting, still in my High School uniform, in the careers office, about to tell a stranger that I'm sixteen years of age and have absolutely no idea what I was going to do with my life. Truth is, I had ideas that I would entertain every now and again: artist, historian, and I would spend months under these pretences of professionalism, feigning interest in WWII programmes and sketching like I was being paid for it. It was tiring if I'm honest, and there came a time when, after months of putting it off I crawled into the careers office, clutching an appointment card and a pen. It was embarrassing in a way, confessing to such utter cluelessness when everyone else was perfectly in the know; Yolanda with her books on medicine, Chris with his infinite knowledge of RAF strategies and engineering goo-gah, and me, with my Sony Walkman and manga books. Yes, I hopeless, and with that mindset, I fell into a classroom chair infront of a careers woman-thingy, deflating with apathy.

Half an hour later, I came out of the office, still holding my appointment card, only now it was in several pieces - surprisingly, I got bored - and with this insignificant, unhelpful, and frankly S*** piece of advice, which was to become the foundations of my livelihood and income for the rest of my life: Research.

Yes, she told me to research. Sorry for dragging you all into this post but the fact is that interview didn't help me all that much. I was still left confused, disheartened, bored. I already knew I liked to write, damn, I did it a lot. It was nice, I guess, just writing down your thoughts. Journalism and all the rest of it, I had considered them, but they seemed unreachable, a little too far-fetched. The journalism business, I have been told, is a bloody and violent battle ground, and a plan to get into that career seemed a little difficult to orchestrate. Nevertheless, if there is one thing that interview told me, is that I had to figure it out for myself, and if I couldn't find a sensible path to take, I would just have to go with the only one available, no matter how hard or over-ambitious it would be. So here I am, justifying the creation of my blog by telling you that really, my writing is the only thing really going for me. Yes, I know it seems a little shoddy right now, but alas, I typed this up in a matter of minutes, no drafting or spellcheck *spots spellcheck button on blogger*. Oh.

This blog is for me to practice, to get my writing out to a larger scope than just fellow fan-fiction connoisseurs and to maybe even get some comments and feedback. I mean, you never know, people might like me.