I live in a state of limbo, emo sometimes but not when I remember to brush my hair
(which doesn't really like it, humidity's a bitch but the curl's worth keeping)
Caught between self expression and repression
Because sometimes the things that happened in childhood (other lives) really do affect you.
I don't bleed black but I do bleed slow,
And sometimes that's the best way to do it, cautious and careful and
sometimes it's just best to grab the dance floor and make it yours
because what else is a dance floor there for?
People say I can write and I say I do write, though well I'm
not so sure about, because how can you know if your own stuff is good?
I do it for myself at any rate because I may go nuts if the stories
stay inside, though the fanmail is really nice too.
I write novels novellas nanowrimo fanfiction fanthropology music reviews
episode reviews editorials opinion and advice columns short stories
comic scripts screenplays stageplays and bad emo poetry that doesn't see the sun
and sometimes in the margins of my textbooks when I'm bored (even when I'm the teacher).
I hate comma splices, conjunction errors
and those whiney little morons on ff.n who can't use spellcheck
and the mods who can't make up their minds about rules
and Mary Sues (unless it's a Meta Sue, then point the way!)
I want to change the world one essay at a time,
the kind of articles that used to drive me pleasently mad
every friday morning in the theory seminar, and one day that shit-eating
tweed-wearing professor grin is going to be mine.
I'd like to be one of those Gaiman-esque poets with the black fountain pens
but I really type much faster, the product of too many RA assignments
and besides, I can't rhyme worth crap and the tattoo on the back of my neck
(in my imagination) is the kanji for Storyteller anyway.
Who am I now that I'm not who I was?
Does it at all matter? Whose to tell me it does?
Cosplayers aren't loosers, we're professional theatre folks
with not enough gigs and too much time on our hands
(even though we have none) and what's wrong with wanting
the photo spotlight for a day, as long as you're not a jerk.
Advice from the ether is a little more common than folks think,
though sometimes it's hard to weed from the sarcasm,
but even that's fun, because life in just one shell
can't possibly be all there is (my Tarot cards say 'no').
One day I'll learn to stop falling for the gay boys
To smile and flirt the way I should, (they want me to)
and possibly to stop finding PhDs so goddamn sexy
(but I secretly hope not), because stupid people bug me all to hell.
And people who can dance or sing are just as hawt.
As long as you do it with heart, it doesn't matter what you look
or sound like, or what sort of plumbing you've got,
cause sexy is sexy no matter what you've got 'down there'.
I've lived in more countries than I have fingers on one hand
and been in hospitals in each though I'm not sure that's a compliment
and sometimes I muck up my French and Japanese, sou donc,
but I can swear at you in more languages than I have toes and really, how cool is that?
I want people to take me seriously and not cause I have a rack,
but I want people to love me for my talent and part of acting is a body
(unless you're Scott McNeil or Kirby Morrow and goddamn if they're not hot as hell too)
and bloody hard to get into if you can't get into a size zero.
Spontanious projectile plot vomiting
is really not as disgusting as it sounds (although sometimes it really, really is)
and is a great way to waste an evening, as long as you have friends and wine
and perhaps a notebook on hand in case it turns out well.
And maybe sometime in the future I will be
a best selling novelist
a renown voice actor
a loved television star
a respected professor
a signifigant other
a bitch (in the good way)
a snappy dresser
a person confident in her body
a person confident in her wit
a person confident in herself
a person people *squee* for at a con
But for now I'm happy being an emo punky leather wearing coffee swilling wine snob geeky fanfic writing cosplaying intellectual aca!fan horror loving novel consuming love-retarted slightly not-size-zero adorkable ME.
(And exercise and diets are for loosers, anyway.)
"Fanfic is literary karaoke. Why resist that anonymous urge to sing along?"
-- Cheryl Truman and Heather Chapman