And Many More

365 days ago, as Wipeout chirped from the television in the empty living room across the hall, I sat cross-legged in my room and grinned at my computer.

I picked up my phone to text my mom and let her know that a staggering twenty people had clicked their way onto my blog.

As an afterthought, I let her know that, by the way, I started a blog.

Happy birthday, Freak of Fandom.

She’s grown so much since that February 6th with one post, one page, one view, and a low-quality header portraying a smiling weeping angel.

Exhibit A

(I have no idea why I thought that image would invite people in)

How time flies. Still, I shouldn’t get too carried away in the celebration just yet – it’s important to make sure that my blog is healthy and progressing normally. For this purpose, I turn to the internet’s incorporeal pediatricians –

What are some of the developmental milestones my child should reach by twelve months of age?

“From eight to twelve months of age, your [blog] will become increasingly mobile, a development that will thrill and challenge both of you. Being able to move from place to place will give your [blog] a delicious sense of power and control—her first real taste of [virtual] independence.” ~ healthychildren.org

I am really not sure I trust my young blog with anything so enticing and dangerous-sounding as a “delicious” sense of power – but I suppose she did get a bit of a taste, maybe this past December with the Time of the Doctor trailer breakdown that got over 1200 hits the day it was published (1000 more than I’d ever gotten before).

More developments to expect in a healthy child blog:

Language Milestones

• Pays increasing attention to speech
• Responds to “no”
• Babbles with inflection
• Tries to imitate words
• Repeats sounds or gestures for attention

She seems to be on track. I like to think she’s doing rather well in the first milestone, but maybe not spectacular in the second; however, she does the next three items almost exclusively (never really stops), so it sort of averages out.

Growing up so fast.

This outlet has been here to document a truckload of my reality-based events – my DC trip, the chronicles of my first bow hunt and first real job, and that time I totally dissed a rainbow for wifi (still kind of annoyed with myself about that).

And of course, the force of the fiction has been strong with this one as well – Freak of Fandom has carried me through the end of Lizzie Bennet Diaries and the start of Emma Approved, the break-up and make-up between me and Once Upon a Time, the anticipation and aftermath of Sherlock season three, and far, far too many instances of  me quoting River Song’s “spoilers” and thinking I was still being original and cute.

But the coolest thing about this is the people I have gotten to connect with.

You guys.

You are beyond fabulous. Some of you I knew before the blog, some of you I met in the midst of the blog, and some of you through it – but you guys are all awesome, and your encouraging words never ever go unappreciated.

I am so honored that any of you would choose to hold my hand through this process.

God bless you lovelies, and thank you all so very, very much!

(By the way, mom, I know it was you who clicked on my blog 1200 times in a row last December. Love you.)

All that’s left now is to gear up for another year, and, as ever, be of good cheer, dear friends.

(Music helps)

Happy birthdays and unbirthdays to everyone!

Knockaround Update

I have a lot of unrelated things to say today that I can’t organize into a normal posty-post.

So let’s get this show on the road!

        Uno: I have been nominated for the Versatile Blogger award by Gemma (author of Remain Insane) and nominated for the Sunshine award by Kayla (author of The Thousand Lives)!

Thank you, my dears! And the rest of you – check those girls out. They are winners and their blogs are fabulous.

Now to re-assign the awards! I’m not sure how many awards I can give to one blogger at a time, so I’ll just give one to each for now.

I pass on the Versatile Blogger award to the Voyager for her blog The Ultimate Voyage. This clever young lady has run an exceedingly magnificent blog for over a year now, and you really ought to treat yourself to her nerdy, thoughtful, theological goodness. My favorite of her posts is Cumulus Boni Et Mali.

Also, I would like to throw a VB award to Kayla of The Thousand Lives! If you have a fully functioning memory span, you’ll remember her from four paragraphs ago. She mainly writes about writing (very well, too), and my favorite post of hers is Write to Learn. 

I present the Sunshine award to Kirelion for her blog For the Win. She is a fairly new blogger, but her posts are still full of incessant loveliness and fangirling, especially my favorite of hers, The Great McGregor. I know this girl in the real world, and I can say confidently that you would love her.

Also a Sunshine award to Rika, the Awkward Geeky Girl. That blog name tells you everything you need to know! My favorite post of hers is The Shy Girl at a Party.

And now, according to the rules of accepting these awards, I have to answer the following questions about myself.

Favorite color: TARDIS blue. Otherwise known to normal people as royal blue.

Favorite animal: Turtle.

Favorite number: 30367.

Favorite non-alcoholic drink: Guava juice. I only ever drank it in Hawaii, but the day I forget the taste of that heavenly elixir is the day people stop using the phrase “when pigs fly.”

Favorite alcoholic drink: I’ll let you know when I find out.

Facebook or Twitter: Facebook has endowed me with the unwanted and despised knowledge that most people don’t know the finer points of grammar or spelling, but Twitter is a such a communicational downgrade (140 characters? For reals?) that I would have to say Facebook.

My passions: Stories and storytelling. You should not be surprised by this.

Giving or receiving gifts: Bit of a toss-up (who doesn’t like receiving gifts?), but if I must pick one, it would probably be giving. I’m a fan of bribing people for affection.

Favorite city: Bend, Oregon. Because, to quote Allie Brosh, the author of Hyperbole and a Half,

” … it is quite possibly the best place on earth and just breathing the air here is like huffing joy and celebration.”

Favorite TV shows: Come on guys, you know this. Doctor Who, Sherlock, Psych, White Collar, Phineas and Ferb (don’t judge), and Gravity Falls (please don’t judge).

Let’s move along now.

       Two: Remember when it was announced that Matt Smith had signed on to do season eight of Doctor Who? Well, due to the fact that we live in a fallen, broken world, this is no longer applicable. My Doctor is regenerating this Christmas.

No, no, no, just kidding. My actual reaction is

…

And I need a hug.

       Trois: I recently returned from a three-day trip to my state capitol with six high-school strangers who were, though wonderful people, not geeky at all. It was hard. I saw angel figurines and I blinked. I saw cracks in the wall and I didn’t point out our likely demise. I discussed investigation techniques and didn’t quote Sherlock. I hiked through a forest and didn’t reference Lost. My driver had a stetson and I whispered, “Stetsons are cool.”

No one heard me.

       And forty-three: Two kids were picked from that predominantly non-nerdy group to go to Washington DC, and I was blessed to be one of them! Something good came out of my pain after all. Lord willing, at the end of this month, I, along with the other winner, will be in the nation’s capitol, giving speeches in front of representatives, touring museums, debating with strangers, and continuing to choke back my well-placed fandom references.

Should be interesting.

That’s all for now, folks. We’ll be back to our regularly scheduled program soon.

Don’t forget to be awesome!

Hug Appreciation Post

It’s time you knew something about me: I like hugs.

All kinds of hugs.

Reunion hugs.

Group hugs.

Thank-goodness-you’re-here, I-nearly-died hugs.

Turns-out-you’re-actually-a-fabulous-human-being-despite-my-earlier- misgivings hugs.

(Yup. Those are totally a thing. Hugs are very eloquent if you let them be.)

Hugs are a brilliant invention.

Even the awkward ones.

They don’t even have to be between humans.

In fact, they hardly have to be proper hugs at all.

Please, consider this entire post my hug to you.

Everybody needs a hug sometimes; it’s a basic human right. So once you’re through with the world wide interweb today, go out and give a hug to someone, whether it be an attack hug, an awkward hug, or a plain and simple just-because hug.

You won’t regret it.

Well, I suppose there is a possibility that you will. Just don’t go hugging strangers.

**This blog does not endorse harassing strangers for cuddles.** 

But hey! If and when you and I meet, just remember.

Adventures in Anxiety

Responsibility. Money. The future. Relationships.

If you’re anything like me, you’re considering opening another tab to look at cute pictures of sweater-wearing kittens now, because those words just made you nervous. And if you weren’t considering the kittens then, you are now. Who could blame you, though?

Anyway, you’re in good company.

Anxiety. It’s been around so long, most of us greet him like an old friend (albeit one of those friends that makes you screen your calls and want to hide in a closet when he’s around). I usually deal with my anxiety with what I have dubbed the “Calvin and Hobbes” method.

It involves pretending I don’t have to deal with anything, and retreating into my own mind.

This isn’t a very efficient method, but hey, it…

Hm.

I actually have zero validation for that method. But I think you get the picture. Anxiety makes cowards and madmen of all its unlucky victims. 

Anxiety always starts for me because I’m thinking too hard – but never about the right things. And it doesn’t help that it always seems to happen at bedtime, when my mind is already going haywire. The voices in my head (maybe I should not admit to having those) start coming up with all sorts of great ideas at night.

“Hey! You know what would be fun to think about? What other people think about you!”

“No.”

“Remember that one stupid thing you did two and half years ago?”

“Shut up.”

“Well, I remember. And so does everyone else.”

“I don’t want to think about it, Brain!”

“I bet everyone else is. Hey, I have an idea! Let’s think about every stupid thing you’ve ever done ever!”

“BRAIN WAT R U DOING STAHP”

“Are you thinking in memes? That’s pretty sad.”

“I know. Sorry.”

I just admitted that I sometimes think in internet memes. My mind will never let me live this one down. Of course, it’s been wreaking havoc on me for quite a while. Why would it stop now?

Years ago, my brain decided fourteen-year-old girls were the scariest beings imaginable. I’m not sure why the age of fourteen stood out to me in particular, but it did. I remember going to youth group, seeing the clique of fourteen-year-olds giggling in a corner and hoping beyond hope that they didn’t notice I was existing so close to them. This fear lasted until I was well into fourteen years old myself, and finally realized that maybe – just maybe – this was one of those irrational fears, like fear of welcome mats, doorknobs, or realtors.

Not long after this I became aware of my phone anxiety. This one made about as much sense as dodging female junior highers did. Talking on the phone made me twitchy, unhappy, and altogether the most awkward person you could ever talk to on the telephone.

I’m better now, I promise. Not great, but better. However, I still feel that if I can’t look someone in the face when we’re talking, I feel like I’m missing out on most of the conversation.

Mostly, though, I become anxious because it’s just my nature.

I’m selfish. I want everything to be comfortable and low-stress and low-responsibility and I will stress out and run away if my environment does not promise those things. However, what I’ve found out is that the world into which I must soon launch myself does not promise that. And I’m gonna have a hard time running away from the entire world. At least unless my fantasy back-up plan kicks in and I can just run away with the

“The Doctor isn’t real, you know.”

“SHUT UP BRAIN, YOU’VE GONE TOO FAR.”

I probably shouldn’t have finished that sentence anyway. I’ll just leave it there.

All this to say,

“Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?” Luke 12:25

In all my years of worrying as hard as I can, I have never worried away a problem. You can take my word for it. Because, chances are, running away from the world and its responsibilities may not actually get you anywhere worth going.

Unless, of course, you have a really fabulous back-up plan.

Under the Influence

It’s really interesting, isn’t it, the way you become what you like?

I didn’t wear my peacoat nearly as much before I started watching Sherlock, and I certainly never left my collar up. Ever since White Collar, whenever I put on a hat, I try to spin it like Neal Caffrey and end up looking like I never quite mastered fine motor skills. My hair has been in milkmaid braids more times than I’d care to admit since I began to watch the Lizzie Bennet Diaries, and my nails are long and painted red right now. Not because they match my outfit, mind you. Because this.

It’s worth mentioning at this point that if you understood every reference I just made, I owe you a firm handshake and a root beer float.

There are some entertainment-induced tendencies I don’t pick up that I wish I would (mad archery skills, River Song’s hair, etc. ) and tendencies I do pick up that I wish I wouldn’t (spontaneous British accent at inappropriate times, and I recently used “totes,” in a conversation).

Pre-Nerd me would probably think I was some sort of lunatic if she could see me now. Though, to be perfectly honest, it would not (did not)  take long to convert her to the nerd side.

But how far is this going to go? I don’t want to wake up in a year and find that nothing I do or say or believe is in any way my own. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.

The media tries really hard to remake people and tell them what to think. From beauty, to love, to infinity and beyond. I don’t even like people close to me to make big decisions for me. Why would I ever want the media to make them for me? I have to remind myself that although I may find that my emotions are often at the mercies of Joss Whedon, neither he nor his characters may touch me, my soul. That belongs to Someone Else, and I am its caretaker. I will not be, I am not one of the media’s puppets, and no matter how much it seems otherwise, I am not controlled by Steven Moffat. … I say this mainly because I assume that if I were, I’d most likely be dead by now (Pass up an opportunity to write something passive-aggressive about everyone’s favorite/most hated human being? Not this girl!).

Thanks for letting me rant. Every now and then, I get the urge to assert my free will. Thankfully, even after being the girl who had to replay the last few seconds of Lizzie Bennet Diaries #97 several times just to listen to three [beautiful] words over and over, I like to imagine that I have some aspects of my life at least kind of in control. That’s all anyone in this messed-up world can ask, right?

Perfectly sane, logical young woman – out.

And now that she’s gone, I really need to get something off my chest. Is it just me, or should no show ever be allowed to have as much backstory as Once Upon a Time has? Or as many new characters per episode? That show is turning me into a stark raving madwoman, please send help.

Okay, that’s really all now.

Have a spectacular day, friends!

Dear Internet (AKA: The Conversation Everyone Has with the World Wide Web at Some Point)

Hello Internet.

I think it’s time we talked.

Please don’t get nervous, I know everyone dreads “the talk.” But I really need to know.

Internet, where is this relationship going?

I mean, hardly a day has gone by in the past year when we haven’t seen each other. It’s not like we don’t talk, but we never really communicate. Every time I think we’re making some progress, you always seem to change the subject. Remember yesterday? I was just trying to talk to you about organization and you were all, “Hey, have you heard about ‘Busty Girl Problems’? They’re freaking hilarious.”

And they were, man. They were.  But that isn’t the issue.

I’ve been trying to focus on school lately, you know that. So why is it you call me late at night just to hang out? It’s sweet, I understand that! Any woman would want someone so devoted. But to be perfectly honest, if we have to hang out in Google Chrome one more late night when I’m trying to do my homework, I’m going to puke.

And your friends! I don’t mean to be rude, but Facebook is ruining my life! Have you ever really spoken to that guy? He won’t. Stop. Gossiping. It’s gotten to the point where everyone he talks about I end up hating. I can’t tell if he just makes them look bad or if they really do suck as much as he makes them seem!

Youtube isn’t so bad, but once you start talking to him, you just can’t stop. He’s all, “Hey, if you like talking about Dr. Horrible, why not talk about Doctor Who or Sherlock or Lizzie Bennet?” And I’m like, “We’re already talking about Dr. Horrible though,” And he says, “It’s okay, I’ll just add it to our list of things to talk about later,” and I say, “You even have one of those? But I have homework!” and he says, “It’s okay, when I stop for breath you can pretend to read.”

I’m not going to complain about Tumblr. We’ve actually been pretty tight since I found out we like a lot of the same stuff. Even if I am pretty sure the lights are not all on upstairs. And I think she may be a stalker. She has a lot of pictures she shouldn’t have.

Pinterest. Don’t get me started. That woman is one crazy maniac. She thinks she knows everything about everything, but she’s always misquoting people and pretending to be something she’s not.

You sure can pick ‘em, Internet.

Maybe we aren’t as good together as I thought we were. I thought we were going to work as a team and achieve things we couldn’t do alone. But you don’t need me, do you? And you’re really not helping me as much as I feel I deserve in this relationship.

Don’t give me that look.

Stop. You know that pictures of kittens don’t work on me anymore. I’ve moved on.

Thank you for accepting that. That’s very mature. See? We’re two adults.

Well, one.

Half of one. Whatever.

What’s that? You have some inspirational quotes for me to help me on my journey?

Thanks.

…

Maybe we do deserve another try.

Stuff I Have a Problem With

Stuff is giving me problems, and you know what? Stuff can’t be allowed to keep going around and making people miserable! It’s time to stand up to stuff and let stuff know that this isn’t okay.

This is the stuff that drives me mad.

1. The Pit of Ignorance. Sometimes known as “the comments section on youtube.” Now first, I would like to say that some people post witty and well-worded comments on youtube, and good for them! But I think we’re all more acquainted with those comments that make you consider resigning humanity to become a hedgehog. For instance, while browsing comments on a couple of videos, I found these displays of intellectual prowess:

• “i found it a bit weired”
• “i the vid with the dribbling and oop to himself better.”
• “comment ok happy”
• “IronMan is a boring Superhero”

Can you believe that fourth one? It’s disgusting the people that are allowed on the internet.

Now, I understand that good spelling and grammar do not come easily to everyone who attempts them (or doesn’t attempt them), but for a few years now, we’ve had this magical gadget called spell-check. And it is not only awesome, it is sadly under-utilized.

2. The Impromptu Two-Person Harlem Shake. In case you have been living under a rock for the past couple of weeks (and/or not been on the internet), the Harlem Shake is a two-shot, thirty-second video of people dancing like sick giraffes. It’s awesome. But the afore-mentioned “impromptu two-person harlem shake” is not nearly as magical.

Picture this. You are walking down the middle of a hallway when you notice someone walking towards you. To avoid a head-on collision, you veer left. Motivated by the same intentions, they veer right and accidentally block you. Muttering apologies, you go right to let them pass. Simultaneously, they decide to go left. You begin to twitch in sync with your new dance partner. Your temper rises. The situation, no, your LIFE is no longer within your control.

You’re done for. You’ve been trapped in the ghastly loop of  the two-person Harlem Shake.

To be avoided at all costs.

3. The Rules of Acceptable Social Conduct. I suppose in some ways, this is actually a good institution, but some things about it are just silly. Have you  noticed how the rules change as you and people around you grow older? These tiresome rules have prevented me several times from putting people (people I don’t babysit) in time-outs, it’s not always okay to draw with chalk in public places, and apparently, it isn’t normal to fix problems with bubbles anymore after you’ve passed year thirteen.

Problems that can be fixed with bubbles when you’re 3-11 years old:

• Boredom
• Pain
• Bullies
• World hunger

Problems that can be fixed with bubbles when you’re 12+ years old:

• Kids 

4. Patience. Okay, so patience is a good thing. It’s a virtue! It’s a fruit of the spirit! But if you tell that to any Sherlockian, Whovian, or Seahorse (and no, I’m not referring to marine animals), they will slap you so hard that you will fall back in time to before it was cool to like things before they were cool. Waiting, however wonderful it may be for your character, is hard. 

5. Homework. Otherwise known as “That thing I’m avoiding right now.”

… I should go.

If this stuff makes you cringe too, then know you’re not alone.

Stuff makes us all equally miserable.

 

 

Fangirl Analysis

A few months ago, the little brother of a friend asked me what “fangirling” was.

Oh dear. So much to explain.

At the time, I was unprepared to properly enlighten him, and I rambled off a half-baked explanation that it involved squealing and bouncing, but today, I’ve come to redeem myself. Ladies and gentlemen, this is my analysis of a fangirl.

“Fangirl” is either a noun (e.g., “That girl crying in the corner must be a fangirl.”) or a verb (e.g., “I’m sorry, Emory can’t come to the phone right now, she’s fangirling about Colin Morgan.”) As a noun, it is a young woman who is unabashedly enthuasiastic about fictional characters and/or their respective actors (especially ones from the United Kingdom), and as a verb, it means to disregard socially acceptable behavior and scream like a banshee, breathe faster/stop breathing, write fanfiction, post on tumblr, sigh loudly, giggle uncontrollably, lose the function to think, and/or jump up and down.

Fangirl lingo includes the following:

• Ship – to endorse a romantic relationship between two people, usually fictional characters. “I ship Fitz and Gigi so hard!”
• OTP – stands for “One True Pairing” and is a term used for your favorite ship. “Amy and Rory are my OTP!”
• Can – seems like a familiar word, but no. It is a word that illustrates how your too-severe fangirling has shut down your brain. “I can’t… I can’t. I can’t even. I have lost the ability to can.”
• Fanfic – abbreviation for “fanfiction.” A story about fictional characters written by one of its fans.  “Have you read that Sherlock  fanfic, Alone on the Water? I have lost the ability to can.”
• Squee – a high-pitched scream delivered by a fangirl, and usually provoked by something fictional. “SQUEEEEEEE”

Below is my collage of all you need to understand fangirls and how their minds work. I got everything from Pinterest or youtube comments, and none of it is my own creation (though, admittedly, it looks like it could be). Click to enlarge!

If you got through the entire thing (congratulations!), one thing will stand out: the screaming.

Yes, we do that on occasion. Don’t judge.

When I went to the midnight premiere of The Hobbit, one of the first previews was for Star Trek Into Darkness.  Four other girls and I screamed at the top of  our lungs. And yes, while I feel sorry for the other people in the theater, I would do it all over again if I had the chance. The only time I’ve fangirled harder in a movie theater was at the end of Captain America (midnight premiere again – who sleeps anyway?). The first teaser for The Avengers. My sister and I were holding onto each other so tightly and hitting each other so hard, I’m surprised we didn’t both come out with bruises. THAT is fangirling.

Any questions?

Anyhow, if we’re still holding onto the definitions, “fanboy” means basically the same thing except that it is male and “fanboying” doesn’t sound nearly as catchy as its female counterpart.

If there was any confusion on the matter, I certainly hope this helped. Thus ends my analysis!

Hug a fangirl today.

Conscious

I’m a nerd.

But more specifically, I am a fangirl.

This means I spend a lot of my time doing this.

I’m not ashamed about the things I like; on the contrary, everyone who claims to know me knows full well that I truly love what I love. I have a TARDIS t-shirt and a Sherlock necklace that I wear with pride, Totoro pins on my purse, copious amounts of books and comic books on my bookshelves, crushes on men that don’t exist (Darcy, WHY?), and I quote my favorite books and TV shows on a daily basis.

I’m an open book.

But I’ve come to the realization that my particular brand of enthusiasm is not always socially acceptable. People will look at you strangely if you scribble “Bad Wolf” on every available writing surface, and if you start squealing in a movie theater when a Star Trek Into Darkness trailer comes on, people will most likely want to rip out your vocal cords.

So in an effort to avoid public mauling, I’ve tried to tone it down. There are people around whom I don’t mention my fandoms, pretend not to be enthusiastic about my existence, and don’t quote Lizzie Bennet Diaries. But I can’t say I enjoy it too much. When they’re gone, I find myself bursting with unused fangirl energy and/or fervor, and just sort of shut down.

Because I’m human, and because I don’t want people to judge me, I try to be a bit more normal. I mean, for the record, I suck at it, but I still try.

But you know what I’m finding out? In the words of the great philosopher John Green,

“… nerds like us are allowed to be unironically enthusiastic about stuff… Nerds are allowed to love stuff, like jump-up-and-down-in-the-chair-can’t-control-yourself love it. Hank, when people call people nerds, mostly what they’re saying is ‘you like stuff.’ Which is just not a good insult at all. Like, ‘you are too enthusiastic about the miracle of human consciousness’.”

I’m excited that I’m conscious enough to spew nonsense.

Take that, normalcy.