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So, me and my roommate Rikki had a conversation awhile back about our radical differences in our television show tastes. About the only thing we truly have in common is "Leverage", though she sucked me into "Big Brother", and I sucked her into "How I Met Your Mother." That's about it. Other than that, I mainly watch crime dramas or scifi dramadys, and she pretty much watches pure dramas/suspense/crazy ass shit that never tells you the answer till the end type of TV shows, or reality shows that make me want to take my head off most days.

But anyway, that made me think about my television choices and what it is that draws them all together, and I'm pretty sure it's the fact that there's not an obnoxious amount of drama. I like drama, don't get me wrong. if you read my fics, it's actually funny because most of my stuff is pure drama and angst, but my TV? I need a balanced amount. Which is why, by the way, I despise "The L Word". Yes, I'm a lesbian and love watching other lesbians make out and be sexy and shit, but that show had so much unnecessary drama it made my head wanna explode.

So. My Top TV show obsessions, and you can see the common denominator pretty clearly:


BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER (AND ANGEL, BUT YEAH)

Every episode, Buffy (or Angel, respectably) is always kicking some demon's ass or saving the world from hell. But then there's the side drama which basically consists of (in my mind) OMG WHEN ARE BUFFY AND FAITH GOING HAVE SEX?, SPIKE IS MADE OF SO MUCH WIN BUT SWITCHES FROM EVIL/NOT EVIL LIKE A CONFUZZLED PUPPY, RILEY NEEDS TO DIE IN A FIRE, TARA SHOULD HAVE NEVER GOT SHOT, and NO ONE WANTS TO SEE GILES MAKE OUT WITH PEOPLE. NO ONE. EW. Thus, providing a nice balance episode to episode with enough character drama and yet enough of another plot so it doesn't become obnoxiously overwhelming. (and if you want my opinion on Angel, omg the whole Conner storyline needs to be burned and never spoke of again and Season 5 was totally the best season ever IMO)


LEVERAGE

Leverage is actually interesting for me because for the life of me I couldn't give half a crap about the cons. I just don't. I don't even pay attention to them most times (which was a total bitch when I actually had to review the eps for If Magazine). I love the characters and how they're all dysfunctional misfits and I love watching them grow. Season 3 is giving me headache and I'm blacklisting most of it, but I have hope for season 4. And for the love of god, stop making Parker into a fucking Barbie. She was awesome in the first season especially because she wasn't obnoxiously beautiful and, you know, actually RELATED to the rest of us because of that. I mean, come on, we all know Beth is, but Parker looked like a regular person back then (with, granted, an awful fashion sense, but that made her endearing). Can we have that back please? No? Well fuck you then. But anyway! Even though I don't pay attention to who's getting their ass kicked by the Leverage team half the time, I think the balance between characters/cons makes for interesting television. Because as much as I would love entirely character-centric episodes, if there were too many I'd get bored. Fast.


RIZZOLI & ISLES

Okay, well besides this being a cop drama and the obvious answer that every episode has a case, THIS SHOW IS THE GAYEST FUCKING SHOW EVER. & I WANT ITS FIRST BORN. It's like if Xena and SVU had a baby and it spawned this show. No, I'm serious. Anyway, Jane and Maura totally have this unspoken crazy gay love for each other, so what makes this show good are all the moments between them. And as we all know, good things have to come in moderation or it gets obnoxious and overwhelming. If the show was entirely made up of their unrequited lesbian love for each other, it'd probably annoy the shit out of me and I'd want to stab myself in the eye. But no, the cases balance all that out, which makes me wait on bated breath for each new moment that's so gay it's beginning to not even be subtext anymore. Like, really. Now all we have to hope for is that Angie Harmon won't stop the fun train if it's presented to her because apparently because she's a Republican, she must be an asshole to the gays (and to be fair, I'll give that 80% of the time that tends to be true, but I won't judge her until I fully know where she stands). Yay for Sasha though. Just ONE BIG YAY FOR SASHA. I don't need reasons. She's just awesome.


DOCTOR WHO

THIS SHOW. THIS. This is amazing. Every episode they're saving some planet or some other such intergalactic adventure, but you still get sucked into the character drama. LIKE OMG WHO IS RIVER SONG?! AHH. But, okay, I shouldn't get into my crush on River, that'll take awhile. Now, I DO have to say I get sick of the "everyone falls in love with the Doctor" bullshit they've been pulling for a gazillion and a half years, which is probably why I adored Donna like nobodies business. But yes. To reiterate a million times; crazy intergalactic battles vs character drama. Nice balance. AND SOMEONE, PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, MAKE THE DALEKS GO BACK TO THEIR ORIGINAL COLORS. CRYAOLA/POWER RANGERS DON'T INVOKE FEAR. IT MAKES ME GIGGLE. ALOT.


BONES

I admit, I am a Booth/Bones shipper. I usually femslash all to hell and back (and probably still would if the whole Angela/Roxie business wasn't an awful promotional stunt that was poorly managed and made me want to gag). But Booth and Bones? THEY BELONG TOGETHER. And I, like everyone else in the fucking world, bang my head against my desk as they stretch it out and prolong it to the point of absolute INSANITY. But what makes it bearable? Every episode has a case. I also love all the other characters and interns and their side stories. It's good damn TV, really. BALANCE, people. It's about BALANCE. I'm going to keep stressing that lol.


THE CLOSER

Ah, another cop drama. And I'll admit, I only put a picture up of Brenda/Raydor because I want them to have lots of angry hateful sex. Well, okay, I did until they started to kind of get along (which isn't much, but for them it's a milestone) over the whole Chief of Police business. Which we all knew Brenda wasn't gonna get btw, so why even bother? But anyway! This show, like all cop shows, have a case every episode. This is a bit different though because it's pretty much "The Brenda Show" otherwise. Which I don't mind, Brenda is hot and hilarious and I fucking adore her. Also, I think this is the only show that's really be successful with the main character being happily married, and that's EPIC. Fritz is adorable, he is. But Brenda still needs to have angry!sex with Raydor. Now. Anyway! Another nice balance. YAY FOR BALANCE. (oh, and btw, random factoid: this is the first show I've watched religiously since it's aired. I was 18. Aw. I mean, now I have other shows I've done that for, but this was the first. Let's hug it *coddles*)

Now, I'm sure you all are like "wtf, why hasn't she mentioned Xena yet?" Well...


XENA: WARRIOR PRINCESS

Xena's tricky. Xena's hard to define, period. You can't just say she goes around redeeming herself every episode, because that's not true. She's fucked up and there's even episodes that in essence are completely pointless in regards to that aspect. She kicks someone's ass every episode, which is nice. Hm. That. Yeah, we'll go with that. The ass kicking lol. Anyway, outside of all the ass kicking and saving Gabrielle until she was competent enough to save herself, THERE WAS SO MUCH MASSIVE GAY LOVE. And Xena was different than Rizzoli & Isles (and ultimately, I'll still say better) because hey, back then, open gay characters were not very common on TV. Especially prime time. So they hinted all the could at it without actually saying it. There was actually talk about a movie in the works YEARS ago about them finally coming out as lovers, but god knows if that'll ever get filmed. Oh, and Lucy and Renee were totally awesome about the gay stuff and that's a yay. UGGHHH I MISS THIS SHOW SO HARD. Right, anyway, what's my point? Oh yeah, frankly Xena's too epic to ever be truly define, and other shows weep at it's feet from the sheer awesome. That is all. Oh yeah, and a bunch of crap about balance. (which actually they did with drama/action/comedy episodes being switched around all the time, now that I think about it)

Right, so? My point here is the world needs balance, as does TV shows. If you shove DRAMADRAMADRAMA or ANGSTANGSTANGST down my throat I'm likely to gag. Strangely enough I can deal with COMDEDYCOMEDYCOMEDY, but that's another story.

But anyway, this entry cured me of my boredom, and now I'm getting really tired. So. I guess I'm off.

BALANCE, PEOPLE.

End of lesson.

Oh, and those are all the shows I have to watch when they air or I'll die. FTR. Just in case anyone was wondering, which I'm sure you weren't. At all.

Oh yeah, and Skins is the exception to that rule. That drama sucks me in and spits me back out again & I have to watch every week. But then again, it's a British show, which therefore makes it an allowable exception to the rule. Story; end of.



Yeah, the girls are the only one's worth mentioning right now because I'm gayer than a marshmallow spitting rainbows. However, let me say that the third generation (not pictured up there, that's second) is so much fulgier than first and second. Wtf. They better fix them up real good on camera, cause the only official picture I saw they all looked like asshole compared to the other two.

Labels: angel, bones, buffy, doctor who the closer, leverage, rizzoli and isles, xena

I know I don't write in here very often. Mostly because nothing significant has been going on in my life. I could have wrote about how I got drugged that one night, but that wouldn't have been entertaining to ya'll cause well, I can't remember that whole night. No memory equals no blog.

But yesterday, after four hours of sleep I got up at eight thirty to leave my house at nine thirty to catch the bus to go to the hospital. Why? Well, a brilliant idea of my sister's, that's why.

We had a talk a couple days ago how "Grady" (memorial hospital) can be a huge resource for those who have mental disorders. When she tried to commit suicide they set her up with an individual therapist for herself and her daughter, as well as family therapy. She had also seen people get help with jobs and housing because hell, for all intensive purposes I do consider myself homeless. If it's not mine, I don't have it, according to my brain.

So I go, hoping to get therapy, maybe some new meds, and help with getting myself back on my feet.

I take Marta - public transportation - a bus to Innman Park station, a train from Innman to Georgia State Station. Walk three blocks to the hospital. Sit outside for a bit, not beliving I'm actually going to do this because it makes me feel sixteen again, suck down a couple cigarettes, and in I go, through a door that doesn't have any metal detectors (keep that in mind, will be relevant later).

Fill out your form. Name, age, address, do you have insurance... all the bullshit little fields everyone fills out. And then the last little line that says "What brings you to Grady today?".

I scrawl, "I'm going to kill myself if no one stops me." Feel like a jackass for even writing that, and stick it in the little bin where everyone sticks their stupid little forms. Waiting ensues.

I have half a mind a half an hour later to get up and scream if I have to actually slit my throat to get any attention around here because number one, it would fall into my plan of being "suicidal" and number two, I might actually get seen before all these other people. Unfortunately, my pride and intense urges to not screw myself over more than I absolutely need to kick in. I sit still and be quiet.

Some guy tries to hit on me. I glare at him. I'm in the emergency room, are you fucking kidding me? Seriously?

I go to the bathroom and stuff some cigarettes and matches in my bra. Why? Because you can't smoke in there, so says my sister. And fuck NO is that about to happen.

My name gets called, the lady makes me fill out more paperwork until she actually looks at my reason. Her eyes go wide.

"Are you serious?"

No, I'm here for shits and giggles, lady. "YES."

She calls some other nurse, all emergency-like which I find even surprising in an emergency room, and puts me on a stretcher. By this time I actually have to act crazy. Which I've found my "crazy" is a mix between Callisto from Xena and Parker from Leverage. I mimic Callisto's actions, her looks, her eery fascination with moving her fingers, yet I have this airy nonchalance about everything like Parker can have sometimes. People are successfully creeped out, score one.

When you act crazy, which I've been a pro at since the age of fourteen - cause gotta play it up to get the better meds, right? - you have to constantly be aware of how people look at you. You have to gauge their reactions to see if you should play it up just a little bit more or take it down a notch. I don't want to be in a straight jacket after all. Those things are never fun and they have the same uncanny ability as being in handcuffs has - no matter what, when your hands are unusable you ALWAYS have to itch something somewhere where you can't reach. And no, that didn't mean to sound dirty, I meant like your face or your leg or some other mundane body part you can't seem to get your hands at.

That sounded dirty too.

Anyway, I get put into a temporary observation room in the emergency room. Great, because I love to get "observed". Sigh. The bad thing about acting crazy is it gets incredibly tiring and difficult to keep up with after three or more hours. You start slipping, start acting a bit more normal. You go in and out like waves of sanity that just may happen to pass through your brain.

I'm not allowed to get off my cot. I have to get put into one of those hospital dressing gowns. I tell the lady I have no underwear on - because I never fucking do - and there's no way I could move and show my business to everyone else around here. I don't get too far with that one, only get a second robe to cover most of my areas. Great, so far, not so good. I'm usually better at manipulating people than this.

There's this woman outside with a beard, a serious BEARD, moaning in pain. I have the thought cross my mind to be rude, cause aren't all crazy people? But I can't, I'm too human for that sort of pointless stuff.

I'm hungry, so I ask the nurse for food.

"I don't think you'll get food."

I cock an eyebrow at her and say with that creepy little smile that's so Callisto-esque. "That's alright, if you want to starve me I defenitly have no problem with that. That's one way to go."

Needless to say, my hungry ass got me some food. Yeah, don't start with my food, woman. It's starting to look up a bit.

Keep in mind, they have yet to search my purse or anything of that sort. I didn't think I should be worried about that, but then again I forgot I had something very bad in there. They just lock it up, away from where I can get it. I want my phone back, it has music.

I'm bored. For four hours I'm just bored.

I get talked to by two nurses, and then the doctor. By the time the doctor comes around I'm thoroughly annoyed at having to repeat myself and I rock back and forth, glare in place, nails scratching my skin while I tell him, "Can't you just look at your fucking charts? I'm sick of being asked these stupid fucking questions over and over."

I'm never that rude to people, but he brushes it off since he believes me a suicidal disaster. Oh well.

Then I get told I'm going to be brought to the thirteenth floor (where the crazy people and drug addicts go). I get my clothes, I get my purse, but it's back to sitting on the cot again for awhile. I'm told not to touch the contents in my purse, it annoys me. I want my music, but apparently I cant play with the wires or else I might strangle myself or some other such nonsense.

Then I get my first "roommate" in that temporary observation room. He comes in strapped to a wheelchair, four security guys around him. Oh great, won't this be fun.

It takes about a half an hour just to get his belligerent ass on the cot. Then he looks at me. I show an intense interest in my fingers.

"Hey blondie, you have such pretty green eyes."

"They're blue." I don't look at him as I answer, you never make eye contact with the crazies. The real crazies.

"I love you." I blink, but ignore. My hands are so pretty and fun, aren't they?

"Sir, don't talk to her," the nurse says to him. He looks over to her.

"Because she's white, right? The black man can't talk to the white woman, I get it. You know you're a beautiful black woman too, you shouldn't be jealous."

He gets restrained to the bed after about a half an hour of his crap. Trying to get up, trying tp touch me - which makes me hiss at him - trying to constantly talk to me.

Then we get our second who is short lived. An inmate from the jail - smelling like a fuckng inmate from the jail, mind you - getting laid on a bed and after ten minutes of not shutting up about "the dope" and "the government" and something about a fucking duck, she leaves.

Then I get taken to the thirteenth floor. Yay me. Little did I know, it'd be just as bad.

The crazy act is gone now. I got where I wanted to go, now it's just a matter of getting what I want and getting out of there. I get rolled up on the stretcher and the security guard at the crazy floor checks my bags. Getting my cigarettes, my lighter, my headphones (wires, people), my pens, and...

"How the hell did she get past security with this big ass knife?!" Seriously, she said it just like that too.

I try not to snicker, but the look on her face is so funny. It's the pocketknife I got when I broke into the guys car that tried to like molest Nicole one night we were out. You fuck with her, I take your knife. Anyway, I needed another one. Cops always take them away from me. Single, white female, people, I'm a statistic. I need a knife.

"I don't know," the nurse that brought me up.

"And she's a suicide watch?!"

Anyway, after much amusing arguments between the two of them later, I'm brought into the crazy house. They take my shoelaces, but let me keep my piercings, my earings, my jewelery, and my bobby pins... all things I could easily hurt myself with. Way to go, people. You're on top of your game.

I sit down, waiting to be interviewed. Not five minutes later some crazy ho somehow gets herself a pen and comes after me. I sit still and just stare at her, if she stabs me I'll do something about it, if not then I couldn't care less about that animal.

"I'm going to kill you all, starting with this fucking white bitch!"

She's restrained, thrown in containment. Awesome start to the day, right? Then the nurse comes over, asking silly questions like I'm five that are like: "What makes you happy?" and "What upsets you?"

"I like to write... and I don't want people touching me in here." I'd feel contaminated. These people... they aren't even people. I'm getting a holier-than-thou attitude quite quickly.

Theres a bunch of shit over them giving me a pencil and allowing me to write my Leverage fanfiction in my little notebook. It's always because I'm white that I get things, right? No people, it's because I'm not fucking insane. I'm high functioning. Which still sucks, because it's like saying I'm the smartest of the dumb people, which would still makes me dumb.

I dominate the television, like always. Last time I was locked in the loony bin I forced everyone to watch a Xena marathon. But the Bones season finale is on, and I want to watch it. Ever try to watch a TV show you're really into when theres crazy people screaming and freaking out? Yeah, it's difficult. I get the gist of it enough to know I'm unhappy with it. They promised the fans Booth and Bones being in bed together wouldn't be an delusion or dream - it was a dream. And then Booth getting amnesia? Come on. UNHAPPY. ME. RIGHT NOW. But moving on. My Booth/Bones shipper moment was destroyed, but that's not important.

TNT has sports on by this time, so we get USA. It's quickly becoming my new TNT since I've been forced onto it because of all the damn basketball. Everyone watches House and Law & Order: Criminal Intent with me through the morning.

Please keep in mind I've had four hours of sleep the night before, and am confined to a chair. The only places that have beds are where the people go that freak the fuck out, so basically you have to be an animal to not be treated like one. Noted and filed, pissed off about it.

One of the orderlies has the balls to try to figure me out. Because here I am, sitting there acting normal while everyone around me is stark nuts, I don't blame his curiosity.

"Why don't you talk to anyone in here?" he asks me. I watch as the lady who said she's stab me - after getting out of confinement for being good - stuff a sheet under her shirt becoming "pregnant" from some sedated man next to her. He was her new husband.

"I don't consort with human subspecies." He blinks at me, I get amused. Well, don't ask then.

"Are you anti-social?"

"Seeing as I don't particularly like interacting with others, I would say that'd be a yes. I find it healthier than feeling like my IQ is dropping from listening to psycho babble and other people's petty problems." My IQ actually isn't that high, it's only 127 which is not close to being genius (140), but I still feel that way regardless. Not that I'm a genius, because I'm not, but that I'm just generally smarter than most people. More logical too.

He's looking at me really funny now, and I know I'm sounding like I have delusions of grandeur, which if I'm to be honest I might actually have because that's how I really feel most times. Like people aren't good enough to converse with me. But I drop it, because I don't need them having anything else against me. Especially something that might be true.

I get seen by the doctor finally at two am. "What brings you in here, Ms. Bryan?" I'm so sick of being called 'Ms. Bryan', its what everyone's been calling me all day. I hate it. Maybe just because I hate my last name in general.

"To be honest, I lied." She looks taken aback. Yeah, well, time to get to the point. "I said I was suicidal to get a therapist and some meds, because I'm trying to actually fix my problems before they get to this point." I indicate the place around me. All the crazy mother fuckers.

"Oh. Well, we have some standard questions we need to ask," she says. Of course, can't ever just get right to the point, can we?

"When you're feeling upset, what helps you cope?"

I inwardly roll my eyes, I feel like I'm being treated like a child. "Leverage," I tell her. She looks confused.

"What do you mean, 'Leverage'?"

"It's a television show," I tell her, with this tone of voice like she should already know that.

"Oh, so you watch TV?"

"No, that's not what I meant. I write fanfiction, make fan videos, build my website for one of the actresses... that sort of stuff," I say. "I'm creative, always on the computer. I like to exercise that, its one of the things that releases my endorphins."

She looks surprised I even know what those are. God, I don't want to be here anymore. "Would you say you have an addiction to the computer?"

Heavy sigh. "Yes, but it's completely healthy." That's probably a lie, but I'm over it. It's the only thing that keeps me sane.

"It says here you're anti-social, do you think your computer use gets in the way of that?"

I narrow my eyes, "My computer use makes up for it. That's where my social interaction I need comes from."

This entire interview is stupid and annoying. I cut her off after a couple more questions and just say, "Look, am I going to get a therapist or not?" I'm just annoyed. Tired and so fucking annoyed.

"Well, we won't start you on meds, but we'll give you a number to call for a therapist and we'll start to paperwork to release you."

Great, lovely. Get me the fuck out of here.

I need a cigarette.

Into the bathroom, stick my hand down my bra and find myself one and my matches and light it up. Theres no smoke detector in there, which surprised me, so I smoke half than flush the rest down the toilet. No one notices, thank god. I'd figure I'd reek like it, but fuck it. I needed it.

I try to sleep on the god damn chair. It's not working. I'm getting pissed off. Finally at eight I'm released, with that stupid little number that proves this entire fucking thing was pointless:

The number to the Georgia Crisis Hotline: the fucking number I called to get my ass into detox. SERIOUSLY?! So this last 24 hours have been insanely pointless then, right?

I want to cry, I want to scream. I kind of want to hit someone, which I don't do. Violence against others is barbaric.

I go home and pass out, and now here I am, awake, just fucking angry. So there's what happened, there's the entire pointlessness of it all.

Fuck the system.

Labels: bones, crazy, leverage, mental hospital

I swear at some point during the day I had a list of things to do, and a plan to get them all done. How do I always get myself so sidetracked? It was really simple too, anything that a fully capable adult should be able to do in a matter of the day they are awake. All I had to do was:


-Do the laundry
-Take out the trash
-Watch the series premier of Leverage
-Make the custom smoking fetish video request that just came in
-Clean the damn house

I have now been awake and functioning for, oh, probably seven or so hours. I still have another five before I need to attempt to hit the sack, but I know even within those five more hours I still won't get anything done. It wasn't a complete and total waste of my day, however. I did do the laundry and I did watch Leverage, which I recommend to all of you, it seems like it's going to be a great show.

But I somehow managed to get myself distracted with redesigning the layout for this blog, and then obsessively trying to find somewhere to host a stupid mp3 or wav file so I can embed a music player that will play the stupid song this layout is based off of (which is Lady Gaga's "Poker Face"). I honestly find it ridiculous that my hosting website for all three of my websites, while it says it will accept files that are .wav, keeps throwing me errors each time I try to upload it. I'm frustrated, and for now I give up. At least I think I do.

I also finished catching up on Bones, and am now currently up to date. I doubt any of you care, nor are as oddly obsessed with television shows like I seem to be, but it's a "yay me" moment. Honestly, I'm glad to say my obsessions are coming back. Granted they are fleeting, and not as long lasting as they used to be, but I have my moments where a week or two is completely dedicated to one thing that I love. It can be kind of bad, however. For example, yesterday I was up until ten in the morning adding to the official Bones wiki, and chatting on the forums, when I was supposed to be in bed by five am to be able to work tonight.

I also decided to get up the guts to try my hand at a Bones fanfiction. While I've liked the show for awhile, and have been a fan of the pairing of Bones (Temperance Brennan) and Angela Montenegro, I never once tried to write a fanfiction.

If you know me, you're probably asking yourself why. Anytime I ever become a fan of a slash couple, which I tell you always tends to be non canon, which even now is ridiculous because Angela is dating a woman named Roxie, so while it's still not far fetched, I still like the idea of Temperance and her together. Anyway, to get back on track, I never tried to write one because I was slightly intimidated by Bone's IQ. Yes, I'm serious. If you've seen the show, you'll know what I'm talking about. She speaks... oddly. Smart, oddly. So my point is, seeing as my IQ is not near genius level, and seeing as I know nothing about Forensic Anthropology, I kind of stayed away from it.

Yesterday I wrote a one shot Brennan/Angela fic, which I've never done. Not the paring thing, you already know I've never done that. I mean a one shot. I'm not a big believer in them. I think if you have an idea to write a story, you should at least make it a semi-decent length. My stories usually include a chapter range from ten to twenty, and have a word range of at least 15,000 up to 40,000. This was a simple little story, with 1,489 words. I posted it on fanfiction.net, and included in the disclaimer that it was just a tester story to see if I could write Dr. Brennan correctly. I honestly didn't think I did too bad, but I have yet to hear anyone else's opinion. So if you watch the show Bones, and have five minutes out of your day, check out the FanFiction.Net link on the right panel and let me know what you think of my characterization of Temperance.

Anyway, my point being with my problem with being distracted, is now after making a new layout for my blog, I feel the need to make a new layout for my website. It's been awhile since the last change, and I think it's time. Problem is, if I do it, It'll probably be up till noon, and nothing that I need to get done will get done.

Lord, someone make me understand the importance of priorities.

In other less fun news, I've just realized I'm sick. I mean I've been coughing since last night, but I figured that was just due to my smoking problem. But no, now my throat hurts like a bitch and my nose is staring to run. Great, cause you know, since I make all this money every damn day at work (note sarcasm), I can totally afford to take off work. This fails, but I'll live. And I just ate the most disgusting soup ever, why the hell was it in my cubbard?

I logged onto facebook earlier and had a "friend suggestion request". I've never gotten one of those before, but apparently someone wants me to be friends with someone else. So open it, what the hell, maybe I actually know this person and it's not another damn fan trying to integrate my facebook account, which is the only thing I have left on the internet for personal purposes.

It was Hudson.

I was like, wait, what? I saw Anita got one earlier, but I thought Hudson knew absolutely nothing about computers. Kind of reminds me of Brandi, she hounded me for hours to fix her myspace and facebook profiles when she got them. I have this thing where I hate doing things for other people that I find incredibly simple if only people would take the time to look how to do them. Lets all be independent learners like Mary, people.

Anyway, to get back on track, I friend request her. Then I stop and think about that.

Shit, I so should not have done that.

I'm sure you all are like "Why? OMG its like Hudson Leick though!" And um, yeah it is, but her celebrity status barely phases me anymore. That's not my issue. My issue is this...

Right before my YouTube was deleted, I had a video named, "Porn: Bad?" where I spoke about me doing porn, and how people tend to prosecute me because they think it's bad in some way, when I just honestly enjoy it. And I remember clearly, someone wrote a comment that said:

"Oh my god, does Hudson know about this?!"

And of course, I thought it was someone who actually knew me, and actually knew Hudson as well. So it actually bothered me a little. I was kind of snooty back, replying with something along the lines of "I don't see how it's any of your business what or what I don't I tell Hudson." Cause um, it really isn't. Especially after I found out this woman didn't know either of us.

Point is, it bothered me because I don't know if I should, or if I already did. I have this thing with oh, I don't know, not telling people everything about me, but I also conveniently like to leave out alot of shit with Hudson specifically that makes me look even lower than I'm sure she already sees me. She knows alot of my issues, and we all seen how much progress I've made in fixing them. The only thing I've done right is that I've been clean for two weeks. But god knows how long that will last.

So my point of mentioning this entire thing is that I'm scared I won't be able to hide anything anymore. She gets into my facebook, she can get into my website, or my myspace, or fuck anything else I have on the internet. I won't be able to hide behind my "I still have some problems, but I'm doing okay" thing anymore.

I think I just have this problem where I don't want to disappoint her, only because I admire her as a human being, to know (parts, anyway) of what she went through as a young adult and to see her as the woman she is now. I look up to her because I want to be like that, but I feel ridiculous because I keep feeling like I never will. Everytime I get the will to try to stop all the stupid shit and get on track it tends to fade and I go back to hitting the pipe and popping a couple tabs.

I just don't want to disappoint. And I'm pretty sure it'll suck very much to see the look in her eyes the next time I see her if she knows everything, because seeing that look from the person you look up to most in this world just seems like it'd be horrible.

You know what it reminds me of? When my sister looks at me like that. They're about the same age too, and I kind of get the same ashamed feeling when I get lectured by both of them, so I suppose it kind of fits.

And it’s stupid, because when I went through my whole paranoia episode I wished there was some way I could get in touch with Hudson. I usually don’t go there, because once again theres some things I’d rather she not know, but I just needed to speak with her then. And now it’s possible, and I’m terrified.

I’m such a confusing individual.

Labels: angela, bones, brennan, distractions, facebook, fan fiction, femslash, graphic design, hudson leick, lady gaga, launfry, leverage, music, sick, websites

Labels: bones, booth, brennan, happiness, laughter, work sucks

So, me and my roommate Rikki had a conversation awhile back about our radical differences in our television show tastes. About the only thing we truly have in common is "Leverage", though she sucked me into "Big Brother", and I sucked her into "How I Met Your Mother." That's about it. Other than that, I mainly watch crime dramas or scifi dramadys, and she pretty much watches pure dramas/suspense/crazy ass shit that never tells you the answer till the end type of TV shows, or reality shows that make me want to take my head off most days.

But anyway, that made me think about my television choices and what it is that draws them all together, and I'm pretty sure it's the fact that there's not an obnoxious amount of drama. I like drama, don't get me wrong. if you read my fics, it's actually funny because most of my stuff is pure drama and angst, but my TV? I need a balanced amount. Which is why, by the way, I despise "The L Word". Yes, I'm a lesbian and love watching other lesbians make out and be sexy and shit, but that show had so much unnecessary drama it made my head wanna explode.

So. My Top TV show obsessions, and you can see the common denominator pretty clearly:


BUFFY THE VAMPIRE SLAYER (AND ANGEL, BUT YEAH)

Every episode, Buffy (or Angel, respectably) is always kicking some demon's ass or saving the world from hell. But then there's the side drama which basically consists of (in my mind) OMG WHEN ARE BUFFY AND FAITH GOING HAVE SEX?, SPIKE IS MADE OF SO MUCH WIN BUT SWITCHES FROM EVIL/NOT EVIL LIKE A CONFUZZLED PUPPY, RILEY NEEDS TO DIE IN A FIRE, TARA SHOULD HAVE NEVER GOT SHOT, and NO ONE WANTS TO SEE GILES MAKE OUT WITH PEOPLE. NO ONE. EW. Thus, providing a nice balance episode to episode with enough character drama and yet enough of another plot so it doesn't become obnoxiously overwhelming. (and if you want my opinion on Angel, omg the whole Conner storyline needs to be burned and never spoke of again and Season 5 was totally the best season ever IMO)


LEVERAGE

Leverage is actually interesting for me because for the life of me I couldn't give half a crap about the cons. I just don't. I don't even pay attention to them most times (which was a total bitch when I actually had to review the eps for If Magazine). I love the characters and how they're all dysfunctional misfits and I love watching them grow. Season 3 is giving me headache and I'm blacklisting most of it, but I have hope for season 4. And for the love of god, stop making Parker into a fucking Barbie. She was awesome in the first season especially because she wasn't obnoxiously beautiful and, you know, actually RELATED to the rest of us because of that. I mean, come on, we all know Beth is, but Parker looked like a regular person back then (with, granted, an awful fashion sense, but that made her endearing). Can we have that back please? No? Well fuck you then. But anyway! Even though I don't pay attention to who's getting their ass kicked by the Leverage team half the time, I think the balance between characters/cons makes for interesting television. Because as much as I would love entirely character-centric episodes, if there were too many I'd get bored. Fast.


RIZZOLI & ISLES

Okay, well besides this being a cop drama and the obvious answer that every episode has a case, THIS SHOW IS THE GAYEST FUCKING SHOW EVER. & I WANT ITS FIRST BORN. It's like if Xena and SVU had a baby and it spawned this show. No, I'm serious. Anyway, Jane and Maura totally have this unspoken crazy gay love for each other, so what makes this show good are all the moments between them. And as we all know, good things have to come in moderation or it gets obnoxious and overwhelming. If the show was entirely made up of their unrequited lesbian love for each other, it'd probably annoy the shit out of me and I'd want to stab myself in the eye. But no, the cases balance all that out, which makes me wait on bated breath for each new moment that's so gay it's beginning to not even be subtext anymore. Like, really. Now all we have to hope for is that Angie Harmon won't stop the fun train if it's presented to her because apparently because she's a Republican, she must be an asshole to the gays (and to be fair, I'll give that 80% of the time that tends to be true, but I won't judge her until I fully know where she stands). Yay for Sasha though. Just ONE BIG YAY FOR SASHA. I don't need reasons. She's just awesome.


DOCTOR WHO

THIS SHOW. THIS. This is amazing. Every episode they're saving some planet or some other such intergalactic adventure, but you still get sucked into the character drama. LIKE OMG WHO IS RIVER SONG?! AHH. But, okay, I shouldn't get into my crush on River, that'll take awhile. Now, I DO have to say I get sick of the "everyone falls in love with the Doctor" bullshit they've been pulling for a gazillion and a half years, which is probably why I adored Donna like nobodies business. But yes. To reiterate a million times; crazy intergalactic battles vs character drama. Nice balance. AND SOMEONE, PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, MAKE THE DALEKS GO BACK TO THEIR ORIGINAL COLORS. CRYAOLA/POWER RANGERS DON'T INVOKE FEAR. IT MAKES ME GIGGLE. ALOT.


BONES

I admit, I am a Booth/Bones shipper. I usually femslash all to hell and back (and probably still would if the whole Angela/Roxie business wasn't an awful promotional stunt that was poorly managed and made me want to gag). But Booth and Bones? THEY BELONG TOGETHER. And I, like everyone else in the fucking world, bang my head against my desk as they stretch it out and prolong it to the point of absolute INSANITY. But what makes it bearable? Every episode has a case. I also love all the other characters and interns and their side stories. It's good damn TV, really. BALANCE, people. It's about BALANCE. I'm going to keep stressing that lol.


THE CLOSER

Ah, another cop drama. And I'll admit, I only put a picture up of Brenda/Raydor because I want them to have lots of angry hateful sex. Well, okay, I did until they started to kind of get along (which isn't much, but for them it's a milestone) over the whole Chief of Police business. Which we all knew Brenda wasn't gonna get btw, so why even bother? But anyway! This show, like all cop shows, have a case every episode. This is a bit different though because it's pretty much "The Brenda Show" otherwise. Which I don't mind, Brenda is hot and hilarious and I fucking adore her. Also, I think this is the only show that's really be successful with the main character being happily married, and that's EPIC. Fritz is adorable, he is. But Brenda still needs to have angry!sex with Raydor. Now. Anyway! Another nice balance. YAY FOR BALANCE. (oh, and btw, random factoid: this is the first show I've watched religiously since it's aired. I was 18. Aw. I mean, now I have other shows I've done that for, but this was the first. Let's hug it *coddles*)

Now, I'm sure you all are like "wtf, why hasn't she mentioned Xena yet?" Well...


XENA: WARRIOR PRINCESS

Xena's tricky. Xena's hard to define, period. You can't just say she goes around redeeming herself every episode, because that's not true. She's fucked up and there's even episodes that in essence are completely pointless in regards to that aspect. She kicks someone's ass every episode, which is nice. Hm. That. Yeah, we'll go with that. The ass kicking lol. Anyway, outside of all the ass kicking and saving Gabrielle until she was competent enough to save herself, THERE WAS SO MUCH MASSIVE GAY LOVE. And Xena was different than Rizzoli & Isles (and ultimately, I'll still say better) because hey, back then, open gay characters were not very common on TV. Especially prime time. So they hinted all the could at it without actually saying it. There was actually talk about a movie in the works YEARS ago about them finally coming out as lovers, but god knows if that'll ever get filmed. Oh, and Lucy and Renee were totally awesome about the gay stuff and that's a yay. UGGHHH I MISS THIS SHOW SO HARD. Right, anyway, what's my point? Oh yeah, frankly Xena's too epic to ever be truly define, and other shows weep at it's feet from the sheer awesome. That is all. Oh yeah, and a bunch of crap about balance. (which actually they did with drama/action/comedy episodes being switched around all the time, now that I think about it)

Right, so? My point here is the world needs balance, as does TV shows. If you shove DRAMADRAMADRAMA or ANGSTANGSTANGST down my throat I'm likely to gag. Strangely enough I can deal with COMDEDYCOMEDYCOMEDY, but that's another story.

But anyway, this entry cured me of my boredom, and now I'm getting really tired. So. I guess I'm off.

BALANCE, PEOPLE.

End of lesson.

Oh, and those are all the shows I have to watch when they air or I'll die. FTR. Just in case anyone was wondering, which I'm sure you weren't. At all.

Oh yeah, and Skins is the exception to that rule. That drama sucks me in and spits me back out again & I have to watch every week. But then again, it's a British show, which therefore makes it an allowable exception to the rule. Story; end of.



Yeah, the girls are the only one's worth mentioning right now because I'm gayer than a marshmallow spitting rainbows. However, let me say that the third generation (not pictured up there, that's second) is so much fulgier than first and second. Wtf. They better fix them up real good on camera, cause the only official picture I saw they all looked like asshole compared to the other two.

Labels: angel, bones, buffy, doctor who the closer, leverage, rizzoli and isles, xena

I know I don't write in here very often. Mostly because nothing significant has been going on in my life. I could have wrote about how I got drugged that one night, but that wouldn't have been entertaining to ya'll cause well, I can't remember that whole night. No memory equals no blog.

But yesterday, after four hours of sleep I got up at eight thirty to leave my house at nine thirty to catch the bus to go to the hospital. Why? Well, a brilliant idea of my sister's, that's why.

We had a talk a couple days ago how "Grady" (memorial hospital) can be a huge resource for those who have mental disorders. When she tried to commit suicide they set her up with an individual therapist for herself and her daughter, as well as family therapy. She had also seen people get help with jobs and housing because hell, for all intensive purposes I do consider myself homeless. If it's not mine, I don't have it, according to my brain.

So I go, hoping to get therapy, maybe some new meds, and help with getting myself back on my feet.

I take Marta - public transportation - a bus to Innman Park station, a train from Innman to Georgia State Station. Walk three blocks to the hospital. Sit outside for a bit, not beliving I'm actually going to do this because it makes me feel sixteen again, suck down a couple cigarettes, and in I go, through a door that doesn't have any metal detectors (keep that in mind, will be relevant later).

Fill out your form. Name, age, address, do you have insurance... all the bullshit little fields everyone fills out. And then the last little line that says "What brings you to Grady today?".

I scrawl, "I'm going to kill myself if no one stops me." Feel like a jackass for even writing that, and stick it in the little bin where everyone sticks their stupid little forms. Waiting ensues.

I have half a mind a half an hour later to get up and scream if I have to actually slit my throat to get any attention around here because number one, it would fall into my plan of being "suicidal" and number two, I might actually get seen before all these other people. Unfortunately, my pride and intense urges to not screw myself over more than I absolutely need to kick in. I sit still and be quiet.

Some guy tries to hit on me. I glare at him. I'm in the emergency room, are you fucking kidding me? Seriously?

I go to the bathroom and stuff some cigarettes and matches in my bra. Why? Because you can't smoke in there, so says my sister. And fuck NO is that about to happen.

My name gets called, the lady makes me fill out more paperwork until she actually looks at my reason. Her eyes go wide.

"Are you serious?"

No, I'm here for shits and giggles, lady. "YES."

She calls some other nurse, all emergency-like which I find even surprising in an emergency room, and puts me on a stretcher. By this time I actually have to act crazy. Which I've found my "crazy" is a mix between Callisto from Xena and Parker from Leverage. I mimic Callisto's actions, her looks, her eery fascination with moving her fingers, yet I have this airy nonchalance about everything like Parker can have sometimes. People are successfully creeped out, score one.

When you act crazy, which I've been a pro at since the age of fourteen - cause gotta play it up to get the better meds, right? - you have to constantly be aware of how people look at you. You have to gauge their reactions to see if you should play it up just a little bit more or take it down a notch. I don't want to be in a straight jacket after all. Those things are never fun and they have the same uncanny ability as being in handcuffs has - no matter what, when your hands are unusable you ALWAYS have to itch something somewhere where you can't reach. And no, that didn't mean to sound dirty, I meant like your face or your leg or some other mundane body part you can't seem to get your hands at.

That sounded dirty too.

Anyway, I get put into a temporary observation room in the emergency room. Great, because I love to get "observed". Sigh. The bad thing about acting crazy is it gets incredibly tiring and difficult to keep up with after three or more hours. You start slipping, start acting a bit more normal. You go in and out like waves of sanity that just may happen to pass through your brain.

I'm not allowed to get off my cot. I have to get put into one of those hospital dressing gowns. I tell the lady I have no underwear on - because I never fucking do - and there's no way I could move and show my business to everyone else around here. I don't get too far with that one, only get a second robe to cover most of my areas. Great, so far, not so good. I'm usually better at manipulating people than this.

There's this woman outside with a beard, a serious BEARD, moaning in pain. I have the thought cross my mind to be rude, cause aren't all crazy people? But I can't, I'm too human for that sort of pointless stuff.

I'm hungry, so I ask the nurse for food.

"I don't think you'll get food."

I cock an eyebrow at her and say with that creepy little smile that's so Callisto-esque. "That's alright, if you want to starve me I defenitly have no problem with that. That's one way to go."

Needless to say, my hungry ass got me some food. Yeah, don't start with my food, woman. It's starting to look up a bit.

Keep in mind, they have yet to search my purse or anything of that sort. I didn't think I should be worried about that, but then again I forgot I had something very bad in there. They just lock it up, away from where I can get it. I want my phone back, it has music.

I'm bored. For four hours I'm just bored.

I get talked to by two nurses, and then the doctor. By the time the doctor comes around I'm thoroughly annoyed at having to repeat myself and I rock back and forth, glare in place, nails scratching my skin while I tell him, "Can't you just look at your fucking charts? I'm sick of being asked these stupid fucking questions over and over."

I'm never that rude to people, but he brushes it off since he believes me a suicidal disaster. Oh well.

Then I get told I'm going to be brought to the thirteenth floor (where the crazy people and drug addicts go). I get my clothes, I get my purse, but it's back to sitting on the cot again for awhile. I'm told not to touch the contents in my purse, it annoys me. I want my music, but apparently I cant play with the wires or else I might strangle myself or some other such nonsense.

Then I get my first "roommate" in that temporary observation room. He comes in strapped to a wheelchair, four security guys around him. Oh great, won't this be fun.

It takes about a half an hour just to get his belligerent ass on the cot. Then he looks at me. I show an intense interest in my fingers.

"Hey blondie, you have such pretty green eyes."

"They're blue." I don't look at him as I answer, you never make eye contact with the crazies. The real crazies.

"I love you." I blink, but ignore. My hands are so pretty and fun, aren't they?

"Sir, don't talk to her," the nurse says to him. He looks over to her.

"Because she's white, right? The black man can't talk to the white woman, I get it. You know you're a beautiful black woman too, you shouldn't be jealous."

He gets restrained to the bed after about a half an hour of his crap. Trying to get up, trying tp touch me - which makes me hiss at him - trying to constantly talk to me.

Then we get our second who is short lived. An inmate from the jail - smelling like a fuckng inmate from the jail, mind you - getting laid on a bed and after ten minutes of not shutting up about "the dope" and "the government" and something about a fucking duck, she leaves.

Then I get taken to the thirteenth floor. Yay me. Little did I know, it'd be just as bad.

The crazy act is gone now. I got where I wanted to go, now it's just a matter of getting what I want and getting out of there. I get rolled up on the stretcher and the security guard at the crazy floor checks my bags. Getting my cigarettes, my lighter, my headphones (wires, people), my pens, and...

"How the hell did she get past security with this big ass knife?!" Seriously, she said it just like that too.

I try not to snicker, but the look on her face is so funny. It's the pocketknife I got when I broke into the guys car that tried to like molest Nicole one night we were out. You fuck with her, I take your knife. Anyway, I needed another one. Cops always take them away from me. Single, white female, people, I'm a statistic. I need a knife.

"I don't know," the nurse that brought me up.

"And she's a suicide watch?!"

Anyway, after much amusing arguments between the two of them later, I'm brought into the crazy house. They take my shoelaces, but let me keep my piercings, my earings, my jewelery, and my bobby pins... all things I could easily hurt myself with. Way to go, people. You're on top of your game.

I sit down, waiting to be interviewed. Not five minutes later some crazy ho somehow gets herself a pen and comes after me. I sit still and just stare at her, if she stabs me I'll do something about it, if not then I couldn't care less about that animal.

"I'm going to kill you all, starting with this fucking white bitch!"

She's restrained, thrown in containment. Awesome start to the day, right? Then the nurse comes over, asking silly questions like I'm five that are like: "What makes you happy?" and "What upsets you?"

"I like to write... and I don't want people touching me in here." I'd feel contaminated. These people... they aren't even people. I'm getting a holier-than-thou attitude quite quickly.

Theres a bunch of shit over them giving me a pencil and allowing me to write my Leverage fanfiction in my little notebook. It's always because I'm white that I get things, right? No people, it's because I'm not fucking insane. I'm high functioning. Which still sucks, because it's like saying I'm the smartest of the dumb people, which would still makes me dumb.

I dominate the television, like always. Last time I was locked in the loony bin I forced everyone to watch a Xena marathon. But the Bones season finale is on, and I want to watch it. Ever try to watch a TV show you're really into when theres crazy people screaming and freaking out? Yeah, it's difficult. I get the gist of it enough to know I'm unhappy with it. They promised the fans Booth and Bones being in bed together wouldn't be an delusion or dream - it was a dream. And then Booth getting amnesia? Come on. UNHAPPY. ME. RIGHT NOW. But moving on. My Booth/Bones shipper moment was destroyed, but that's not important.

TNT has sports on by this time, so we get USA. It's quickly becoming my new TNT since I've been forced onto it because of all the damn basketball. Everyone watches House and Law & Order: Criminal Intent with me through the morning.

Please keep in mind I've had four hours of sleep the night before, and am confined to a chair. The only places that have beds are where the people go that freak the fuck out, so basically you have to be an animal to not be treated like one. Noted and filed, pissed off about it.

One of the orderlies has the balls to try to figure me out. Because here I am, sitting there acting normal while everyone around me is stark nuts, I don't blame his curiosity.

"Why don't you talk to anyone in here?" he asks me. I watch as the lady who said she's stab me - after getting out of confinement for being good - stuff a sheet under her shirt becoming "pregnant" from some sedated man next to her. He was her new husband.

"I don't consort with human subspecies." He blinks at me, I get amused. Well, don't ask then.

"Are you anti-social?"

"Seeing as I don't particularly like interacting with others, I would say that'd be a yes. I find it healthier than feeling like my IQ is dropping from listening to psycho babble and other people's petty problems." My IQ actually isn't that high, it's only 127 which is not close to being genius (140), but I still feel that way regardless. Not that I'm a genius, because I'm not, but that I'm just generally smarter than most people. More logical too.

He's looking at me really funny now, and I know I'm sounding like I have delusions of grandeur, which if I'm to be honest I might actually have because that's how I really feel most times. Like people aren't good enough to converse with me. But I drop it, because I don't need them having anything else against me. Especially something that might be true.

I get seen by the doctor finally at two am. "What brings you in here, Ms. Bryan?" I'm so sick of being called 'Ms. Bryan', its what everyone's been calling me all day. I hate it. Maybe just because I hate my last name in general.

"To be honest, I lied." She looks taken aback. Yeah, well, time to get to the point. "I said I was suicidal to get a therapist and some meds, because I'm trying to actually fix my problems before they get to this point." I indicate the place around me. All the crazy mother fuckers.

"Oh. Well, we have some standard questions we need to ask," she says. Of course, can't ever just get right to the point, can we?

"When you're feeling upset, what helps you cope?"

I inwardly roll my eyes, I feel like I'm being treated like a child. "Leverage," I tell her. She looks confused.

"What do you mean, 'Leverage'?"

"It's a television show," I tell her, with this tone of voice like she should already know that.

"Oh, so you watch TV?"

"No, that's not what I meant. I write fanfiction, make fan videos, build my website for one of the actresses... that sort of stuff," I say. "I'm creative, always on the computer. I like to exercise that, its one of the things that releases my endorphins."

She looks surprised I even know what those are. God, I don't want to be here anymore. "Would you say you have an addiction to the computer?"

Heavy sigh. "Yes, but it's completely healthy." That's probably a lie, but I'm over it. It's the only thing that keeps me sane.

"It says here you're anti-social, do you think your computer use gets in the way of that?"

I narrow my eyes, "My computer use makes up for it. That's where my social interaction I need comes from."

This entire interview is stupid and annoying. I cut her off after a couple more questions and just say, "Look, am I going to get a therapist or not?" I'm just annoyed. Tired and so fucking annoyed.

"Well, we won't start you on meds, but we'll give you a number to call for a therapist and we'll start to paperwork to release you."

Great, lovely. Get me the fuck out of here.

I need a cigarette.

Into the bathroom, stick my hand down my bra and find myself one and my matches and light it up. Theres no smoke detector in there, which surprised me, so I smoke half than flush the rest down the toilet. No one notices, thank god. I'd figure I'd reek like it, but fuck it. I needed it.

I try to sleep on the god damn chair. It's not working. I'm getting pissed off. Finally at eight I'm released, with that stupid little number that proves this entire fucking thing was pointless:

The number to the Georgia Crisis Hotline: the fucking number I called to get my ass into detox. SERIOUSLY?! So this last 24 hours have been insanely pointless then, right?

I want to cry, I want to scream. I kind of want to hit someone, which I don't do. Violence against others is barbaric.

I go home and pass out, and now here I am, awake, just fucking angry. So there's what happened, there's the entire pointlessness of it all.

Fuck the system.

Labels: bones, crazy, leverage, mental hospital

I swear at some point during the day I had a list of things to do, and a plan to get them all done. How do I always get myself so sidetracked? It was really simple too, anything that a fully capable adult should be able to do in a matter of the day they are awake. All I had to do was:


-Do the laundry
-Take out the trash
-Watch the series premier of Leverage
-Make the custom smoking fetish video request that just came in
-Clean the damn house

I have now been awake and functioning for, oh, probably seven or so hours. I still have another five before I need to attempt to hit the sack, but I know even within those five more hours I still won't get anything done. It wasn't a complete and total waste of my day, however. I did do the laundry and I did watch Leverage, which I recommend to all of you, it seems like it's going to be a great show.

But I somehow managed to get myself distracted with redesigning the layout for this blog, and then obsessively trying to find somewhere to host a stupid mp3 or wav file so I can embed a music player that will play the stupid song this layout is based off of (which is Lady Gaga's "Poker Face"). I honestly find it ridiculous that my hosting website for all three of my websites, while it says it will accept files that are .wav, keeps throwing me errors each time I try to upload it. I'm frustrated, and for now I give up. At least I think I do.

I also finished catching up on Bones, and am now currently up to date. I doubt any of you care, nor are as oddly obsessed with television shows like I seem to be, but it's a "yay me" moment. Honestly, I'm glad to say my obsessions are coming back. Granted they are fleeting, and not as long lasting as they used to be, but I have my moments where a week or two is completely dedicated to one thing that I love. It can be kind of bad, however. For example, yesterday I was up until ten in the morning adding to the official Bones wiki, and chatting on the forums, when I was supposed to be in bed by five am to be able to work tonight.

I also decided to get up the guts to try my hand at a Bones fanfiction. While I've liked the show for awhile, and have been a fan of the pairing of Bones (Temperance Brennan) and Angela Montenegro, I never once tried to write a fanfiction.

If you know me, you're probably asking yourself why. Anytime I ever become a fan of a slash couple, which I tell you always tends to be non canon, which even now is ridiculous because Angela is dating a woman named Roxie, so while it's still not far fetched, I still like the idea of Temperance and her together. Anyway, to get back on track, I never tried to write one because I was slightly intimidated by Bone's IQ. Yes, I'm serious. If you've seen the show, you'll know what I'm talking about. She speaks... oddly. Smart, oddly. So my point is, seeing as my IQ is not near genius level, and seeing as I know nothing about Forensic Anthropology, I kind of stayed away from it.

Yesterday I wrote a one shot Brennan/Angela fic, which I've never done. Not the paring thing, you already know I've never done that. I mean a one shot. I'm not a big believer in them. I think if you have an idea to write a story, you should at least make it a semi-decent length. My stories usually include a chapter range from ten to twenty, and have a word range of at least 15,000 up to 40,000. This was a simple little story, with 1,489 words. I posted it on fanfiction.net, and included in the disclaimer that it was just a tester story to see if I could write Dr. Brennan correctly. I honestly didn't think I did too bad, but I have yet to hear anyone else's opinion. So if you watch the show Bones, and have five minutes out of your day, check out the FanFiction.Net link on the right panel and let me know what you think of my characterization of Temperance.

Anyway, my point being with my problem with being distracted, is now after making a new layout for my blog, I feel the need to make a new layout for my website. It's been awhile since the last change, and I think it's time. Problem is, if I do it, It'll probably be up till noon, and nothing that I need to get done will get done.

Lord, someone make me understand the importance of priorities.

In other less fun news, I've just realized I'm sick. I mean I've been coughing since last night, but I figured that was just due to my smoking problem. But no, now my throat hurts like a bitch and my nose is staring to run. Great, cause you know, since I make all this money every damn day at work (note sarcasm), I can totally afford to take off work. This fails, but I'll live. And I just ate the most disgusting soup ever, why the hell was it in my cubbard?

I logged onto facebook earlier and had a "friend suggestion request". I've never gotten one of those before, but apparently someone wants me to be friends with someone else. So open it, what the hell, maybe I actually know this person and it's not another damn fan trying to integrate my facebook account, which is the only thing I have left on the internet for personal purposes.

It was Hudson.

I was like, wait, what? I saw Anita got one earlier, but I thought Hudson knew absolutely nothing about computers. Kind of reminds me of Brandi, she hounded me for hours to fix her myspace and facebook profiles when she got them. I have this thing where I hate doing things for other people that I find incredibly simple if only people would take the time to look how to do them. Lets all be independent learners like Mary, people.

Anyway, to get back on track, I friend request her. Then I stop and think about that.

Shit, I so should not have done that.

I'm sure you all are like "Why? OMG its like Hudson Leick though!" And um, yeah it is, but her celebrity status barely phases me anymore. That's not my issue. My issue is this...

Right before my YouTube was deleted, I had a video named, "Porn: Bad?" where I spoke about me doing porn, and how people tend to prosecute me because they think it's bad in some way, when I just honestly enjoy it. And I remember clearly, someone wrote a comment that said:

"Oh my god, does Hudson know about this?!"

And of course, I thought it was someone who actually knew me, and actually knew Hudson as well. So it actually bothered me a little. I was kind of snooty back, replying with something along the lines of "I don't see how it's any of your business what or what I don't I tell Hudson." Cause um, it really isn't. Especially after I found out this woman didn't know either of us.

Point is, it bothered me because I don't know if I should, or if I already did. I have this thing with oh, I don't know, not telling people everything about me, but I also conveniently like to leave out alot of shit with Hudson specifically that makes me look even lower than I'm sure she already sees me. She knows alot of my issues, and we all seen how much progress I've made in fixing them. The only thing I've done right is that I've been clean for two weeks. But god knows how long that will last.

So my point of mentioning this entire thing is that I'm scared I won't be able to hide anything anymore. She gets into my facebook, she can get into my website, or my myspace, or fuck anything else I have on the internet. I won't be able to hide behind my "I still have some problems, but I'm doing okay" thing anymore.

I think I just have this problem where I don't want to disappoint her, only because I admire her as a human being, to know (parts, anyway) of what she went through as a young adult and to see her as the woman she is now. I look up to her because I want to be like that, but I feel ridiculous because I keep feeling like I never will. Everytime I get the will to try to stop all the stupid shit and get on track it tends to fade and I go back to hitting the pipe and popping a couple tabs.

I just don't want to disappoint. And I'm pretty sure it'll suck very much to see the look in her eyes the next time I see her if she knows everything, because seeing that look from the person you look up to most in this world just seems like it'd be horrible.

You know what it reminds me of? When my sister looks at me like that. They're about the same age too, and I kind of get the same ashamed feeling when I get lectured by both of them, so I suppose it kind of fits.

And it’s stupid, because when I went through my whole paranoia episode I wished there was some way I could get in touch with Hudson. I usually don’t go there, because once again theres some things I’d rather she not know, but I just needed to speak with her then. And now it’s possible, and I’m terrified.

I’m such a confusing individual.

Labels: angela, bones, brennan, distractions, facebook, fan fiction, femslash, graphic design, hudson leick, lady gaga, launfry, leverage, music, sick, websites

Labels: bones, booth, brennan, happiness, laughter, work sucks

My name is Mary. I'm a 24 year old creative mess. I like to tell stories in anyway that I can, though mostly through visual artwork. I enjoy film editing, writing, modeling, photography, dancing, and website design. I'm a lesbian. I'm bipolar. I'm stronger than I usually give myself credit for. I'm a recovering drug addict. I'm passionate as all hell. I'm a beautiful disaster. I want to be free. I want to fly.

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