More blathering.

Like asilvahalo, I don't really believe I'm going to get sued. But if I do, it's going to be on my fucking head, people. Mine. Okay? I do not speak for the slash community, and I fucking refuse to be 'resonsible' for its well-being? Because communities bounce back from a lot.

I'm 'out' as a slasher and as an RPSer to my family, to my friends, to even my coworkers. I guess, yeah, I'm doing my part to make fanfic of all kinds more public. But you know, I think slash, even and especially RPS, is a lot less private than people would like to think. My coworker'd heard of it and come across it. Sex Pistols and Metallica fanfic has been publicised in Q Magazine. There's been numerous mentions of FPS and RPS in the press.

We are 'out', folks. And the sky hasn't fallen. Yet? Perhaps. In any way, it's not my job to hold it up.

Okay.

I'm reading this and instead of contentrating on Chris and joey, I'm awwing over the cuteness that is Nick and justin. And they're not even really doing anything. I sicken myself.

Hm.

minette asked a good question. Cause, you know. I actually had morer moral dilemma's about writing FPS than about RPS. Because RPS is really just sharing fantasies everyone has about celebrities, while FPS is taking someone else's creation and playing with them. It feels creepy, even still does sometimes, like I'm reaching inside someone's mind and stealing what's there and using it for my own pleasure and then putting it back without said person noticing. RPS, though? That's just me indulging in my own private fantasies.

Thoughts

I realised I'm rather defensive when it comes to the boysband thing. I'm defensive when it comes to my music in general, but the boysband thing is what people look down on the most. Diss my music and I will become a fierce lioness protecting her cubs.

I'm a writer. Writing is what I do. Writer's blocks drive me batty, up the wall and round the fucking corner. But not to suicide. Deafness, though, would do that. Because although writing is my (ahem) 'calling', my talent, my purpose in life, music is what holds me up, what keeps me alive and sane and breathing.

I'm thirteen, and a Beatlesfan in a school full of technoheads, and it was one of the things they latched onto the most, and if only I could give in and adjust, everything'd be fine, but i can't.

Because it touched me. In My Life made me sniffly. Obladi Oblada made me giggle. Here Comes the Sun made me happy. In Not Those Damn English Freaks But Still Borig Old People Music: Bridge Over Troubled Water fucking tore me up. The songs touched me. I couldn't, wouldn't give them up no matter how much I was mocked, taunted, looked down on, and bullied for it.

Later, there was Dylan, who can take me through the whole emotional spectrum in the space of one CD, and Metallica and the Sex Pistols and Bon Jovi and ABBA and Meat Loaf and all the music that touched me, made me feel.

There's this shiny new place in my emotional spectrum, where I'm not angry or hurt or frustrated but just cheerily violent, flipping the whole world the finger, and it's a good place to be in and whether I use So What or Pop or It's My Life or Break Stuff, does it really matter? Do you really care? Do Is it really a reason to look down on me?

I hate it when people judge me by anything but who I really am. My taste in music, the way I dress, the way I talk, the way I walk, where I work, where I shop, what I watch, what I write, who my friends are, none of these things are me.

And judging me or anyone else by those criteria is incredibly snobbish and prejudiced.

(no subject)

See, this is what I mean. I hart this song. It's a good song. And whoever is singing it has a voice that goes right to my tearducts. Fuckers. Um, pointers, anyone? Who's singing this? Like, the intro bit?

Um. Yeah. Okay. What?

So. Nick/Justin.

I have a bunny. It's weird. It's a ripoff of sorts of this. Cause I was reading it and Nickay and Justin were so freaking cute I wanted them to have a series or something all to themselves and then it got warped.

It's writing itself in my head. Noooo, lay off, mutant bunny, I've to unpaaaaaack!

Help?