Whoever Dances is One with the Universe

So when I'm not making whiny posts on my livejournal and writing horrible papers that will earn failing grades, sometimes I write fanfiction. A lot of my fanfiction lately has been about my horrible Arthurian space AU that nobody actually cares about, but some of it has been in the Sherlock fandom, a fandom I was wickedly lured into by Liz and Jen and lyricnote, who are terrible people.

It occurred to me that I am actually allowed to post this fanfiction, even if it is ridiculous and a WIP and everybody hates WIPs.

I find the bizarre mixture of the very serious and the comical/ridiculous that pervades this show to be fascinating and weird. It's also hard to write. It exists in Firefly, too, but it seems weirder in Sherlock. Anyway, I realise my Sherlock Holmes is vaguely autism spectrum, and I don't care. >_> Writing sociopaths is hard for me; and besides, I think Benedict Cumberbatch's portrayal has distinctly autistic notes. My Sherlock is also horrifically asexual, srry there will be no sex in this fic. >_<

Title: The Antidote
Fandom: Sherlock
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock, John, one-sided John/Sherlock, Sarah and Mycroft sort-of.
Rating: PG-16
Summary: I DON'T EVEN KNOW. Sherlock is on a mission to prevent Sarah from stealing John away from him.
Notes: Part 1. Part II is currently 3/4 finished.

( The Antidote )

---

Title: Case Studies
Fandom: Sherlock
Characters/Pairings: Sherlock, Mycroft
Rating: PG
Summary: Maybe this is why Mycroft describes himself as Sherlock's arch-enemy. >_> Kid!fic.
Notes: My Mycroft is totally a germaphobe. I think it is distressingly plausible.

( Case Studies )

GO WATCH THIS. It is Deep Space 9, Alexander Siddig-as-Bashir, "I Wish I Were James Bond" songvid. GO WATCH IT WHY ARE YOU STILL READING MY POAST.

Iii am going to the Small Press Expo to-morrow and Sunday with some people from school, specifically isjusterin and her ~romantic interest~, and I think it is going to be awesome. We're trying to rope Liz into it too, but she's resisting.

But she has arthritis, so knocking her down and tying her up may not be that hard.*

In the meantime, I am trying to do my laundry so I have actual underwear for to-morrow, and reading Stephane Lambiel porn, because I am a terrible person. At least I know it.


*yeah right. she's a second-degree black belt in karate.

AHHHHHH. AHHHHHH. OH GOD NO.

Exhibit A: Alexander Siddig's goddamn sexy beard, THE WAY GOD INTENDED.

Exhibit B: Alexander Siddig's HORRIBLE MONSTER MOUSTACHE FROM HELL, PERSONALLY ENDORSED by SATAN HIMSELF. SHAVE THAT SHIT, GODDAMN. DO NOT WANT.

To cleanse ourselves, I suggest a few more pictures of The Beard, as it should be. Oh, Mr. Siddig, you sexy sexy sexy beardy man-god.

Please be mine.

Mmmmm. Now I feel better.

It’s a little hard to sum up everything that’s going on right now, but I can give it a good try, or at least make a bulletpoint list of the important items, which may work just as well.

--My granddad will probably be dead within the next month. We thought it would be more than that, but he’s sicker than everyone thought. He’s in hospice care, and I know they are going to make him as comfortable as a person can be until he dies. It really is the dying that’s harder than the death--if I thought he would live the same amount of time and die on the same day but without any of the pain I think it would be almost easy to acknowledge. It’s just that he hurts so much, and all the time.

--The good news is that that’s the only really bad news. Otherwise, Christmas was kind of quiet. Will has decided he wants to be a dentist, which is really weird to me, but he’s got two more years before he’s even in college, so. I just find the dentist part surreal, since Will is a very, very handsome boy who keeps a coffin in his room and plays guitar in a rock band.

--I got my ears pierced as a present to me, which is sort of exciting. I have little stars in my ears! It only hurt a lot! I am totally going to forget to turn them every night, and I am going to rely on the_chloroplast to help me know how to do this right.

--Sherlock Holmes was utterly crazy and totally wonderful, and I loved it. Also, Maria has a celebrity crush on Robert Downey Jr., which is really really funny. I think we’re going to watch it again on New Year’s unless there is something better coming out, which I doubt.

--We watched the Star Trek episode where Kirk gets body switched with Dr. Lester last night, and somehow I’ve promised to write Maria Spock/Kirkette. That episode is just crazy, though, because it’s the most incredibly brilliant plot idea and they totally didn’t realise what they had in their hands, I think. The mutiny aspects are played up and the absolutely gorgeous unspoken Kirk-Spock interaction is just treated as mundane, which is really isn’t. Also the loyalty of the crew to Kirk, and also how badass Kirk is as a woman--a lot more badass than he is as a man, actually, but it’s really cool. I can also see how the episode could be perceived as incredibly misogynistic, and I was wondering where anybody else has seen it--particularly greyswandir. Because I want to know what other people got out of it. But I really loved it, and now I owe Maria fic, which is terrible, and it is going to be terrible.

--I’m going to post my Yuletide fic here as soon as I can, but I’m really reassured because my recipient liked it a lot, and that makes me feel really good. I was hoping she would. >_> I might actually creep on her and friend her after the reveal. I wonder if that’s bad manners.

--I also wrote Galahad/Sagramore, for some reason, but I’m not actually planning to post that unless there is some demand for baffling religious imagery and Galahad’s extremely weird relationships with people.

--I’m actually writing all this at two-thirty in the morning, even though I’m posting it now. There are kittens scratching on my door. I am going to kill them. Mabon walked through my paint to-day while I was working in my crafting area, and the Tribble is the cutest, cuddliest looking poof of fur, but when you try to pet her she glares at you and walks away.

--It's no longer two-thirty in the morning, and I have discovered, on the way to the library, that my car's speedometre and odometre no longer work. Also, he does not want to shift into first gear, and is making a very weird dripping noise when I drive. O_o This is really not the time, Car. Much as ilu.

--I swear to God I’m working on people’s Twelfth Night stuff!

--I am still on dialup and do not dare to try to inspect what has been going on in my flist during my absence, so you tell me! How was your holidays? My hopes are for the best--although it’s freezing, there is an almost full moon outside, and it is very beautiful

O, flist, what did I do to-day? I will give you a hint: it was disgusting. I will give you another hint: it involved maggots. I will give you a third hint: it involved turkeys, and their nests, and their habit of squashing their eggs and then sitting on them anyway.

O, flist, I may never be the same.

On the plus side, finally watched the Merlin episode I have had on my computer for months and months and months, and it was hilarious. Oh, Mr. Siddig, you are the love of my life, you and your goofiness and your hawt hawt beard and your clearly hamming it up for the camera liek whoa, and your shortness and how cute you look with scars and furs. Ee eee eee. Also, Arthur was a dork and I have to say that the chainmail was not flattering. But CUTE. But MR. SIDDIG. Eeee. "RARR RARR I AM A BIG SCARY VILLAIN AND I WILL BE ALL VILLAINOUS AND SMACK BABIES! HA HA! SMACK SMACK! CHECK OUT MY RAD BARBARIAN ARMOUR. NOW I WILL DO SOME PILLAGING!" ♥ ♥ guh.

Also, have kind of a crush on Sendil Ramamurthy.

I need to bicycle to-morrow. Something in the open air, fast and fresh and flying and far, far away from maggoty nesting boxes. I'm so tired of stagnation. I want to be fleet.

I was just thinking about this, because reconditarmonia posted about it in her LJ sort of, and.

Sexuality is really fluid, isn't it? And I was thinking about this, because I think it's fairly acknowledged that sexuality is fluid, and yet people seem to do a pretty bad job of looking at it that way, myself included. It's not binary, that we acknowledge: you aren't just gay or straight, there's gay and bi and pan and trans and intersex and bicurious and heteroromantic and asexual and just so many things out there, and when you are one of them it's a big part of your identity, I think (and before anybody says anything about how their sexuality is a big part of their identity, I don't mean expressed identity here). It definitely makes up its piece in who you are.

But it's changeable, not by force of will but by time and maturity and slow but solid things, the way you can't make yourself taller by wishing but someday you may get taller, or you may just as easily stay the same.

The funny thing is, I think we really tend to treat sexuality like a permanent thing, and, even more, like something that has to be diagnosed. Most people want to know what their sexuality is. I think that's probably because we exist in a culture so concerned with labels, with knowing who you are and where you fit in, what your place is--and that's not a negative concept, but I think it's a true one. And the deal, I think, is that sexuality does not need to be diagnosed. It's free-flowing and it's part of who you are, but if it's at all possible I think the best thing is really just to love who you love, whatever gender that person happens to be, whatever gender you happen to be.

Now obviously that won't happen because there are societal conventions to contend with, there's what we grow up with and what we learn. On the other hand, I really think I'm happiest when I'm not worrying about whether I like girls or boys better, when I just realise that I like someone and enjoy the fact that I do. Sexual desire and crushing and romance and all that jazz are just totally normal parts of being a human being, really of being an animal, and they're not there to confuse and threaten. Biologically they're there to propagate a species (and, as holyschist pointed out, to community-build), but from a less scientific point of view, they're there to enjoy. We're a species blessed with the capability to love and sex and do both or just one or neither or however we like best, and there's no reason to be disturbed by that.

So here's the deal: there are people here I like. Is it fun having crushes, unfulfilled or not? Yes, it totally is. Is it fun when I get to kiss someone I like who likes me? Yes! It's wonderful. Should I not kiss people I don't like? That seems fairly logical. Can I pine for someone I like who isn't interested in me? Go wild, little Soujin. Do I have to worry about the gender of any of these people, and what that gender implies for my own sexual proclivities?

Nnnnot really. There's no reason why I should treat any of my relationships differently on the basis of gender and how it pertains to my orientation. That doesn't mean I won't; and it definitely shouldn't be taken to mean that there might not be societal repercussions (although Juniata is pretty open-minded and I don't think there would be). But why should I feel the need to label myself when my orientation honestly may change completely in a year, or five, or however long?

Who I love is a big part of who I am. But it will be part of me no matter what I call myself. I have decided, for the now, not to worry about it.

(On a side note: sometimes having a name for it is actually very important, especially for people who are confused and need a name to put to a feeling. But for people who are in fairly supportive environments where people are not going to care what your orientation is really, it seems fair to yourself not to worry yourself over it. You are who you are.)

And on a vaguely related note: America Ferrara is HOT. I hope she never loses weight.

Oh, this is terrible, but I want to see Pineapple Express so bad. >_> And I should not, and I know that it will probably be horribly violent and trigger the everlovin' out of me and just be an awful film generally, but omg.

COURFEYRAC ON CRACK.

I got nothing.

Oh man oh man.

(As you can see, I survived my working weekend. BARELY.)

I really like Jennifer Garner, I think. She looks a lot like Robin Wright Penn (or at least she does in 13 Going on Thirty), and I am not at all ashamed to admit that I am madly in girlcrushy love with Mrs. Penn.

And then--I feel far too eager to-day. I'm ready for something--! I don't know what.

We spent the day at the Oriental house. We planted trees. Waen and I walked down the creek. I slept in the sun on the porch, read outside, brought a pan of sweet feed for RoofandRobin and they ate it when I wasn't looking away; I went down the chute in the hayloft and Waen thought it was deeper than it was and was actually impressed for a little while.

There's so much sad happening lately, and I'm coming through it, and sometimes I'm scared that I shouldn't be, that I'm not sorrowing enough for it, and I don't know exactly what is right, or how soon you're allowed to put something by and go on. I guess it's the sort of thing you have to decide for yourself, but sometimes that's hard.

Also I watched Star Trek: Nemesis to-day, and I thought it was really good; I don't know whether if I were actually a good Star Trek fan, instead of someone who just finds Patrick Stewart ridiculously shiny, I would know whether it's good within the context of the series.

I telephoned Amy to see if I could find out if she's still alive, but I got her answering machine. I left a message. I telephoned Tom, too, but didn't get him. I made him a silly; I want to show him.

Before I take them all back to the library, I need to write my silly dorky post about Mr. Morris, Ms. Springer, and Ms. Sutcliff, and about their different YA Arthuriana. I also need to write the next chapter of Catechism (I have it all planned out, so it's really a matter of writing it instead of stalling), and my term paper--I finally got everything ready for my term paper, so that, too, is just a matter of sitting down and doing it. I haven't touched Tom Jones in two weeks. >_> But I have read a few other things. I'm trying to return all the books to the library that I've had hidden in my room for ages. I'm trying to clean my room and make it look good for the showing.

We've had to paint over all Waen's murals. I don't know if anyone remembers the horse? It's being painted over. We're salvaging a few of her doors; I'm taking The Bell-Tree for my door, and I think she wants The Spanish Lady, but for the most part we're leaving everything behind under three coats of paint.

Going back to work to-morrow. I hope Gayle's back from the hospital. I've missed her so much.

I really love you. I want to make sure you know.