Silence please

Firstly... why is there a "Silence please" notice in the disabled loo? It's an actual yellow laminated notice with "Please return to Mrs J Custard after use" at the bottom. Some things that happen round here defy explanation.

Secondly, thanks to everyone who gave me feedback for the M*A*S*H fic. I am now in a very happy-rabbit-type mood... I think I might even post it on the mash-slash list, but not now. Now, must go to biology and have more people looking at my earlobes in frank disgust.

And thirdly... I don't think there is a thirdly. It's not as if anything has actually happened this morning, apart from the fact eniddy appears to be AWOL...

Trivial affairs

Ah... am tired. I don't really know what to do with myself for the next hour or so. Becca has just realised she has a controlled coursework piece this afternoon, and has only just written it. She's now curled up somewhere trying to learn it.
I drowsed through biology... if that can be used as a verb. Kind of like yesterday in Classics, when I was daydreaming, and got suddenly returned to full consciousness by Mrs Wadsworth saying the words, "...and he's holding a huge erect penis..."
Blink. What the hell?
And we've still got the Pompeiian brothels to go yet...

I think I may safely say I'm bored. Which is not a good thing. Because usually, I can keep myself amused. It is the one advantage of being an only child - actually, one of many, but this is a good one - you can always create a little world in your head. I don't think I ever had an actual imaginary friend, but my teddy-bears and bunnies had personalities as well as names... the only reason they didn't talk out loud was because they were shy.

There are a couple of thirds next to me talking. Makes me wonder when I grew out of my interest in such trivial affairs, and if I ever did.
The above sentence is so laden with misplaced superiority I think here would be a good time to stop.
Here.

Spaces between paragraphs...

Ah... death to all teenboppers!

Sounds like such a ridiculous thing to say, but there seem to be a disproportionate amount of morons round here. Anyway.... once again, the problem was the people I ride the bus with. While I'm on the subject, I don't think I want to get the bus any more. Quite apart from the general moronics, I always have a niggling feeling I'm too old to get a school bus home. I can do GCSEs, I can naviagate the public transport system.

As I was saying... Stephanie Kershaw, loud, obnoxious, and boring to know - I think I once said to her, in all seriousness, "How do you talk so much and say so little?" - wanted to borrow my CD player, to listen to the kind of music I listen to. She listened to it - it was Something Corporate's Punk Rock Princess, not Nirvana - and gave me a look. "It's not headbangy!"

I was holding a lollipop in my mouth at that moment. I took it out and sucked it slowly - but like so many of my comments and gestures, it was lost on them. They're so, so ignorant... I think someone asked "Were they the ones supporting Westlife?"

I bit back the sarcasm, and said reasonably, "No, they're currently supporting New Found Glory," thinking that yes, here is a band they'll have heard of.
But no. I gave up, stuck the lollipop back into my mouth and listened to Globes and Maps.

Of course, I promptly told Pedar all of this when he picked me up. "But you're different from them," he said. "You're not part of the in-crowd, are you?"
I gave him a do-you-know-me-but-at-all look.
"You see," he said. "Not everyone listens to rock music like you do. You're different."
I asked him if I was to be defined by the type of music I listen to.
"How old are you?" he asked.
"Fifteen," I said.
"Then yes."

I'm sure that made sense to him. But he always says, my life will apparently get less and less complicated as I grow up. Which is again something I'm sure made sense to him.

But no. I am in a reasonably good mood. My French teacher didn't turn up this afternoon - I spent the time doing my maths coursework, which gets rid of a large portion of stuff I planned to do tonight. It'll probably be Chemistry and English Lit.

Why do I regale the world with the story of my life, again?

Fangirlishness - because I never reuse a subject

This is lonely.
snowdrop24 is going through an obsessive Stargate fangirlishness phase.
purplerainbow is a Buffy fangirl.
osiris13 is a part of NaNoWriMo, which isn't quite the same thing, but is something.

But I'm not a fangirlie any more, not really. I can't cope with Stargate fandom any more - not that SG-5 wasn't one of the more refreshingly different experiences of my life, but still - because I don't feel up to the flamewars. I think I'm quoting from one of scorpionmars's icons, but "Feel no shame for what you are" is one of the precious few things I believe in. I don't want to have to continually defend what I liked and didn't like about Stargate, and those are past tense verbs because I don't think I qualify as a Stargate fangirlie any more.

I love M*A*S*H - but it isn't a fandom in the true sense of the word. It's more like a community, because it's so small. I love it, but I'm new to it.

I never really noticed how much of my life is taken up by fangirlishness. And now it's not there... I don't like it. It feels lonely.