But here I am anyway. Blogging. Being an armchair theorist. Trying to make wide-sweeping generalities for unique individuals. (It was a not a good week for me education-wise, if you can't tell.)
But then again, I feel that way about most things. I should be writing my novels more, I should be doing more at the university, I should do more social activities, I should, you know, cure cancer and create the next greatest piece of technology while I'm at it. And then I end up belittling the stuff I actually am doing.
Not to mention I have been arguing with myself about TV fandoms, one of the newest joys in my life. I love being a fan of TV shows, I really do. I don't own T-shirts or go to fan meetings really or create fan art. I just like talking about them and watching them; I'm pretty boring fan-wise. But in a few of my classes, we've talking about how interesting (or perverse, depending on the professor) it is that people organize themselves to promote all sorts of fandom causes (ex: the "I Believe in Sherlock" campaign and the support that brought about the film Serenity after the TV show Firefly was cancelled). Of course, this is then compared to social issues and the question comes about, "Well, why don't these people do something to take care of problems in the real world?"
You are, of course, assuming that they don't at all (and that TV isn't a legitimate part of the real world, but that takes us down a different line of argument). Social activism isn't easy; I had my hand in it in high school, trying to get people in my hometown to support a levy so that the fine arts programs in the school district wouldn't get cut. It is frustrating, it takes a lot of time, and IT IS HARD. So it's not impossible to do both (however, it does bother me when fandoms say being a fan should be a full-time job because of all the time and emotional trauma they go through. Sorry, dears, but I don't think that's quite right.)
And then, to top it all off, I've had my personal fangirling experiences explode in my face. Well, not really explode, more like implode. Some time ago, I mentioned that I wrote a letter to said favorite celebrity (you know who. If you don't know who - you must be new here (and welcome)). And then I came across this article from the New York Times in which it states that said favorites actor's "address of his London home became public knowledge when he applied to expand his apartment into the one beneath it..."
I still feel really bad about it. That's what I get for sending fanmail - an odd, creepy, self-blaming sinking feeling. It figures.
So there you are. It's been a rather weird week. I will try to get back to the regularly scheduled programming, but I can't promise that - I have finals in a week and all hell is about to break loose. So we shall see what we shall see.
You know, out of all the hedgehog-Martin Freeman things I've found, I actually rather like this one. Oh, dear God, it's winning me over (actually, compared to the other stuff I see on a daily basis on Tumblr, this lot is rather tame. For the most part). But no, really, the angry hedgehog man line makes me smile. It makes me think of Mumford and Sons. Think about it...