being fannish. and such.
Man, nothing improves a good Doctor/Rose fic. Except, of course, the judicious inclusion of Jack at the end there. It's kind of odd how attached I am -- and most of fandom is, it seems -- to the halcyon days when the Doctor, Rose, and Jack were traveling together, given that it only actually lasted for a handful of episodes. Good times, though. I know Martha and Donna are supposed to be awesome Companions, and I'm sure I'll love them when I get that far in the show, but I've actually been resisting watching new episodes for the past week because I want to relish Rose's presence for as long as it lasts. And reading MASSIVE AMOUNTS OF FIC in the process. And also, I miss Jack (I know he'll come back, but not in the same way, and I want to get through all there is of DW before starting in on Torchwood, which, I gather, is extremely fandom-friendly but not actually all that great of a show). And Nine, though as I suspected, Ten is growing on me rapidly.
Okay, fair warning: rambling ahead.
I love falling in love with new fandoms. I'm starting to realize that fandom love is just as important, if not more so, than romantic love in my life. Actually, I respond to both in much the same way, but I fall head over heels for fandoms far more easily than people. Trust issues, I think -- it's not like I have to worry about whether or not a fandom will love me back, y'know? And being in love with a fandom makes me far happier than any romantic partner has ever made me -- which I suppose means there's something rather wrong with me, but given the state of my love life these days, I can't say I mind.
One thing I've come to understand, though -- I could never be with someone who didn't understand and accept my fannishness. I'm sick of trying to downplay my geekiness to make myself more attractive to people. I was on a date with a guy last weekend, and when he asked what I'd been doing lately and I mentioned offhand, "oh, I watched a couple of episodes of Doctor Who last night," he went off into a disbelieving rant about how bad that show was, how stupid, why was I wasting my time with stuff like that? That sort of thing. I don't mind a bit of good-natured teasing about my dorkiness -- actually, I love teasing, and I give as good as I get -- but he made me feel ashamed of being fannish. And why the fuck should I be ashamed about something that gives me pure, unadulterated delight, that makes me happy? It's not like I'm completely lacking in social skills or delusional, or like I spend all my time lurking in my basement waiting for the TARDIS to turn up and take me away. I just love this show, love reading the fanfic, love discussing it with like-minded fans. It's not my whole life, not by a long shot, but it brings me pleasure, stirs my imagination, provides me with an outlet for my creativity. Like Harry Potter used to, like Lord of the Rings used to, like countless other books or movies or TV shows doubtless will in years to come. Why is that somehow less acceptable than, say, my housemates' drive to get drunk in bars every weekend, or obsessing over a sports team?
One thing I sincerely miss about Dave (the guy I was with for all of college) was that he respected my fannishness -- hell, he was more than a bit fannish himself. We made fun of each other's respective geekdoms all the time, but always good-naturedly, and he understood that some nights, I needed to be left to myself to flail over some new fanfic, just like I willingly let him indulge in twelve-hour D&D fests with his high school buddies every now and then. Or, even better, when our fannish tastes overlapped, and we'd spend every night for a week watching episodes of House or the X-Files, or hours debating finer points of HP canon. Our relationship ended for a number of very good reasons -- not least of which being we'd fallen out of love with each other -- and I don't want him back. But I do now understand that I could never settle for anyone willing to give me less than that, and how rare people like that are in the world. I might never find someone I can fully be myself with again -- which doesn't mean I won't have flings or will never get laid or anything pithy like that. But falling in romantic love...well, I hope to have that again someday, but it feels less and less likely every day.
But you know what? I think I'll also be fine without it. Because I'm not without that element of sheer joy in my life. Not at all. Even if a silly television show can never love me back.
Okay, fair warning: rambling ahead.
I love falling in love with new fandoms. I'm starting to realize that fandom love is just as important, if not more so, than romantic love in my life. Actually, I respond to both in much the same way, but I fall head over heels for fandoms far more easily than people. Trust issues, I think -- it's not like I have to worry about whether or not a fandom will love me back, y'know? And being in love with a fandom makes me far happier than any romantic partner has ever made me -- which I suppose means there's something rather wrong with me, but given the state of my love life these days, I can't say I mind.
One thing I've come to understand, though -- I could never be with someone who didn't understand and accept my fannishness. I'm sick of trying to downplay my geekiness to make myself more attractive to people. I was on a date with a guy last weekend, and when he asked what I'd been doing lately and I mentioned offhand, "oh, I watched a couple of episodes of Doctor Who last night," he went off into a disbelieving rant about how bad that show was, how stupid, why was I wasting my time with stuff like that? That sort of thing. I don't mind a bit of good-natured teasing about my dorkiness -- actually, I love teasing, and I give as good as I get -- but he made me feel ashamed of being fannish. And why the fuck should I be ashamed about something that gives me pure, unadulterated delight, that makes me happy? It's not like I'm completely lacking in social skills or delusional, or like I spend all my time lurking in my basement waiting for the TARDIS to turn up and take me away. I just love this show, love reading the fanfic, love discussing it with like-minded fans. It's not my whole life, not by a long shot, but it brings me pleasure, stirs my imagination, provides me with an outlet for my creativity. Like Harry Potter used to, like Lord of the Rings used to, like countless other books or movies or TV shows doubtless will in years to come. Why is that somehow less acceptable than, say, my housemates' drive to get drunk in bars every weekend, or obsessing over a sports team?
One thing I sincerely miss about Dave (the guy I was with for all of college) was that he respected my fannishness -- hell, he was more than a bit fannish himself. We made fun of each other's respective geekdoms all the time, but always good-naturedly, and he understood that some nights, I needed to be left to myself to flail over some new fanfic, just like I willingly let him indulge in twelve-hour D&D fests with his high school buddies every now and then. Or, even better, when our fannish tastes overlapped, and we'd spend every night for a week watching episodes of House or the X-Files, or hours debating finer points of HP canon. Our relationship ended for a number of very good reasons -- not least of which being we'd fallen out of love with each other -- and I don't want him back. But I do now understand that I could never settle for anyone willing to give me less than that, and how rare people like that are in the world. I might never find someone I can fully be myself with again -- which doesn't mean I won't have flings or will never get laid or anything pithy like that. But falling in romantic love...well, I hope to have that again someday, but it feels less and less likely every day.
But you know what? I think I'll also be fine without it. Because I'm not without that element of sheer joy in my life. Not at all. Even if a silly television show can never love me back.