Don't worry about me, I look exquisite in everything I wear.
I know, I know, I never write, I never visit. I am an appallingly bad f-lister. I have just got back from a week in London where I have been thoroughly chastised for this behaviour, and so, here I am. Posting for the first time in years on a non-paid account, without my wealth of pretty icons, which is admittedly very weird. I don't like this being a poor non-paying user. It makes me feel less worthy.
So, London. Was amazing. Seeing Gillian Anderson (and, to a much lesser but still noteworthy extent, Christopher Eccleston) live on stage was just incredible. Combined with the fact that the theatre was so tiny and intimate, and A Doll's House in itself was a wonderful play, the type I could write essay upon essay about, I would pretty much call it a religious experience. Certainly a spiritual one. I could have stayed there forever.
And, my fangirls. Oh f-list, let me tell you about my fangirls (if you are one of my fangirls, let me tell you about you). I love my friends. Truly adore them. Also, in what I guess is half the point of friendship in a perverse way, I like me so much better when I am with them. I am relaxed, I don't care (much) about the stone I've put on recently, I laugh so hard everything hurts, I comment on whatever I like without being judged or considered weird or 'sad', I am touchy-feely with everyone, I get cuddles whenever I want them. I am understood and I am free. I am lucky to have that sort of friendship, and I miss each and every one of you already.
My sadface at coming home was made much better by opening the front door to the sound of "That sounds like my Sammy!" coming from Joey. Although he did then seem more interested about asking me what my keys opened rather than hugging me, it was a nice homecoming all the same. And so back to non-fandom life* once again. Until October, anyway. :P
*I have decided from here on I shall not refer to it as 'real life'. Real life is where you are supposed to be. I am clearly made for flailing, not this working-for-a-living nonsense.
So, London. Was amazing. Seeing Gillian Anderson (and, to a much lesser but still noteworthy extent, Christopher Eccleston) live on stage was just incredible. Combined with the fact that the theatre was so tiny and intimate, and A Doll's House in itself was a wonderful play, the type I could write essay upon essay about, I would pretty much call it a religious experience. Certainly a spiritual one. I could have stayed there forever.
And, my fangirls. Oh f-list, let me tell you about my fangirls (if you are one of my fangirls, let me tell you about you). I love my friends. Truly adore them. Also, in what I guess is half the point of friendship in a perverse way, I like me so much better when I am with them. I am relaxed, I don't care (much) about the stone I've put on recently, I laugh so hard everything hurts, I comment on whatever I like without being judged or considered weird or 'sad', I am touchy-feely with everyone, I get cuddles whenever I want them. I am understood and I am free. I am lucky to have that sort of friendship, and I miss each and every one of you already.
My sadface at coming home was made much better by opening the front door to the sound of "That sounds like my Sammy!" coming from Joey. Although he did then seem more interested about asking me what my keys opened rather than hugging me, it was a nice homecoming all the same. And so back to non-fandom life* once again. Until October, anyway. :P
*I have decided from here on I shall not refer to it as 'real life'. Real life is where you are supposed to be. I am clearly made for flailing, not this working-for-a-living nonsense.