Confession of an English blogger

It’s finally happened: I’ve succumbed to ennui. Work has been especially shitty at the moment thanks to various staffing issues and I’ve been under an increased amount of pressure. It means when I’m not there the only thing I want to do is lie in bed doing fuck all. Even reading is hard these days. I try to get a chapter in before bed and my eyelids are drooping after 1 bloody paragraph. It’s making my ‘never close a book in the middle of a chapter’ really fucking hard to stick to. It also means the last thing I want to do after a busy day is find something to write about. I haven’t been able to keep up to date with the latest films and, understandably, it’s taking me so long to get through a book these days that I’m without topics for reviews. Thankfully I have an endless supply of things to rant about but no real energy with which to do it.

Take today for example. I was all geared up to talk about Star Wars. Or at least my thoughts regarding my colleagues reaction to the news that Carrie Fisher was forced to lose weight for Force Awakens. Upon hearing his “but she was really slight when she was younger” response I had to restrain my biological urge to rant so much that I nearly had an aneurysm. Yes, Leia was a fittie back in the day but people get older. Carrie Fisher hasn’t aged badly: she’s just fucking aged. It’s ridiculous that her very presence in the film came down to 35 fucking pounds of body weight.

The fact that this outrage came right after Germaine Greer tried to push feminism back several thousand steps thanks to her “trans women aren’t really women” bullshit just meant I was feeling extra girl power-y. However, I still couldn’t be bothered to sit down and type out a proper argument to why Hollywood standards for women is so fucking ridiculous. I’ve been so exhausted since I got home that I’ve done nothing of any value. I’ve pretty much been sitting around and feeling bad about not writing anything. It’s a vicious cycle.

I just have a very “I’ll get round to it eventually’ attitude right now. I can’t get excited for anything. Even Star Wars. I didn’t watch the latest trailer until a couple of days after its release and even then I only watched it a couple of times. This may not sound like a big deal but I played the second teaser trailer on repeat for about a month. Although that’s probably mostly because it was the best trailer out of the three. I mean it’s fucking brilliant.

It’s also partly because, after all this fucking time, I’m tired of waiting. It’s been such a long slog between the announcement to this point and I’ve spent so much time wading through all the naysaying comments that I’m done. I just want it to happen now. We’ve still got 2 fucking months to wait. I can’t do it. I can’t keep rewatching the trailer to pick up on every little detail. I just want to watch the film and see Gwendoline Christie as a Chrome Trooper. Is that too much at ask?

The aforementioned colleague proudly announced today that he and his girlfriend had tickets to the opening night whilst another coworker happily bragged that she’d been lining up at midnight to see it. To be honest, I didn’t give a shit. My days of being desperate to watch things first are long gone. As long as I can avoid any major spoilers than I’ll be a happy bunny. I’ve got better things to do than stand in line with people in cosplay on a cold December night, thank you very much. (Okay we’ve already established that I don’t but let me have this one.)

I guess I’m just passed my active crazy fangirl stage. I’d much rather passively celebrate the fandoms I’m part of. I’ll extoll the virtues of Harry Potter, Game of Thrones, Star Trek and the entire Marvel franchise as much as the next person as long as I didn’t need to get out of bed. Being a superfan just looks exhausting… and also dangerous. I’ve always been such an independent person that I quickly get tired of being around people for too long. I may sound super bitchy but I just like to be alone. My attention span is only getting shorter as I get older so I need to take a break from the things I love before I end up hating them.

I, like every other member of a fandom, get super obsessed with something when I first discover it. Inevitably I overwhelm myself. I get so consumed with something that I get sick of it. The way you feel when you listen to your favourite song on repeat for a week and end up never wanting to listen to it again. You may not be able to tell from this blog but I really loved Harry Potter when I was younger. I lapped up anything to do with it. Reread the books, rewatched the film, played the video games. I was a fucking huge fan.

Now you’ve all seen where that got me. I look back at Harry Potter now and it’s lost much of the magic that made it so important to me as a child. Even before I finished the series I’d gotten tired of it. Reading the final book, I had a sense that I was partly reading it just so it could be over; so I could move on. I’ll always be grateful to what JK Rowling did for me as a kid but I can’t view it through rose-tinted glasses anymore. The first books are really childish and, whilst the rest get better, Rowling will never be the greatest writer who ever lived. I can’t pretend that I think otherwise out of some nostalgic sense of loyalty. That’s because I did my Harry Potter phase. I’m done with it. Time to move on.

I don’t want to get like that with everything. I want to enjoy Force Awakens because I’ve always been 100% behind the project. I’m not so much of a traditionalist that I never thought it could work. It’s the same with this blog. Sometimes I just need my space. I’d love to be the kind of person who could always promise to post three or more things a week but that’s just never going to happen. I do this because I enjoy writing. I don’t really care if anyone reads this (but am always grateful if anyone does, of course!) because I create these things for myself. The more pressure I put on fitting into a schedule will make me resent it.

I guess what I’m trying to say, in a very rambly sort of way, is that I’m just a tired, commitment-phobe who’s afraid to love anything too much. Except Tom Hiddleston. I’ll never tire of that man and his face.

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