| Confessions of a Layabout Lurker |
[Mar. 5th, 2006|09:49 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  apathetic | ] |
| [ | music |
| | The sound of my brain going bye byes | ] |
Also posted on DeviantART because I'm greedy.
Something I wrote when I realised that characterisation is hard. So I decided to write something where the characterisation couldn't go wrong.
Confessions of a Layabout Lurker
It was a Sunday night, almost 9 O’clock. On most Sunday nights she would have been worried that she had so much homework left undone, but fortunately the following Monday was Labor Day which left her extra time for procrastination. The electric glow of the computer screen slipped in through her eyeballs and inspired a small headache at the top of her brain, yet still she clicked through the links, desperately hoping to encounter something mildly entertaining that would help her avoid going to bed, doing her homework, trying to communicate with fellow human beings or trying to write another chapter of her neglected fanfic. She had considered trying to rub her forehead onto the computer screen while Microsoft Word was open, in some hope that her subconscious brainwaves might skip through and arrange themselves into the form of a truly ground breaking, heart touching story that would unlock her creative ability and turn her into the Shakespeare of fandom related writings; but she was worried that she might give her computer screen acne.
First she tried DeviantART; she looked up at her message bar, it read as follows; 171 deviantWATCH deviations, 88 hot topics, 17 new messages, 92 journal entries and 11 notes. She shrugged; she’d check them in the morning when she was feeling perkier. She typed something into the DeviantART search engine that would be considered gibberish to most people, and seen as truly obscene by members of certain fandoms, before scrolling through 707 274 images of exotic males doing depraved things to one another in pieces of art that managed to tip-toe around the gaze of policy enforcing moderators.
After an hour or five of trying to work out whose limb belongs to who, she decided that she had milked DeviantART for all it was worth for one day, and moved onto Livejournal instead. She took a moment to check her own journal (last updated several Neptunian seasons ago, the last entry consisting solely of the words “Cheeseballs are nice”) to see if any of her antiquated entries had been commented on, they hadn’t.
Feeling only slightly disheartened she looked through the fanfiction communities where prolific, skilled and highly creative authors had weaved their own threads into the world of canon that had miraculously filled up all the plot holes, expanded all the characters, relieved all the sexual tension and brought a richness and fulfillment to the fictional universe in places it was previously lacking. She looked at the multitude of black text it had taken the author less than an hour to write and promptly skipped straight to the comments. After seething in her jealously, bitterness and resentment she decided to spite the author by not reading the story.
Quickly skipping over to a few icon communities she saved every icon with a shiny effect, neon writing or possible sexual activity in its 100x100 frame onto her computer for further scrutiny before shutting down the machine and heading off to bed with the remaining half of a block of chocolate she had scoffed that morning while watching Playschool when no other form of entertain was available. |
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| Comments: |
Of course, if she'd just gotten on to Messenger, she could have talked about mindless nothings for hours . . . .
*glompsnuggle* :P
But that would have brought her happiness and social fufillment and halted her downwards spiral towards becoming a slovenly, braindead husk of a human-being, and we can't have that.
*cuddles* icon love :D
Would that still be a bad thing? *puppy eyes*
Person love. :P | |
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