Fanatic

I need to start this post by putting out a disclaimer. I am not usually one of those fans of things who goes around trying to either become a character from their favourite novel. I've never knowingly stalked anyone (there may have been a few coincidences in bumping into people, or accidentally googling them; these do not count, because the people involved were not famous). I've never read fan fiction, either. For those not in the know, that's the sort of thing where someone who is in love with a book will write their own version of it, changing things a little to bring about a different outcome, or creating entirely new scenarios for future works. I knew it existed, of course I did. I am, after all, a bit of a nerd about these things. But only a bit of a nerd. Like I said, I'd never read the stuff before. Before, of course, let's slip that I've read some of it now. And it's all the fault of the office temp.

When I arrived at work on Monday, I found a note on my desk. Scrawled on it were the words, "You have to Google Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality.' It's FREAKIN AWESOME." (her caps). I'd heard her talking about various fan fic things before. Apparently in one version, Malfoy ends up with Hermione, which is what inspired her and her boyfriend to head along to the latest Harry movie dressed up as those characters. She's a big fan. But either way, I was a little wary. But it's been bucketing down so much this week and, in a moment of boredom at lunchtime, I checked it out. And now I'm hooked.

I'm sure it's just this particular version. And there are huge chunks of it that I just skim with my eyes slightly glazed; there's a whole lot of science in there. But it's like someone took Harry Potter and jumbled him up with Artemis Fowl, throwing in enough sci-fi and genuine science to get every nerd on the planet completely addicted. It turns out that a completely mad, despotic version of Harry, who is friends with Malfoy instead of Ron, and ends up in Ravenclaw, throws up a hugely entertaining novel (if you ignore the bits that go whizzing over your head). So I guess that means I'll be paying more attention to some of the suggestions made by the temp. But I don't care how good the fan fic is, I'm not dressing up. I've got to have some part of me that stays non-nerd. Or at least got to be able to pretend that. Yep, it's all about deniability. Harry Potter-Evans-Verres would understand, I'm sure.

Insomniac ramblings

Tonight I seem to be dining at the insomnia table. It's a full selection on offer; the eyes are heavy but the merest hint of movement snaps them back open again. The mind won't stop ticking over absolutely useless facts that are of no conceivable interest to anyone - including me, as it happens.

So here I am, stranded far from the land of nod and without any visible sign of transportation to take me there. What else is there for me to do but blog?

I'm sure my sleep exile is self inflicted. The worst insomnia usually is. Stress? Yeah, I've had it. Not this time though. This time, the self-inflicted bout of sleeplessness is caused by an overabundance of the stuff earlier today. I've been off work with a cold, nothing too serious admittedly, but enough that I slept until an unreasonable hour this morning. Slept so deeply that I was already hours late for work when I actually became conscious enough to let them know I wouldn't be in - and that in spite of setting my alarm to wake me around the time the phones start being answered by real people instead of machines.

And now, probably around twelve hours after I first woke up properly today, I'm perched here, desperately wanting to go to sleep, even yawning every so often, but unable to banish my brain from alertness. And as I'm mired here, I can't even retreat to my usual habits. I'm on L's laptop, my own being out of commission for the time being thanks to some incomprehensible technical glitch. Much like the one that won't let me sleep, it won't let any power reach the necessary elements of the computer. So I can't even use the time constructively. And here I am, running circles in the blogosphere, hoping to exhaust myself. Perhaps if I'm boring enough I'll put myself to sleep. I think I've had a fairly good shot at it here. Hoping I haven't cured insomnia in anyone other than myself. 

Not noteworthy, but needy

I'm still supposed to be doing study so, of course, I'm back cruising the internet. I wandered into the 'blogs of note' section of the blogger site. And it prompted me to ask something. I've been blogging, on and off (more on than off for the past six months or so) since 2006. Three years worth of my thoughts, observations and avoidance issues. And somehow, in all that time, I've never once been even considered, as far as I know, as being a blog of note. Sure, I have readers. there's three of you out there somewhere who come along and read my posts. Well, I know where two of you are but I'm assuming there's a third because there are more visits than can be accounted for by you two (you know who you are). So I get the odd visitor who reads my musings. I've even had a comment or two. Not many, sure, but comments. And I go out there and read other people's things. And what gets me is that those blogs of note? I'm certain some of them aren't as interesting as my collection of angry rants and random neuroses. 

Once, in a similar fit of boredom to what I'm having today, I read some blog advice pages. They suggested that you should have a theme to get people along to your site. I do have a theme. It's me, and all the crap that I think. I know it's crap, it's random, it's often poorly put together (this IS a blog people, it's more like a diary than a newspaper column after all), but it IS about me. All of it. Well, no, not all of it, obviously, there are are some parts which are about people I know. But I'm in there somewhere. That's my theme. 

So how do you do it? How do you get to become a blog of note? I want to be there, on that list of ordinary blogs. Surely 3 and a bit years ought to be enough time? I want my recognition and I want it now.

And if you were picturing a three year old face down on the floor banging fists and feet, you had a fairly close approximation to my state of mind. Apologies for the rant. I've been getting by on four hours of sleep for a week now and I'm not as young as I was when I used to keep this up for a month during my architecture studies. And even then I went slightly batty as a result. Or maybe it's the sugar coursing through my veins to keep me awake. Whatever it is, I'm sure all will be fixed once I finish this essay I'm writing and get back to regular sleeping and diet patterns. That and not feeling guilty every time I leave my desk.

Regular programming will resume shortly.