Some people could argue that I have absolutely no life. Now, if someone were to make such an outrageous claim, I would of course demand that he or she take it back, because I do in fact have a life. Believe me, I would know. How I choose to spend it is an entirely different matter, though.

I was talking with a friend online a few days ago, and we were laughing about how if someone had told me on sophomore year that I'll be spending the Friday nights of my last year of official childhood couped up at home, my only companions being my laptop and a memory stick named Severus, I'd have told them to go to the school nurse. (And just for the record: Yes, my memory stick is actually named Severus. Make fun on him and die a vicious death. My laptop is named Seamus. They're my best friends.) Two years ago, I was spending three nights a week in a way that... Ugh, I'm ashamed to remember what I was like. Stupid, stupid girl who moved from a restrained, overprotective society to suddenly having almost full freedom and friends who could get her anything she could ever want to try. Sigh. I can honestly say that I haven't grown up more during the course of any five years of my life than these two last. I moved to Finland a self-concious barely-teenaged girl with no idea how to behave in what felt like a new country, and a bad case of sexual confusion.Well, I'm still more or less confused, but at least I'm proud to say that in all other aspects of my life, I've somehow managed to find myself. I don't need to pretend that I'm someting that I very clearly am not; I don't need to drink a bottle of liquer to tell someone how I feel. Among other things. Actually, I'm quite proud of the person I've turned out to be, faults and all. Even the - several - faults that I have make me who I am, and I'm not sure I'd want to trade that for anything. I've finally realized that it really is true that before you can love someone else, you have to love yourself; and if someone doesn't love me for who I am... They're just not worth it.

What made me start thinking of this? I realized that I can actually tell apart some of my favourite authors - fan fiction and "real" authors - just by the way they write. My favorite authors of "real" literature are probably J. K. Rowling, of course, in addition to Dan Brown, Roald Dahl, Henning Mankell, and Astrid Lindgren. Favorite fan fiction authors include Vorabiza, Emma Grant, Jordan Grant, Sarah Rees Brennan, Zsanya, and Picca. I strongly recommend all of these authors - both fan fic and published authors - to anyone who appreciates a good read.

I'm at home, sick. I guess I should take advantage of this by reading ahead in Swedish or Bio, but quite frankly, I just want to sleep and listen to Antti Tuisku. No-life? Perhaps, but I'm happy.