Anyway, the meme: Comment here and I will pick 7 of your interests. You explain what they are/why you like them in your journal.
naamah_darling asked me about these:
Angst - My favourite genre. If somebody isn't angsting over something, I get bored fast. Makes good drama in fiction, but less fun in real life.
Introspection - Just sitting and thinking. Considering how much time I spend alone and how little I talk to anyone, I'd die of boredom if I didn't like thinking. It's how I relax. Sometimes I think about stuff going on in my life (not much), mostly I daydream. I get tons of fic ideas from doing this, but never manage to write anything. Still haven't worked out why that is.
Forbidden love - A subgenre of angst. I love it when characters' emotions totally screw with them in horrible situations. Unless it gets sappy. Then I gag and stop reading/watching/whatever.
Phantom of the Opera - I loathe most musicals, but this one gets to me. I think it's all the angst and tragedy (another favourite genre). The Phantom is one my favourite tragic characters. I first saw this when I was seven, and have always been fascinated with the poor Phantom. And I like the music.
Vitriolic ranting - I wish I could do this. Trouble is, I can't maintain my rage while carefully composing a viscious rant, and don't get enough catharsis out of it. So I rant inarticulately inside my head instead, and read other people's rants for entertainment.
Old Blind Dogs - A Scottish folk band I'm fond of. Very lively music, some very morbid songs (there's one about dying of syphilis). Don't know if they're still together. They did a small concert at pub not far from where I lived when I was nine, which was when I first heard of them. Didn't go see them, due to being a tad underage.
Horror - Yet another favourite genre. I love horror movies! The gorier and grimmer the better. I can remember when my liking for it started. In kindergarten I carpooled with some neighbours who had some horror story on tape that we'd listen to on the way home. When I got home I'd have to go to the basement for some reason, and I'd keep thinking about the monster in the story, scare myself, and run back upstairs in terror. And the next day I'd be dying to hear the story again, even though I knew it would scare me.