it’s all cumberbatch’s fault, really
I really do love how Sherlock’s pronunciation of John’s name has become wildly accepted. It pops up everywhere in the fandom. Even my fan fiction.
I’ve been sticking to trying to apply for 5-ish jobs a day, at a minimum, and the majority of those cannot be through recruiters. For every recruiter I apply to, I have two find two more positions. I’m aiming high and hoping for the middle. I guess it could be worse… Maybe some of these companies will see my resume and be all “OOOH! SHE’S PROBABLY CHEAP! LET’S BRING HER IN.”
It’s a nice fantasy. Right?
I’m currently taking advantage of being (temporarily?) less depressed than I have been by working on craft projects. I have some thank you cards I’m making as part of a wedding gift and I’m working on my Wonderful Wallaby. The cards are easy. The sweater? Not so much. I vented on Facebook that the company that wrote the pattern really sucks. The pattern really does suck, not because it’s hard to knit (it’s actually pretty enjoyable and I can see why they become pretty addictive), but because it’s written in a conversational fashion.
Instead of saying, “knit for a thousand rounds,” it says “So we went to the lake and had a wonderful summer. The kids love to swim and oh, by the way, go ahead and knit for a few rounds. We think it would look awesome if you made it really long… a thousand rounds should do.” OK. Maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but not by much.
Now imagine trying to join sleeves to a sweater body when the pattern is written so conversationally. Lots of Google. Print outs of drawings. Falling down the rabbit hole that is Ravelry… to finally have that blinding flash of the obvious and attaching those suckers to the body. Apparently, I’m not the only one frustrated by “After we got ice cream, we knit three stitches, then backed up and moved the six previous stitches to a holder. By the way, I had strawberry ice cream. It was good. Where was I? Oh yeah, then you want to knit all the stitches except the twelve you moved to the holders. Do you like ice cream, too? What’s your favorite flavor?”
Yeah, still an exaggeration, but still very close to the actual pattern wording.
It’s like manic me decided to write a knitting pattern.
Not even Simon Pegg will call the Cumberbabe by his real name…
What have we started?
spn actress alona tal shows the fans her death scene makeup at boscon
Let’s get this out of the way first: Pot, meet kettle.
I feel weird writing this, but I wanted to get it out of my head.
I was reading a Johnlock fan fic where the author’s note said: “This is my first Sherlock fan fic, not beta’d or brit-picked. I’m American, but I spent two weeks in London and I used to write Harry Potter fan fic, so I think my use of British spelling, words and phrases is spot-on.”
It honestly made me giggle.
If only because I found several really obvious errors.
The first person to admit I WANT my fan fic brit-picked before I post it online.
I’m never going to pretend I’m an expert on London. I’m never going to pretend that I’m an expert on British stuff in general. Even though - based on the author’s assertion that two weeks makes her an expert - I’m wicked knowledgeable because I’ve spent over a month in my favorite international city. (Over several years, but a month is a month, right?)
Yep. I’m going to take the MASSIVE amounts of all things London I’ve amassed and I’m going to start brit-picking other people’s fic.
Because leaning on Google, watching massive amounts of BBC America, whatever British movies I can find on Netflix, and watching Sherlock almost every single day (Shut up. It’s research!), gives me as much knowledge on all things British as someone who has lived there their entire life.
As Gordon Ramsey is so fond of saying, “Fuck me.”
Anyhoo - to get to my point…
I have a coffee mug I bought during one of my trips that features a portion of the London Underground map. I don’t use it often because I’m afraid of breaking it, but it came in handy the other day. As I was drinking my coffee, I looked at the mug instead of hopping on Google to figure out how to get from Baker Street to Covent Garden via the subway system. (Yes, I know they almost always take a cab, but was for a case, and a resource is a resource. I double checked it against Google and then deleted the scene. That’s how I roll. An hour of research and then it gets chucked in the bin.)
I have noticed that I’m starting to use British phrases and words now. I’m a little concerned because it makes me feel like a bit of a poseur. (Does anyone even use that word anymore?!) But I’m learning as much as I can to make it authentic and it’s going to happen. Just like picking up the Boston accent again. (I suppose they *could* do a case in Boston, but it doesn’t feel right.)
I can’t stay on track this morning. HA! Get it? Train tracks. I promise. I will get there. Eventually.
(Unrelated (Possibly related?): I’m a little manic this morning. You can almost always tell in my writing because I get all parenthetical. (Like this).)
Where was I? Oh yeah, making fun of the British ‘expert’.
As I was looking at the Piccadilly Line on the Tube map, it dawned on me that in all my travels in London, I’ve never once heard it called the “Blue Line”. (Of course, according to the Tube’s website, it looks like there are THREE blue lines.) Also, it’s the “Tube”. Not a subway. Not a trolley.
Here in Boston - another subway system that I have a vast knowledge of because of my frequent trips up and down the Green Line - we call our version the “T”. I’m assuming that it comes from the name: The Massachusetts Bay TRANSIT Authority. (It used to be known as the MTA. I’m not sure where or when the B was added and I’m too lazy to look it up.) Older generations have called it a trolley, but I haven’t heard that in years. Possibly, most of that generation is gone by now and it didn’t stick.
Also, in case you didn’t notice, I called it the “Green Line.” (The only trains that are named are the commuter rails and those are named by termination point: Newburyport, Haverhill, etc.) To further confuse things, there are a B train, a C train, a D train and an E train on the Green Line. You want to go to Boston University? You take the B train. You want to go to the Pru? You take the E (Take any train to Copley). You want to get back to North Station? Any train will do. You want to get to Harvard Square in Cambridge from the commuter rail? You get off at North Station, hop on any of the Green Line trains, go to Park Street, and change to the Red Line. There you have a choice of Alewife, Mattapan or Braintree. (You want to go to Alewife, BTW.) The Aquarium? Take the Green Line to Gov’mnt Center, change to the Blue Line. (Thankfully, the Blue Line doesn’t split. Neither does the Orange Line.) Like most trains, too, there’s an inbound and an outbound. You can almost always tell the tourists - and those of use who get lost frequently (it’s a skill!) - because they go the wrong way when left to their own devices.
I’d like to point out here, in case it isn’t obvious, that my knowledge of the T is way more extensive than my knowledge of the Tube. Maybe because I’ve spent YEARS riding up and down the Green Line? I’m not going to pretend that I know the Tube inside and out after a month in London (spread out, again, over several years) when I spent the majority of that time on foot.
So… to recap: two weeks doesn’t make you an expert. Writing Harry Potter fan fic for years doesn’t make you an expert. The only thing that makes you an expert is time and experience.
And I have neither.
two of my favorite things: animaniacs and sherlock
Still not a huge fan of Star Trek, but damn that was an enjoyable couple of hours.
Seriously, anything with Quinto? Simon Pegg? My new crush Chris Pine? AND the Cumbercutie?
I may or may not have broken two of J’s fingers when I first heard that voice. If I hadn’t, I definitely did towards the end. Evil Cumberbatch is HOT. HOT. HOT. HOT. HOT.
I also may or may not have made J listen to “Cabin Pressure” for the whole whopping twenty minutes we were in the car. He may or may not have laughed. Actually, he lost it when I played him the opening of the Christmas episode.
Which I will now share with you since I’m in such a damn good mood:
Why am I in such a good mood you ask?
I just got an email from one of the companies I applied to on Friday. It took me forever to change my resume around, write the cover letter and research the company. FOREVER. But obviously, it paid off. It seems like it would be a good job… at the minimum my whacked out liberal ideals would be appreciated for a change. Plus, they might be able to use my marketing background as well.
The thing that bothers me - and this is minor, even though it’s not going to sound like it - is that this is the second company I’ve applied to that has sent me an interview type email. Thanks for applying. Hey! While we have your attention, here’s twenty questions we’d like you to answer. It’s ridiculous. On top of the time it takes me to actually prepare my application, now I have to go back and spend hours answering questions via email. It’s not like you can just fire off an email in response - these are GOOD interview questions and it’s hard to answer them in the right tone over email. How do you not sound desperate when you tell them your salary range is negotiable, but you’re looking to make $X? At least in person, you can gauge the reaction…
And when did it become OK to make THAT one of the screening questions?
If I ask it in the first interview, I’m rude. Unprofessional. So I have to go through the whole process blind - getting my hopes built up until I find that I can’t afford to take the position - but it’s OK to be written off in the first interview question?
Maybe I should dump my drug dealer and go back to having my brain shrunk. I might be able to qualify for SSDI, and THAT would actually pay me better than unemployment (which, of course, I may not even be eligible for).
I hate this.
I hate feeling powerless.
I hate feeling like a drain on J.
I hate feeling bad that I just spent $18 to drool over a guy in a theatre when I can watch all the stuff saved on the TiVo or the Sherlock DVDs again and again for free.
I just want a real job interview. In person. Where I may actually have a fighting chance
Here’s a Sherlock/Cabin Pressure mashup to make me giggle…
we need to talk about kevin
For the record, I’m bored.
Also for the record, I am crazy.
Also, also for the record, I an neither bored nor crazy enough to look for weird shit on FFNet.
Except, that’s a game of two truths and a lie right there.
Not only do people write fan fic for a RADIO SHOW, they ship Martin/Arthur.
Now, I have this image of Benedict Cumberbatch (Martin) getting it on with Richard Hammond (that’s who Arthur reminds me of).
I think I need to go bleach my brain or something.