to make myself feel better (john’s jumpers joke not included)
yup. pretty much sums up me right now (by the way, he’s an adorable hedgehog, ain’t he?)
About two weeks ago, I said Yeah, so the decision I’ve been putting off was pretty much made for me today. Fuck.
I saw the writing on the wall. They were hiring an Assistant GM. The piles of work I had dried up. I hadn’t had a raise since 2010.
But, I foolishly believed it would be different. I gave them three years (probably 4 if you count all the overtime I put in), almost wound up in a psych ward because I was afraid to let them down, and kept the company together during some of the worse bullshit I’ve ever seen.
I’m so glad I started looking for a job a few weeks ago, I’m so glad they gave me a severance package, and I’m so glad to be the fuck out of there.
I haven’t been happy for a long time, but I stuck through the crap because I thought it would be worth it…
... and it wasn’t. It so totally wasn’t.
C’est la vie
Time to move on to bigger and better things.
red nose day! it’s a thing!
On the left is my current Facebook profile pic. (That’s important.) On the right is this year’s Red Nose Day David Tennant pic.
Let’s talk, shall we?
I’ve mentioned before (In a few places) that the opening credits of “Sherlock” make me a bit homesick. I can’t explain why, except for the fact that London always calls to me. It doesn’t matter how many times I want to go somewhere else, I wind up in London. It’s like home to me in many of the same ways that Boston is.
Suddenly the joke that I’m moving to London to open a platypus farm has not become a joke. (Well, the platypus farm is questionable, but the move is apparently going to happen.) This year’s theme seems to be that anything I put out into the universe is going to come back to me in spades. It’s kind of scary actually.
The one person I would have expected to talk me out of it is FOR it. Yeah. Instead of telling me how fucking insane that idea is, he’s all in.
What. The. Everloving. Fuck. Is. Going. On. Here.
Oh, yeah. We’re planning to move. TO LONDON.
I don’t have a time frame other than there’s some stuff I need to do in the States before this can become real, but that seems to be the path my life is taking.
I’m both excited, and scared shitless, but I’m going along for the ride.
It’s meant to be. Especially when weird ass coincidences like this one show up on Facebook:
M: L went to London on business Wednesday and brought noses home for all the kids… Love Red Nose Day!
M: Here he is with one of this year’s noses (there are three different dinosaur-themed ones this year - he is wearing T-Spex)
Me: That’s beautiful!
Me: Wait. Red Nose Day is a thing? I LOVE the UK!!
M: Oh yeah it is!!! It is Comic Relief - “Do Something Funny For Money” - March 15th is THE day this year, but there are also all sorts of events leading up to it. In the even years they do Sports Relief, where all the celebs do crazy physical challenges (David Walliams swimming the Thames or Eddie Izzard running 43 marathons in 52 days). But Red Nose/Comic Relief is in the odd years - one of my FAVORITE nights of television since moving to Europe!!! Here is the link to the trailer:
M: I think I like it even better though that you didn’t know it was a thing, and just liked having a picture of ten with a clown nose. And happened to put it up at exactly the right time of year…
Me: See? I am MEANT to move overseas!!! It’s a sign from a very cute Time Lord!!
Then, there was a conversation on FB about this becoming real, and Mark said how he and Wendy take an organic view of things - fling something out there and see if it sticks. (It worked in their case - they met online, got married, and now she’s in the UK with him.)
It should be no surprise to anyone that my new thing is *FLINGS STUFF*, because the more I put out into the universe, the more it’s going to come back to me. I’m going to be flinging stuff like a madwoman. Something will stick and we’ll be packing up our lives in the States. Eventually.
In other news, I’m going to Connecticon this summer with a girl I met through GISHWHES. I’m going to cosplay! I have no idea as to what Connecticon actually is, or who I’m going to dress up as, but hey! I’m only going to live once and well… FRIENDS is one of this year’s three words. After the way Team Fancypants bonded, K is definitely a friend.
Make new friends and toss the old… well, some of them. Others are worth keeping around.
lifted from The british teapot… used without permission… link to original above
John Watson had come into the library for a quiet afternoon of study. Third year of schooling, nearly done, he knew exactly how he liked to study— in a quiet room with no distractions, his nose in the book and away from all of his friends and teammates. He’s a sporty one, you know.
He even had his own spot, right near a window by the back closet, where the smell of old books lingered and people were rarely ever there. This time, however, John spotted a young man sitting at his table. Polite as ever, he only smiled and took seat beside him.
Unlike John, this young man wasnt polite at all. Sherlock Holmes had almost dismissed John until the male sat at his side. He immediately set about looking him over— short hair, so he must play sports. A hooded shirt, so he enjoys his comfort and probably has nothing to do for quite a while. A nice stack of books, so he’s in several classes and has a lot to study for— but no notebook and no pen, so he isn’t taking notes. He’s only reading. Sherlock smirks to himself and scoots his chair further away from John, garnering no attention.
So he scoots further once more. He’ll need the leg room.
“Sorry, am I in your way?” John asks as he lifts his head to the younger male across from him.
“Not at all.”
Sherlock waits until John returns his gaze to the text in his book — it’s time to strike.
In one swift move he swings his legs up onto the table and sets the heels of his feet on John’s books. “Sorry, am I in your way?” he taunts.
John merely grunts, but decides to ignore the invasive feet in his way. The long, crossed legs of Sherlock Holmes wouldn’t distract him. “Not at all,” John retorts as he reads whatever text he can. When he’s run out of words to read, he rests his cheek on his hand and closes his eyes.
Sherlock pauses, curious as to why his legs weren’t shoved away or why John hadn’t yet moved. His antics were tolerated, and to him, it was a surprise.
“You could have pushed my feet, you know.”
Five minutes pass and neither boy had made a move. Sherlock reaches across the table, snatches one of John’s books and opens it at the half-way mark, placing it on his face. He props it high enough so that he can peek down at John if he should decide to. He folds his hands in his lap and waits. They both wait. They’re waiting for the other to make a move and break this silent contest they have going on.
A silent friendship forms. The two sit like this for hours, at times glancing to one another and catching a look or a smile from the young man sitting opposite, but it’s nice. It’s warm and comforting and unlike any bond they’d ever formed. They have a connection, all at once, and it’s suddenly become a lingering joy.
The day ends with an exchange of names and an unspoken promise. Every Saturday at noon, for the rest of the school year, John Watson and Sherlock Holmes would meet at the back of the library to study.
And more often than not, it would end with a book on Sherlock’s head and feet on John’s book. One of these days, John will have enough of it and tip the curly-haired boy out of his chair, but that time has yet to come.
I’m normally totally confused as to whether or not I love Steven Moffat or hate him.
Today, I love him and want to make him cookies.
Also… THIS! THIS! THIS!
Dude, Martin must have moments where he’s totally terrified of the fandom.
Too perfect not to steal and log here for my viewing pleasure.