I am now $4.99/month poorer, but I have the ability to block a certain phone number.
I am now minus one friend on Facebook, but I have the ability to breathe.
I have finally finished what Windsor Locks started.
And, damn, it feels good.
you definitely need a hand to hold
The best part of a new series of Doctor Who is the never-ending deluge of NewWho episodes in the days and nights leading up to the premiere. (Well, at any rate, it’s better than seeing a never-ending list of ST:TNG episodes in the TiVo menu.)
Tonight, we watched “Vincent and the Doctor”. (I’ve blogged about my love of this episode before.)
It’s kind of timely… for me at least. And here’s why:
Robin Wiliams committed suicide. It was all over the news. It sparked discussions about depression. Both good and bad.
Maybe you have to be clinically depressed/suicidal to understand why someone who seemingly had it all would kill themselves… but if you don’t, take a lesson from Eleven’s time with Van Gogh:
At the end of the episode, the Doctor brings Vincent to Paris in 2010 so that he can see the exhibit about his art. In front of Vincent, Eleven asks the curator his opinion on Van Gogh. The curator says, “To my mind, that strange, wild man who roamed the fields of Provence was not only the world’s greatest artist, but also one of the greatest men who ever lived.”
Think about that for a minute.
One hundred and twenty years after he kills himself, Van Gogh is brought to Paris to see a celebration of his art, hears that he is the world’s greatest artist, and it isn’t enough for him. He still kills himself when he is returned to his own time. He still kills himself, fully aware of what people think of his art, of HIM, a century later.
Did you catch that, internet?
All the love and admiration in the world, and it wasn’t enough to free Van Gogh of his demons.
So why should Robin Williams be any different, huh?
(And yes, I know the difference between fiction and real life, but in this case? Not such a big stretch.)
my first (ukrainian) dictionary
It’s a lot harder to find Ukrainian language lessons than you’d think.
EVERYONE and their mother will teach you Russian - and there are a large percentage of Ukies who speak Russian - but I think we can all agree that if I’m going to go through all the trouble of learning a new language (WITH A NEW ALPHABET!), I’m learning the right one.
Besides, the Russians - and their language - can go fuck themselves.
I did find a few places where I can learn Ukie, and I’m just waiting on final quotes from both of them.
That Friend (you know… THAT one) had finally watched the Harry Potter films a few months ago and he had some of the best comments on it ever.
Like this really tame one: “Smack my bum, Harry. SMACK IT”
SO. I was telling him about my little Drarry fan fic (and of course, he’s not into slash, so he called me a few choice names), and it’s his birthday at the end of the week…
I found the perfect card!
The front has a picture of a typewriter and says: “My novel (if I write one) will be filled with wizards, unicorns, tornadoes, a time machine, talking dragons, a rainbow made out of candy, ninjas, and dancing robots. And of course, you.<3"
Saw my drug dealer today. Every visit I have to fill out a self-evaluation form (Am I suicidal? Do I hear voices? Am I eating?) and on their random scoring system, I dropped 16 points. I guess that’s a good thing because she was all like “WOO” and I was all like “What the fuck?”
And on that note - it’s time to go pack for the land of Dirty (dirty, dirty!) Hippies.
he’s one damn fine human being…
In case you can’t read that:
Amberly: I need this retweeted by you to show my family that being gay isn’t always something you choose. They think I’m broken. Please. @Markgatiss
Mark Gatiss: Not a choice @Amberly29519238 - a gift. Be happy and strong. x
(For those not in the know, although I have no idea how you can not know this if you’re a regular reader, Mark Gatiss (pronounced GAY-tiss, BTW) is a co-creator and writer on my beloved Sherlock (BBC). He’s also written for Doctor Who. And… he’s married. To a dude.)
This isn’t the first time he’s done something like this, and I totally adore him because of it.
It almost offsets the Moffat factor. But not by too much, since he still lets Moffat write episodes of Sherlock. *sigh*
In a more serious note, my divorcing friend pissed me off the other day.
I’d finally had enough and snapped at them via text.
Told them that they seriously needed to figure out how to rewire themselves. This default position of wanting to give up and/or threatening suicide (it’s really one and the same, isn’t it?), is old, is tired, and is not fair to those of us that love them.
I mean, seriously, I’m starting to feel that it’s a cry for attention. At any rate, it’s fucking obnoxious.
And I know I shouldn’t feel that way, but it felt good to call them out on it.
I mean, me, of all people, saying something like that… to someone I feel is shattered beyond repair.
I’m an arsehole… I know that.
I haven’t heard from them since, and I’m (frighteningly) OK with that.
There has been too much drama, and despite my promises to tolerate it, and not walk away, I just can’t deal with it.
They wonder why they’re getting divorced…
If they could only read the texts they sent me from my point of view - or even their spouse’s - they’d see just what sort of damage they’re capable of inflicting and why we’re not willing to put up with it.
I offered to let them live with us because I felt like I was backed into a corner - suicide or a homeless shelter - and neither one is acceptable.
I shouldn’t have made the offer. Once things calmed down, it hit me hard what an amazingly terrible idea that is.
I can’t handle them from a distance… living with them has the potential to absolutely destroy me.
So now, I’m back where I started from - wanting to run as far as them as I possibly can, and needing to stay and support them as long as they make the right decision, of course.
Can’t stand by and support a dead person, can I?
In happier news, my boss absolutely loves me. He said as much yesterday.
I got my business cards. If that’s not a sign of permanence, I don’t know what is.
I got an official invite from the Department of Athletics to go to their monthly finance meeting. The other staff accountant didn’t, and he’s the one who is supposed to be working for them full time. I’m supposed to be working for the other building we manage, which is not affiliated with the University in any way, shape, or form.
It makes me wonder - especially since everything’s been so confused and fucked up because of the mess we were thrown into on day one - what my role actually is is. What I’m being groomed for. I have my ideas, of course, and they thrill me beyond belief.
I tell everyone who asks how much I love this job, and it’s the truth. I could not be happier. The universe certainly made up for fucking me over the past year.
I love it to the point that when BU played my employer last night. I was tempted to cheer for both teams. (I love both sets of boys - the school I was supposed to go to and the one that funds my paychecks.) Hockey East is getting more complicated…UConn, my employer, BU. Our neighbours in 114 are going to end up hating me next season. *grin*
And on that note, it’s time to look for a hack to my never ending external drive issue and get the power button on my MBP fixed.
Woo!!!! I am living it up today! Jealous?
this man is pure perfection, even at his dorkiest
What a crazy week.
It is hard to learn a new job when the person training you doesn’t know what they’re doing.
I don’t mean that in a ‘he’s stupid’ kind of way, but a ‘he walked into a completely fucked up situation that he was unprepared for and has no idea where to even start cleaning up the mess and oh my Dog, what the fuck do I do with this person sitting next to me chomping at the bit to do stuff?’ kind of way.
After three weeks, he’s made some major progress and I feel like I’ve learned enough to start doing stuff on my own. I spent all of Friday at my own desk working on the few things I know how to do. It was crappy data entry - two months of catch up for two different buildings - but it was GLORIOUS. I’ve never been so happy to just sit at a desk and endlessly type random crap like “0020-000-00” and “0037-002-00” a gazillion times.
Unlike the last jackwagon I worked for, he LOVES that I’m taking notes. Good notes. None of that “if you can’t understand this, you’re stupid” kind of shit.
I honestly do not know how I could possibly be any happier. (Outside of having this exact job in the UK, perhaps… but that’s not an option right now.)
Found out two good friends broke up last night. It breaks my heart.
Also spent the last two days texting with a friend who is getting a divorce. They’re not in a good place, and it’s not an exaggeration to say that I feel like I’m on suicide watch. I’ve been so careful with what I’ve been saying, but it’s exhausting to not let them have it with both barrels. I’m glad that - despite the amount I fell apart during my unemployment - I’m strong enough to be able to be here for them over the past two days. It hasn’t been easy and it kind of ruined my night out with Black Mountain Symphony last night, but that’s what friends do right?
However, it was an emotionally exhausting two days (so far - I’m currently being ignored again), and now I know why I internalise everything and don’t unload on friends.
Possibly related, my phone’s internal dictionary has decided to ignore the fact that it’s set to British English and seeing words spelt the American way is annoying. It’s starting to seriously fuck with my head.
I guess that’s a sign that my employer needs to move to England sooner rather than later…
I’ve decided to take the little bit of both the Johnlock and Marlas 30 Day OTP Challenges I’ve written and post them on AO3. I hate when people publish unfinished works, but after driving to both Worcester and Chester, VT this weekend, the voices in my head have told me it’s time to polish and post.
I’ve never been able to argue with the creativity-related voices in my head.