bipolar

the setlock pictures kill me

The girl who thought Kate Spade was a person and not a brand knows:

John wears jumpers that Martin Freeman picks out.

Moriarty wears Westwood.

Sherlock wears Spencer Hart suits, Dolce and Gabbana shirts, and that coat? That amazing, wonderful, coat? A Belstaff.

——

Applied for a UK accounting job. 99.9999999% sure I’m not qualified, but maybe the recruiter might find something I’m a fit for.

I have a job interview on Tuesday, and I’m meeting with Jimmy The Pimp’s boss on Monday.

I don’t even care any more… I don’t want to be unemployed, but I am so done with looking for work.

——

Aaaaand, since someone asked:

The most adorable lisp. EVER. (Once it’s been pointed out that he lisps when he’s tired, or animated, or that he flat out struggles with ‘sp’ sounds, you can’t help but notice it. After repeated viewings. Of course. What? It’s research. For science, Jawn!)

 

——

I’ve taken to walking on the furniture. I do not know why, but when I do, I yell, “THE FLOOR IS LAVA, JAWN!” (Original image here.)

The neighbors must think I’m out of my fucking mind.

I think they’re right.

mmm… david ten-inch

Woke up ass early today.

Managed to get out of bed.

Introduced the most adorable lisp in the world to my CP fan fic.

Screamed at the computer when my blog, Firefox, Safari and then my internet connection all fell to shit. Then, while trying to apply for a job (using their handy “apply now!” bullshit), the web site kept bouncing me back to the log in screen.

*sigh*

I’ve had two recruiters reach out to me today. Both left messages. Neither has called me back.

Jimmy the Pimp - my most favourite recruiter in the world - isn’t working for that company any more. I sent a break-up email because I hadn’t heard from him in four days, and that’s really unusual for us. (I know it’s me - you can’t place me because I’m pathetic sort of thing), and his boss called me. HIS BOSS. To apologize for not reaching out to me on Friday, Monday, or Tuesday.

Also - almost wrote a cover letter to an international company that began:
Why do I want to work for you? That’s easy. I want to get the fuck out of the US and move to the UK. This isn’t a snap decision - you can see this desire in my journals and it goes all the way back to my first visit to London in 1992. Please, please, please, hire me and then immediately transfer me. I. WILL. CLEAN. TOILETS. FOR. A. TIER. TWO. VISA. NO. LIE.

Decided to delete it and go the grown up route.

I do have a lead on an international recruiter that’s advertising for a job locally… I’ll probably call him in a bit and just see what there is to see.

I have an interview tomorrow that I’m trying to get excited about, but I just can’t… I’m tired of getting my hopes up to just be let go because “it’s just not working out.”

I dunno…

(This appears to be a regular daily update type series thing for those of you who have expressed concern about my mental state. It is much appreciated, but I’m fine. Honest. Just a little blue. Like a smurf.)

wholock!

I got out of bed this morning.

WILLINGLY.

An hour and a half earlier than my norm.

Suck on THAT, depression.

My Cabin Pressure fan fic is almost done. A true trilogy. With a decent non-Whedonesque ending.

I watched a cheesy horror fic today that was so forgettable I’d forgotten I watched it. When the big twist ending was revealed, I was like, “Oh, yeah. I’ve already seen it.” *sigh*

My favorite recruiter is blowing me off. Awesome. Just. Freaking. Awesome.  I can only guess that his co-workers don’t want to place me in any of their positions. Be nice if he’d just tell me…

On the other hand, I have an interview on Thursday. I refuse to get excited about it.

Knitting tonight - my girls are always good for making me feel better.

So… see? I’m fine. I survived last night. I’m thriving today.

Life will go on… and I’ll be here for every second of it.

i am thankful this fine looking man exists

I talk a lot about how I’m not suicidal, how I’ve made it past that point in my life…

but that doesn’t mean I don’t allow myself to think about it from time to time.

Let me clarify before you start dialing 911, OK?

I don’t think about suicide in concrete ways: I need to write a note, I need to decide on a method, I need to blah blah blah…

I do, however, slip into thinking about how much better my life would be if I wasn’t here to live it.

Keep your hands away from the phone.

I’m not done yet.

I made myself promise (a looooong time ago, after my dad told me he’d kill me if I killed myself) that if I ever started to think that dying would be the best way out of my current situation I would think of two reasons to stay around for every one reason to leave. That two to one ratio is a BITCH.

Not that I have to find two good things, but that I have to think of bad things.

It’s been flawless so far.

Seriously.

Today’s bad thing was that I’m the reason we’re not going to have any savings. If I’m gone, J gets my (rather generous) life insurance proceeds. Money problems solved.

Today’s corresponding good things: I would miss Guinness barking in his sleep and I would miss the simple joy of seeing Mr. Cumberbatch’s face.

Yeah, they’re kind of stupid, but it can’t be the same thing all the time. The good things take some serious thought. The bad things are easy.

I’m in a very, very bad place right now.

But I’m OK.

Really.

I’ll get through this. I always do.

Guinness is barking in his sleep as I type this, and I’m really glad I’m here to hear it.

Life isn’t meant to be easy 100% of the time.

Life isn’t mean to be fun 100% of the time.

But I’m meant to be here 100% of the time, for whatever time I have left… and I don’t plan on leaving early.

Besides, I’m really fucking curious to see what good things I have to come up with tomorrow when I can’t get out of bed.

Assuming, of course, that I struggle to get out of bed tomorrow…

Right now, the Cabin Pressure fic is behaving itself, so I’m really into working on it.

Right now, I’ve had another person favorite “It Was Always There”.

Right now, I’m curious as to whether or not my elbow (tendonitis? pinched nerve? The Dr. wasn’t sure.) will finally heal.

Right now, I’m curious to see if Guinness can actually start and stop if I try to do a Couch to 5K workout with him.

Right now, I’m looking forward to getting out of bed tomorrow and watching a new episode of Master Chef UK while I get ready for the day.

Right now, I know I’m going to be A-OK.

And that’s really all that matters.

the ninth doctor is definitely underrated

I had two different friends message me today.

One told me that if I didn’t shut up about the bipolar and the obsession with moving to the UK, I’d never find another job in the States because a) I’m crazy and b) it’s obvious I’m not going to stay there long.

One told me that we should start our own company and that I could run the UK branch.

Well… let’s look at this realistically.

I can’t do anything about the bipolar. I really can’t. It’s there. It’s being treated. I do the best I can with it.

As for the move, well, I can try and do something about that, but the pessimistic part of me knows it will never happen.

Because. Really.

Let’s pack up an entire house, two people, two dogs, and a cat.

Let’s try to sell a house in a neighborhood full of foreclosures.

Let’s find a job without being able to do in-person interviews.

The list goes on.

The optimistic part of me assumes we’re going to be there by the end of 2014.

Of course, now that Sherlock has been rumoured to start on Halloween, I’d love to be there by then. I’m not sure if I can pull it off, but it’s worth a try. *grin*

Part of me is terrified about making this change. I mean, I’m moving across the fucking ocean! That’s huge.

Part of me is raring to go. It’s time for a new adventure. A new life.

I don’t know how that will affect me working (killing time) at another job in the States… I can’t say anything about it, because I simply don’t know.

The goal is to find a job with an international company and use that as a stepping stone. But if I can’t, I can’t.

In the meantime, I’m just going to keep throwing my resume out there and wonder what it’s going to take for me to find a place I can stay for longer than a month.