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"
Abso-fucking-lutely brilliant.
——
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.
I can finally, honestly, say I’ve had my first few shitty days at work.
Compounded by Teh Drama of the Suicidal One. (Not bad, but his mom’s involved now and it’s weird having this relationship with her considering I’ve only met her once in the 20+ years we’ve been in each other’s lives.)
I’m tired.
I’m burned out.
I’m done.
I need a weekend to sleep, and instead I’m going to Woodstock on Saturday.
Apparently, I need a Black Mountain Symphony fix (with a side of dirty hippies and ‘shroom dealers) more than I need rest.
——
My back up drive is still causing problems. I think I know why it won’t mount now - it appears to be a power issue. If I unplug and replug it a gazillion times, it will finally work. I’ve got to pull all my data off of it and then it’s going back. I can’t deal with this shit and I shouldn’t have to.
——
I’ve been trying not to think about this, but I can’t help it.
Tomorrow is the one year anniversary of the day I got laid off.
(I know, I’m employed now, so why should it matter? Well, it does.)
I sucked it up for three years. Three long, hellish years where I gave up too much of myself.
I mean, I worked on my fucking BIRTHDAY despite taking it off. On that same long weekend, I went in on Sunday. (Happy fucking birthday to me, right?)
I had this blind, stupid, hope that everything would work out, and I’d get rewarded for fighting through all the shit I had to deal with. (Details for me to know and you to… well guess, I guess.)
Hope is a motherfucking bitch.
Instead of a raise, a bonus, extra time off and all the other carrots they promised me and failed to deliver on, I was let go.
I realised the other day that I DID get my reward.
If they hadn’t let me go (and subsequently closed the doors for good - kinda. It’s complicated.), I wouldn’t have bounced around for a year trying to find my perfect job.
Which means I probably wouldn’t have wound up at my current job.
So - I did get my carrot, after all.
It just came in the form of a great job with a great company that has a great future… and wasn’t them.
——
I want to find David Arnold and Michael Price and hug the shit out of them.
Their Sherlock soundtracks are amazing.
They’re perfect. Beautiful and moving. Powerful. Whimsical. Just really fucking awesome.
Sherlock’s music is perfect for work. It’s stimulating enough to keep me comfortably distracted but fades into the background well enough so it’s not all I pay attention to.
——
I’m still stuck in the Dark Ages of pop music and just discovered “I Will Follow You Into The Dark” by Death Cab for Cutie.
For whatever reason, I always picture vacancy signs with huge noses when I hear the line: “Illuminate the NOs on their vacancy signs.” I get where they’re going with that imagery, but I like my version better.
I needed to get out of my head a little bit, so I went to tumblr for some fun and giggles.
... and quite possibly, some Hiddles.
There was way less fangirling over Hiddles’ appearance on Top Gear than I expected, and more angsty bullshit than I wanted.
*sigh*
——
Also, I just realised that all of my research for all of my fan fic is on that damn laptop. And when I say ALL of my research, I mean ALL of my research.
Gee, I hope they don’t look in the folder named “How to take it up the ass like the bitch you are.”
(Just kidding… I don’t have a folder by that name, but wouldn’t it be awesome if I did?)
But seriously, I don’t know if that would be more disturbing than the amount of information I have on blood spatters / pictures of crime scenes / different theories on how to dispose of a body / real life serial killers. That information is, however, in a very clearly labelled folder called “Murder Ideas”. Sitting on my desktop. Right next to the folder labelled “UK Move”.
Yep, murder ideas and extensive notes on how to leave the country.
If you don’t hear from me in a few days, it’s because my laptop’s been confiscated and I’m in jail.
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.
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.
