Tuesday, December 31, 2013

Obligatory NYE post

Last year, my #threewords were self, create, and family.

I think I did well -

SELF: despite being unemployed for most of the year, and dealing with a serious, debilitating, case of depression, there were days when I was able to pull myself out of it and function.

There were also days when I excelled at being a functional human, despite The Ick.

This was probably the worst bipolar / depression episode I’ve ever had, if only because of the length of time it lasted. 

But I survived it, no matter how hard it was to remember that depression lies.

CREATE: I published four pieces of fan fic on AO3. While I’m not a superstar, I’ve gotten some kudos, some nice comments, and a proofreader out of it. If I grow some balls, I might even have a brit-picker.

And I’m still writing - I have a Cabin Pressure 30 Day OTP Challenge I’m struggling with, the NaNoWriMo Case Fic / Johnlock disaster that really needs some serious editing, the Sherlock 30 Day OTP Challenge I started as a warm up to NaNo, and I’ve got an idea for another Johnlock fic that I toyed with a long time ago. It never came to fruition because I didn’t know the best way to handle it. After reading a similar Cabin Pressure fic, everything clicked and I can see that those first two pages have a lot of promise.

I didn’t do nearly as much photography as I wanted to, and I never learned how to sew, but I think the amount I wrote more than makes up for it. I also got some quality knitting done, so all things considered, “create” was probably my most successful word.

FAMILY: I spent a lot of time with my Albany family and managed to expand it. I knit a sweater for L. I managed to create/strengthen relationships with high school and college friends that previously didn’t exist in anything similar to their current form. I let go of close friends that I considered family when their behavior turned toxic.

... and finally, oddly, I managed to piss off a member of my family with my deeply rooted belief that I am Polish. Only the National Archives in Warsaw know for sure… but I’m still holding out hope.

This year, I’m not sure what my three words should be. I have a rough idea, but I don’t know if these three are final yet.

I came up with the lame “happy/happiness” for the first one. (At least I think it’s lame - the word, not the idea behind it.)  I want to focus on doing more things that make me happy. Whether that’s to write more, spend more time with my family, get my ass to London at least for a visit, stay at the new job, continue to embrace the SuperWhoLock family and the friends I made there, I just want to do the stupid little things that make me happy. I spent too much of 2013 feeling like a victim, “suffering” from the bipolar and really letting it define who I was. That’s not really something I’m proud of - and while the bipolar is something I’ll always have to deal with - I handled it poorly this year, despite my few victories.

The second one would have to be “travel”. I want to visit far away places this year (London, obviously), but there are places closer to home to see as well. I really want to play tour guide when my friend from Cincy finally gets her ass to the East Coast, and sometimes there’s nothing better than being a tourist in your own town. I’d like to spend more time with Black Mountain Symphony. I’d like to spend more time in Connecticut with my friends and family there.

I think the third one has to be “J”. This year has been super rough on both of us, and I know I’ve taken advantage of his kindness and patience several hundred thousand times.  Part of me couldn’t help it (unfortunately, the depression really forced him to step up and be a grown up which I hated), and part of me just watched as he did things that I was going to do later that day, and part of me tried to make up for it in stupid little ways that aren’t nearly enough. He’s been my rock through everything that’s happened since January 1998 and I can’t imagine my life without him, so it’s probably time that I let him know that I’m sorry for 2013 and 2014 will be a better year for us. My biggest fear is that I’ll lose him. There’s only so much crap I can put him through before he gets fed up, right? Shit, I hated myself for most of this year. I don’t know how or why he’s still around… I would have left me a long time ago.

No - there hasn’t been any sign of things going that bad between us, but it’s a very real fear that’s taken root lately. He really is the Hubby of Wonder because I wonder every day why he’s still here.

These kind of overlap with last year’s, but I’m OK with that.

Happy end of 2013, everyone… may 2014 give you everything your heart desires.

Sunday, December 29, 2013

Deconstructing Baskerville (BBC Sherlock)

Watched “Baskerville” last night.

I’ve brought up how Sherlock essentially grows through the six episodes of series one and two, and Baskerville is a great example of that.

He really pisses John off / hurts his feelings when he tells John that he doesn’t have friends. After realising what he did, he tells John that he doesn’t have friends. He’s just got one. The old Sherlock (series one) wouldn’t have paid attention to John’s reaction, wouldn’t have cared. In Baskerville, while freaking out about the hound, he also says the line that, more than anything, sets up the dramatic events in “Reichenbach”:

I’ve always been able to keep myself distant. Divorce myself from feelings. But you see? Body’s betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions. The grease on the lenses. The fly in the ointment.

That line is made all the more poignant when John accuses him of being a machine right before the face off with Moriarty on the roof of Bart’s:

Sherlock: What is it?
Watson: Paramedics. Mrs. Hudson’s been shot.
Sherlock: What. How.
Watson: Probably one of the killers you managed to attract. Jesus. Jesus. She’s dying. Sherlock, let’s go.
Sherlock: You go, I’m busy.
Watson: Busy?
Sherlock: Thinking. I need to think.
Watson: You need to— Doesn’t she mean anything to you? You once half-killed a man because he laid a finger on her.
Sherlock: She’s my landlady.
Watson: She’s dying you machine! Sod this. Sod this, you stay here if you want. On your own.
Sherlock: Alone is what I have. Alone protects me.
Watson: No. Friends protect people.

In the end, when it really matters (or is too late to matter, depending), John finally calls Sherlock his ‘friend’. This is significant, because in BBC canon, that’s the first time he does. That’s before he learns that Sherlock jumped to save him from a sniper’s bullet. The scene takes on a life of its own when you see Sherlock in the cemetery watching John grieve over an empty grave. He protected John because John’s his friend.

Emotion

The feels.

It’s stuff like that makes it easy to ship Johnlock, whether it’s in a brOTP or in PWP: the man that doesn’t show emotion gives in, becomes human, because of a person who is everything he isn’t. Despite everything Sherlock has put him through, he is loyal to the end. The very, bitter, end. 

Just like the RAMC motto: In Arduus Fidelis (Faithful in Adversity)

#IBelieveinSherlockHolmes

Saturday, December 28, 2013

For fan fic, Jawn!

If one is writing a prompt titled “gazing into each other’s eyes” one better make damn sure they know what colour eyes the characters are supposed to have.

And this is where the line between fiction and reality starts to blur. (Which is the never ending cause of friction between those of us who like to play with the characters and the actors who portray them.)

The problem with radio programmes is that you never see the characters. For example, Martin and Douglas are never truly described in “Cabin Pressure”, so we pull from what the voice actors look like. It gives us a good starting place and allows the fandom to at least agree on something…

As any member of the Cumbercollective knows, Martin/Benedict’s eyes are blue/brown/gold/green/grey/silver. Or any combination thereof.

But the best part - and this is a real thing - is that Benedict has an eye freckle.

An. Eye. Freckle.

Dude. Seriously.

Look carefully at the picture.

Does this help?

And now, I have Douglas saying something like, “what the fuck is that on your eyeball, Martin? Is that a bloody freckle?!?!”

Ah, art…

Friday, December 27, 2013

Where am I from?

I’m absolutely fascinated with this dialect quiz the NYT put together.

The first time I took it, it said my three most similar were: Worcester, Boston, and Springfield.

My three least similar: New Orleans, Detroit and Toledo. (insert giggling here)

I took it today and my three most similar are Worcester, Springfield and Rochester NY

My least similar were: Houston, Jackson MS, and New Orleans

At least I’m consistent - I was born about an hourish from Worcester / Springfield and I guess that does inform a lot of my speech.

Memory landmines

Can I? Can I just…

I have this picture in a scrapbook, and I’ve been thinking about using it as a FB cover photo or in my blog for a long time. Seeing how the bridge wasn’t built until 2000 the photo was definitely from my 2002 trip to London. The one where I thought I only had a digital camera.

I was getting so annoyed / pissed off / absolutely enraged that out of all the thousands of London pictures I have, the one I want is the one I can not find. Anywhere.

And then, I came across a print of the photo.

A. Print.

What. The. Fuck.

No. Seriously. I have no idea where the print came from. All of the other pictures in that scrapbook were digital. There’s no reason that that one picture should only exist in my world as a print.

——

If you’re friends with me on Facebook, today you saw:
1) the closing paperwork from when my dad sold the house I grew up in

2) business cards from WRK and the Storm

3) ‘souvenirs’ from my time as an intern for the Hartford Failures

So very weird to find all that stuff. I like to call them “memory landmines” - you know, you’re going through a box of stuff and it’s like “oh, bills, bills, what the hell did I save this for, and HOLY FUCK! I SAVED A STORM BUSINESS CARD!”

I found that Storm card, and suddenly, I was packing my car and moving to Ohio, meeting J and just… reliving all that.

I didn’t spend nearly enough time cleaning that room out. There’s so much more to do, and so much I’m not capable of dealing with right now.

Eh, I can only do what I can do, and that’s asking a little much right now.