Friday, June 28, 2013

Do you have a boyfriend? Which is fine, by the way.

There are 3 major components to human sexuality: biological sex, sexual orientation, and gender identity.

LOVE WHO YOU WANT. IT’S ALL FINE

(Still celebrating the fact that DOMA and Prop 8 are dead.)

——

I have a phone screen today with a company based over an hour away from here.  They have clients that hire them for accounting duties and then they assign clients to their accounting staff… I’d be part of that staff and after some training at HQ, I’d be able to work from home.The pay’s not the greatest, but I think I can offset that by not having to commute.

Can I work from home? That’s the magic question, isn’t it?

I’m terribly lonely right now, but I’m also sitting on the couch, doing absolutely nothing after I do my few hours of job searching. Part of that is because I know I’m no fun right now (wicked, wicked, wicked, deep dark depression) and part of that is all the people that I’d hang out with don’t live around me. If I wasn’t depressed, I’d probably be doing some projects around the house. But I can barely get out of bed to get Guinness to day care… and the only reason he’s even going is because we prepaid in January for the year.

If I were working, I’d have contact with people. I’d have a reason to get out of bed. I know I have the discipline to work from home…

Let’s hope the screen goes better than that assessment earlier this week, because that completely set my mental state back quite a few notches.

——

Playing in John Finnemore’s sandbox and writing this Cabin Pressure fan fic is KILLING me.

The series is set in real time, so Series 1 took place in 2008 and it goes all the way through Series 4 which takes place in 2013. (The only oddity is that Arthur stated to be 29 in the first three series… Considering that Finnemore plays Arthur, you think he’d catch that. *sigh* At least that doesn’t screw up anything because I couldn’t remember how old Arthur was in Series 4 so I said he was in his early thirties.)

I have this great story, but the timeline fell to shit when I realized that possibly the most important part of my story takes place in 2013. Everything kind of hangs on the events of “Yverdon-les-Bains”, which is the last episode in Series 4. The other important parts I’ve squeezed in between series… Part 1 of the trilogy takes place in October 2009, Part 2 in 2011 (which - the way I wrote it - included the resolution of Y-L-B’s cliffhanger), Part 3 was scheduled to fit around Christmas 2012, and Part 4 was pushed out to 2014 to make something important make sense in the canon timeline.

Everything in the first three parts references Y-L-B and I knew the reference didn’t really belong in Part 1, but I had to write the next parts to see where it would fit better. EVERYTHING in the second part happens because of Y-L-B,  but since the second part kind of needs to happen before 2013, I’m totally screwed.

The only good thing is that Part 1 is Martin’s story, which while dependent on Douglas’ divorce in 2009, doesn’t need Y-L-B in it. The only problem is that I like having Part 2 in Paris, and Paris was aired in 2011… I think I may have to find a new city for that piece of the story to take place in. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuck, fuck…

Being unemployed right now is not good, but at least I have this to distract me and keep me busy. VERY busy.

Sunday, June 23, 2013

Long overdue, yet it feels too early to share.

When we first met, you were my everything. (Well, I say “everything”… We were in Jr. High. “Everything” was not much and too much all rolled into one confusing teenage hormonal package.)

On some level, even back then, we knew the other was broken, and we figured out a way to make it work and keep our distance all at the same.

It’s weird to see the past twenty-something, nearly thirty, years broken down into such a simple sentence.

But it’s true, isn’t it?

Our entire shared existence has been nothing but figuring out how to make it work and keep our distance all at the same time. I’m not going to spell it out for you. You were there. You know what happened.

The dance we’ve danced our entire lives… I have it memorized: the steps written on my heart, in my soul, in a language only the two of us know.

You’ve broken and put my heart back together so many times that I should hate you. I should stay away from you.

And God knows, I’ve tried.

Yet, you refuse to give up. To go away.

Yet, I refuse to give up. To stay away.

The last time you broke my heart should have been the last time. How many last chances can you give someone?

Too many?

Not enough?

But here we are…

Dancing our dance, like nothing’s happened.

Commence dying.

Two miles on the beach today.

5K this afternoon with my gym buddy.

Five-ish miles all together. All with 30 pounds of good livin’ attached to my back.

The verdict is: I think I’m going to die.

And, dude, that’s just WALKING. Never mind the fact that I haven’t done a single push up, flutter kick, bear crawl, etc. with the pack on. OR carrying a log. OR carrying the team weight…

I’ll be revising my will this week. If you want anything, let me know.

——

I got another positive review on my Johnlock fic! That’s a whole whopping three people who have said kind things, and zero who have been shitheads.

Of course, I’m just dying to be a shithead. I was reading what could have been a beautiful piece of fic and the author used the phrase “would of/could of” CONSISTENTLY. I thought I was going to jump through my phone and strangle the author. I see some offers to proofread/beta in my future. I don’t want to read beautiful fan fic that’s ruined because the author doesn’t know how to write. Most people who write in English when it’s not their first language will make a comment, or it’s very obvious. There’s nothing about this person that would lead me to assume that English is a second language… and that just makes me sad.

OK. Off to thank the review writer…

Friday, June 21, 2013

All those British boys…

My interview in Needham went pretty well. It turns out that they’re good with working remotely. There’s a guy from Maine who works there, and if they don’t care about his commute, they won’t care about mine.

There’s a lot to like about that company. *fingers crossed*

My Tuesday interview became Wednesday.  At least I still have the interview… although I’m nervous they’ll pull something like the cost job did.

My friends are awesome (as if I needed to say that again). I’ve been a little out of sorts since the interview… I was the first person in and he didn’t take a single note during my interview. Can’t tell if I blew it or not. So it’s nice to laugh that hard and be set right.

Today, the monster I created (a friend from high school and a friend from college have bonded over ‘mommy’ stuff), decided to address circumcision on Facebook. It’s not something I pay attention to because kids aren’t something on my bucket list, but I do see the stuff they post from time to time. It’s to the point where even I think it’s a bad idea. Which started this thing that ended with my friend reminding me that all my British crushes have ALL of their equipment. I can’t even begin to tell you how hard that one comment made me laugh. I’m not even sure why.

Was thinking about driving to NY for a Black Mountain Symphony show, but decided against it. It’s a five and a half hour drive and I’m just not into it today. Which really sucks because I want to see them… Maybe I should shift my job search to Albany. Screw the UK.

OK. My fan fic is calling. Outside is calling. I think I can mix the two for a while. Maybe I’ll bring out a notebook and write the new bits longhand. (Does anyone do that anymore?!)

Wednesday, June 19, 2013

Did you like the little touch with the underwear?

“I can open any door, anywhere with a few tiny lines of computer code. No such thing as a private bank account now. They’re all mine. No such thing as secrecy. I OWN secrecy. Nuclear codes? I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And honey… you should see me in a crown…” (Jim Moriarty - The Reichenbach Fall)

God, I LOVE that line.

(It’s so hard to hate Moriarty when Andrew Scott is so fucking adorable.)

——

It’s been a week since my interview with the industry company and nothing. I’m assuming at this point that I probably didn’t get it. *sigh*

——

For the archives:

Duke of Stud: I fucking adore you.

Me: Because I’m in a pissy mood?

Duke of Stud: No… because you have so much vigor… such passion… it amuses and inspires me simultaneously. (I originally read that as AROUSES and inspires. *sigh* No more homoerotic fan fic for me today! Although, considering the source, it’s not too far fetched. *ahem*)

Me: Most people would tell me to piss off or up my meds.

Duke of Stud: Not me… I understand you. I’m the same way about certain topics. It’s actually interesting to see it in another person. I’m learning more about myself in the process.

Me: You’re the Watson to my Holmes.

For what it’s worth… after all the shit we’ve put each other through, for the past 20+ years, I’m so glad that we’re both determined to figure out a way to make this work. The better he gets, the more I see what I lost in that apartment in Windsor Locks all those years ago. I may have talked him out of the suicide attempt that night, but the boy I knew, the boy I loved, died that night.

I guess, when I put it that way, he’s kind of the Holmes to my Watson.

Either way, we’re two halves of the same whole.

My dad knew it.

I knew it.

The Duke knew it.

It’s taken us forever to get back to that point, but it’s been worth it. The hole he left behind all those years ago isn’t easily patched, but we’re working on it.

It’s going as well as I think it could be, although I’m still prone to keep my walls up and not let myself get pulled back into Teh Crazy.

We’ll never have the conversation we need to have, but we’re having the ones that matter.

I can’t ask for anything more.