Saturday, March 08, 2014

Я український

apparently, big hats are di lestrade’s division

I’ve been catching up with CNN’s take on the crap that’s going on in Ukraine.

(Note: I grew up hearing it called / calling it The Ukraine. I read - somewhere - that Ukies don’t like it being called The Ukraine. I’ll try to remember that from here on out.)

The comments on some of the articles are enlightening… and disturbing.

Somewhere, there was a not-so-friendly discussion about monarchies and democracies and other government types. Then, it devolved into an argument over grammar and semantics. By the time they finally circled back to the original topic (Crimea joining Russia), it had gotten all the way to Quebec leaving Canada because they wanted to be ‘More French”. (Not my caps, btw.)

I can’t follow the logic. I want to understand, because some of the commenters were well versed in their history and politics and grammar, but the idiots spouting their opinions made it hard. (For what it’s worth, you could almost tell the ‘muricans simply based on their spelling. And I’m not talking about favour / favor.)

But anyhoo…

I grew up knowing that I was Ukrainian. My grandparents’ home was filled with things you’d recognise as Ukrainian: the yellow and blue flag, the trident, wooden pysanky... they cooked Ukrainian food, they spoke Ukrainian and so forth.

There was never ever any doubt that I was, I AM, Ukrainian.

I’ve mentioned it before - I wasn’t brought up Ukrainian. My only exposure to it was through my grandparents. My mother ignored who she was in our house. There were a few Ukie things visible, but by and large, we were Americans.

After my father died, I went on this quest to figure out who I was. I decided then that I wanted to learn Russian because I knew a lot of Ukies spoke Russian and it was easier to find someone to teach me.

I was still speaking to my aunt at that point, and I got a very rough version of the family history. Including a chewing out for even THINKING about learning Russian.

I got just enough useful information to search for my grandparents’ social security number applications. I found my mother’s birth certificate.

And then I promptly forgot all about needing to know who I was.

I reconnected with an old friend several years ago who is everything I wanted to be: active in her ethnic community, fluent in the language, et cetera. While the friendship has long since ended (again), she awoke a desire in me to reconnect with my Ukrainian side. I joined the UNWLA’s Boston chapter for a short while. Reached out to the Harvard Ukrainian Research Institute. Bought software and apps to teach myself Ukie.

And then life got in the way and I had other things I needed to focus on.

A year ago, our talks about moving to the UK suddenly took on a life of their own.

Since I can prove European descent, it fell on me to try to get EU citizenship. (Tier two visas aren’t easy to come by.) If I could establish EU citizenship, I could cross borders without a visa and bring him over on a spousal visa.

First came German citizenship, since I have my mother’s German birth certificate.

Not German.

I dug a little deeper and found immigration documents stating that my grandparents and mother were Polish. (Including the social security documentation.)

Not Polish.

Ukrainian.

As if there were any doubt, but shifting borders and whatnot made it…. interesting.

And here I am.

Tomorrow, I put down the deposit on my Ukrainian lessons.

Tomorrow, I begin the journey to discover what my mother fought so hard to ignore.

Things are about to get interesting.

 

Ukrainian fish tanks and mayonnaise

your daily dose of cumberbatch

I love my job with an amount of passion equal to the amount I hate spiders.

For you playing along at home, that’s a whole metric fuckload and then some.

Thursday and Friday were fucking awesome. I don’t remember the last time I cracked up like that at work. Maybe there was a good day or two at SG way back at the beginning or with D, but I think this may top it.

Our Head Dude of Ticketing (I don’t know his real title) was in our old Group Sales Dude’s cube, going through his desk, looking for… something. I hear, “Hey, are you over there?” Then something comes flying over the cube wall. It’s a packet of mayo. He’s so thoughtful, ain’t he? I laughed so hard, but it kind of hurt when I threw it away. Oh well. I’ll always have my memories:

 

I didn’t think it could get much better than flying mayo packets, but he topped it yesterday.

He came over to our side of the offices looking for a bucket. Once he procured one, he was running back and forth between the box office and the bubbler trying to fill the bucket. It turns out he’s cleaning the Amazing Pissing Fish Tank in The Skippah’s office. (Seriously. The water level is below the filter thing and sounds like it’s pissing all day. I don’t know how the two men and the poor girl at the Box Office window listen to that all day.)

Finally, he starts looking for a five gallon water bottle. We don’t have any in the admin office, so he had to go down to Ops. He was trying to be all stealthy and stuff and not let anymore know that he was going to use the water to fill the tank.

Our admin called him a shyster and then wondered if that was the right word. A trip to Urban Dictionary confirmed that it wasn’t the right word, so she checked Merriam Webster. It was decided that he really wasn’t a shyster, but that we needed to work the word “pettifogger” into our vocabulary.

I was in tears, man. In. Tears.

I totally love A.

When I’m not bugging him for information and generally pissing him off, he’s pretty awesome.

——

I’m going to pay for my Ukie lessons today. So! Excited!!!!

The timing is so shitty, given current events, but it’s been a long time coming…

——

I downloaded Scrivener a long time ago, but I haven’t gotten into it. It’s the lack of iPad and iPhone apps. With Storyist and Dropbox, I can write anywhere on any iOS device. It’s the best thing ever. The only problem is, I can only seem to write at work, on my phone. *sigh*

I suppose I can’t complain. At least I’m writing…

Saturday, March 01, 2014

And so it begins…

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"

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.

Thursday, February 27, 2014

PORN!

i’d buy that porn parody in a heartbeat

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.

Thursday, February 20, 2014

#ao3million!!!!

and the wisdom to remember that i am not a member of the psychotic side of the fandom

Blew that on my 2nd day of acknowledging my SuperWhoLockiness.

Whoops.

——

Two very real things that happened at work today (posted to FB, but saved here for posterity)

1) When told he was a “pain in the ass”, someone responded with “I’d like to think I’m a pleasure in the ass.”  [waits a beat]  “I probably could have phrased that better.”

Please note: Anal sex jokes are perfectly appropriate at work. Calling women a “See You Next Tuesday” is not.

2) Currently listening to the Marketing Manager and the Director of Finance having a VERY EMOTIONAL discussion (complete with name calling) over fast food restaurants.

I seriously laughed until I cried when I heard the MM tell the DoF “You’re a fucking moron. In-N-Out Burger.  What the fuck is wrong with you? Moron.”

If I haven’t said it enough: I LOVE MY FUCKING JOB!!!!!!!!! I don’t even have the words.

Yesterday, I was told that the game plan is for me to take over as DoF in two years. Really.

*happy dance*

——

Speaking of game plans…

I decided yesterday (?) that I was going to apply for Ukrainian citizenship on the off-chance they get their shit together and join the EU.  (Fucking Russians are in the way. If you need to know what I’m going on about: start here. Then, go here.)

If the Russians were to get out of the way, and the Ukraine was able to join the EU, I’d have my golden ticket to the UK again.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, it’s a long shot, but if this whole citizenship adventure has shown me anything, it’s that I’m not afraid to put myself out there for crushing heartbreak if it means I’m closer to leaving the US.

It’s not like leaving my current job is an option. I’m too happy there to even think about leaving. Besides, I’m holding out hope that they finally get established somewhere among the EU member states and I get to relocate there.

——

I’ve decided that I am never going to write original fiction again.

Writing fan fiction is so much “easier”. I can still write my fucked up story lines, but I don’t have to do any character development.

I’m working on a new one because the four I already have started just aren’t enough, I guess. I had to add a fifth.

——

Our Regional Director of Finance is in the office this weekend, which means I’m in the office all weekend. Literally ALL WEEKEND.

I can’t believe I’m as excited about this as I am. I can’t wait to spend Saturday and Sunday with the RDoF. He’s hilarious. Added bonus: I get some much needed training! *happy dance*