David Tennant, Scottish accent, fencing sabre… BOOM!

ahhhh… a little gingerbatch

The nice thing about having TiVo record everything with a certain actor in it is that you get exposed to things you might otherwise miss.

Like this PBS documentary about “Hamlet” narrated by David Tennant, with scenes from his version.

I’m dying here.

And - he’s running around London in a long coat, reminiscent of Ten’s.

And - And - AND! He fences sabre in it!

With the jacket and everything.

Nerdgasm.

Big time nerdgasm.

Two kinds of friends…

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.

This time, it’s for reals, yo.

i don’t know which version of the cumberbabe is cuter…

OK… let me start off by saying FUCK YOU, BBC2, for not airing “Starter for 10” on the BBC iPlayer… Seriously. All this girl wants today is a little Cumberbatch and Gatiss goodness. Guess I’m going to be forced to watch some “Sherlock”... Gee, that sucks. (Not really, but I was hoping for some new Cumberbatchian yumminess.)

While I’m embracing the cranky, guess who got let go yesterday? After two months, I was told simply that “it wasn’t working out.” I have no idea what that means. Not once was I ever told I was doing anything wrong. He did verbally attack me on Tuesday for no good reason and made me feel like I was a half inch tall. I let it slide… we had our good days and our bad days but, if anything, it was minor compared to The Bitch I Used to Work With.

And that’s just one of his many managerial missteps.

#1 on his list of fuck ups would be calling a female co-worker a “C-word” while on the phone with another female co-worker in front of a third female co-worker, but let’s not go there. That one I didn’t let slide, and he knew full well how inappropriate I felt that was, but then he proceeded to justify his use of the word.

Yeah.

In retrospect, I probably should have quit.

However, in an effort to cheer me up, the husband reminded me that this is a new chance to look for a job overseas.

A third try to get it right.

Last time, I had shit luck. All the companies with European offices were in Boston, and those were the ones that turned me down due to my commute. Maybe, just maybe, the third time will be the charm.

Dog, I fucking hope so.

So. Yeah. I’m going to dig deeper, look harder, and bug every single company I’m the least bit interested in if they have a UK office. Plus, I’m going to get even better educated on the ways of the UK visa procedures. There has to be a loophole somewhere. If people can illegally immigrate to the U.S., there has to be a way for people like me to get across the pond, right? (I may be rereading this a few more times, a little more carefully, and a hell of a lot more seriously.)

Speaking of things British, my Cabin Pressure fan fic has been called “Series 5” (draft #1), “The Missing Episodes” (draft #2), and now, draft #3 is going to be called “WHY WON’T YOU JUST FLOW SMOOTHLY, YOU ASSHOLE? WHY DOES THIS HAVE TO BE SUCH A STRUGGLE? AKA Series 3.5”

I’m not ready to walk away from it, but holy fuck… I honestly can’t remember the last time I worked this hard on a piece. Most of the time I write fiction, ANY fiction, I get to a point similar to where I was creatively before draft #2 and just leave it to die. I don’t know why I’m obsessed with finishing it, especially since it’s obsessed with finishing ME.

In other news, the Johnlock is slow going. Not because I’m struggling with that, too, but because the Cabin Pressure one won’t leave me alone.

I dunno… I know I’ll get through being unemployed (AGAIN), and I know I have some decent distractions (*cough* Cabin Pressure fan fic from hell *cough*)...

But right now, more than anything, I’m especially grateful to a certain platypus.

Thank you so much for texting me today even though it had to cost a small fortune.I’ll never be able to tell you just how big a smile it put on my face, but there’s a reason you’re my very favourite platypus.

——

Completely no-quite-so-unrelated… there’s a “how to” guide floating around teh intarwebs about writing fan fic based on British TV shows (mainly Doctor Who, but some Sherlock references made it in). One of the things the girl pointed out was that she really hated to read stories set in the UK that were written in American English. She basically said it ‘killed the mood’. It was an interesting point, and honestly, one that I’d already thought of AFTER writing “It Was Always There”. Before I started writing more fan fic, I made sure that all my computers were set to the UK standards (keyboard, clock, date formats, etc.), and my dictionaries are British English. It’s still screwing me up a little bit, but I knew I was in trouble when I started to write an email to a co-worker that used the British spelling of several words.

I felt a little ridiculous, but decided to shrug it off and leave the spelling alone.

It’s just who I am now… A UK resident in heart and mind, but not body.

Not yet.

Happy birthday, Martin Freeman!

a little inspiration for the new johnlock fic…

How fitting is it that Martin Fucking Freeman is 42 today? FORTY TWO!

(And - again - if you don’t understand the significance, get the fuck off my blog and stop calling yourself my friend. Seriously.)

——

I put the Cabin Pressure fan fic aside, because all it’s doing is pissing me off.

I was itching to write today, so I started writing the new Johnlock one I’ve had on the back burner.

It’s kind of cathartic writing a good ol’, pissed off, John Watson. Martin Freeman swears so much in real life, that a cussing John Watson - one that, at times, seems to have only the word ‘fuck’ (and variants thereof) in his vocabulary - has become canon. It was pretty fun to write John Watson with the censor off.

I didn’t mean to write this, but it just kind of slipped out: There had been a case where John and Lestrade had been arrested for solicitation. Mycroft had stepped in, made sure the charges and everything else, except for Greg’s school girl outfit, went away. Mystrade and cross dressing… two things I never thought I’d put in my Johnlock fics. I think there’s something seriously wrong with me. I’m definitely keeping it, though. It does need some polishing, but that will come in time.

(OMMFG! Spell check wanted to change Lestrade to straddle. NAUGHTY SPELL CHECK!)

——

I used my UK iTunes account today (which I am no doubt going to get busted for, eventually) to purchase the Cumberbatch movie “Wreckers” among other Cumberbatchian goodies, like a reading of “Jabberwocky” and the UK version of his episode of “Top Gear”. Can I just say that the £10 gift card someone AWESOME sent me disappeared way too quickly? It did. I’m down to 53p or something stupid like that.

Anyhoo - I just finished watching “Wreckers” and wow… that movie wrecked me.(HA!)

I… just… can’t. It’s not particularly good, and there isn’t enough Cumberbatch in it, but the ending shook me. I hate when that happens. Guaranteed I dream about it tonight.

——

I started to move the contents of my FOUR backup hard drives (and six thumb drives) to a newer, much larger, hard drive. (I swear to Dog, if I run out of room on this one, I’m going to pitch a hissy fit. However, I should probably point out that two of them are tiny little drives, one is full of photos and music and the other is a backup of three computers and the other big backup drive. The thumb drives I can’t explain. I think they fuck like bunnies when I’m not looking. Last I knew, I had exactly three: a SIMS plumbob, one I got at the GTD summit, and one with a friend’s pictures from BOSCON. However, I found six… SIX!)

I had a pretty good scare the other day when I couldn’t access the drive that had my iTunes library and Lightroom backups on it. Thankfully, it was just unplugged, but it made me realize (again) that there’s a lot of my life that’s been digitized and I don’t want to lose it. I was also thinking about how much room I take up by doing certain things I should probably never admit to. (I’ve given up being a web design dork to engage in other, more colourful aspects of the web. My inner fangirl has taken certain things and run with them. I’ve learned things I never thought I’d want to learn…)

At any rate, I’ve got a completely ridiculous, completely paranoid, back up plan.

It makes me feel better.

——

Speaking of feeling better, after 10 years, we are finally replacing our mattress. It’s been a long time coming, but those things are freaking expensive, and I haven’t wanted to spend the money on it. (That’s our London fund!!!!) However, it’s gotten to the point where I wake up in pain every morning.

We had a blast shopping for a new mattress. More fun than any two people should have, that’s for sure. (And no… there was none of THAT going on. I was just manic. I’m FUN when I’m manic.)

If I’d known it was going to be that much fun, I wouldn’t have put it off for as long as we did.

——-

This entry had a point, at one point, but I’ll be dipped if I can remember what I was going to write about…

Oh well…

Head canon confirmed…

top!/dom!sherlock fan fic writers just *squeed* with delight

While I stall, and stall, and stall some more… here’s random notes I found on my iPhone:

——

B: Maybe she doesn’t swallow?
V: NO! I DO!
B: Aren’t you glad I don’t blog?

Two words: Bubble. Tea.

——

I would kill a midget for a shoehorn

I have no fucking idea where this came from…

——

B: Your shit and my shit are having a menage-a-trios. It smelled good, and then it smelled like shit, and then it smelled like shit again.
D: So our shits double teamed the good smell?

Note to self: never share a hotel room with three boys..

——

He handed her the beer, a curious look in his eyes. She hesitated for a moment, afraid. Would it taste like him? Would the feel of his fingers brushing hers as he handed it to her send chills down her spine? Was it a test of her resolve or a question of whether or not she trusted him?

In the end, she shook her head. “No thanks. I don’t drink.” She was safe - safe from what, she didn’t know exactly, but she was safe.

I remember writing that… maybe I should take that and run with it?

——

The stages of grief include being pissed beyond belief, sad, loopy, and David Tennant. Well, I’m experiencing them out of order because the stages of grief aren’t a straight line from point A to point B… It’s more like a big ball of wibbly, wobbly, griefy, wiefy, stuff.

Conversation had during a weekend in Boston right after I got laid off from SG

——

Just a spoonful of sugar helps the boys go down… on each other… I’m going to hell for this.

I wish I could claim ownership of that. However, it’s not mine, and I didn’t note which fan fic author wrote it.

——

A rabbit of negative euphoria. Not a happy bunny.

One of my favorite Cabin Pressure lines from “Johannesburg”

——

“Dear God,” Carolyn gasped focussing her attention back on Douglas. “This could be as bad as that time we went to New York and had to blindfold him for the entire drive down Fifth Avenue so that he didn’t give himself an aneurism trying to keep track of all the yellow cabs.”

From a Cabin Pressure fan fic… I didn’t note the author.

——

I do come in pocket size. With your choice of personalities: “Barely acceptable for public outings” and “HOLY CRAP! I can’t take you ANYWHERE!” 6-8 weeks shipping, so place your order now in time for Christmas delivery.

After a dear friend said, “Random thought… the people you’re lucky enough to have in your life that calm your nerves and make you laugh need to come in pocket size so you can carry them with you.”

——

...This was meant to be a cuddle fic focused on Sherlock’s voice. Apparently, Sherlock’s voice got shoved unceremoniously to the background by the cuddle. And then out of nowhere a roving brace of warm fuzzies came and elbowed both cuddle and voice aside. Dictation. If you ask me, that’s all a fic writer is ever doing. Taking damned dictation from the voices. Shhh, you can just barely hear them. The Voices. - AtlinMerrick, Johnlock fic author

I LOVE AM’s stuff. Even the author’s notes. Also! Dictation! Someone else feels the way I do about writing!