That friend, with the divorce, and the suicide watch, and the blunt text I sent?
Still haven’t heard back from them.
Commenced freaking out a couple of days ago.
Sent a “please fucking tell me you’re still breathing” text.
Nothing.
I posted this as my FB status today: I don’t know how much more I can give without losing everything I’ve worked so hard for… And I’m pissed at myself for giving in and putting myself in that position in the first place.
Some people are just takers, and I should keep my distance. I don’t know why I can’t.
(My american football / hockey boyfriend had the best comment on that: “I assume you are talking about BU hockey. I know the feeling.” LOVE HIM.)
Not quite a cry for attention, but if you knew what was going on, you knew why it was as vague as it was. It got the attention it needed from the person it needed attention from. So. Yeah.
Turns out my friend was reassigned from one residence to another. Their new place of residence has a mental health facility and is better adept to take care of them.
While I hope it was my too blunt text that caused this, I’m well aware that there is a very high possibility of them doing something stupid and drastic that resulted in their move…
I promised both of us I wouldn’t walk away again.
But Jesus fucking Christ on a motherfucking pogo stick, do they make it impossible to want to keep that promise…
One of the women I knit with got into Sherlock. (Had nothing to do with me loaning her the DVDs. Nope.)
She watched the third series and asked me - no joke - what the hell happened with the show.
Yeah.
I don’t know, either.
——
I was thinking about fan fiction today…
It seems so dirty - like all of us fic writers and readers are filthy degenerates.
Well, to you, I give this:
Any time anything is ever based on something that exists, that’s fan fiction.
Somebody loved something enough to recreate it and put their spin on it.
For Mofftiss, it was to recreate their beloved Sherlock Holmes and move him into the 21st century.
For Bryan Fuller, it was to create a version of Hannibal Lecter before Harris’ Red Dragon introduced him to the world.
I just started watching “Hannibal” and it’s OK. It’s not terrible. It’s not great.
It’s watchable.
What really put it on my radar was tumblr. (Big surprise!)
Or to be more exact, discussions of the sexuality of the show on tumblr.
Apparently, it’s OK to ship Lecter and Starling all you want. It’s a het couple and it’s well established. (And fuck, in the third book of the ‘Hannibal Trilogy’ as I call it, Harris gives us Clannibal. As gross as it was.)
It is NOT OK to ship Lecter and Will (Hannigram), because and I quote: LECTER IS NOT GAY.
As I understand it, fic writers who live in a world where a serial killing cannibal is gay are twisted, but people who live in a world where that same serial killing cannibal is straight are perfectly okie-dokie.
I mean, people who like stories about serial killers - especially those who are cannibals - aren’t twisted in the slightest. Whether or not the serial killing cannibal in question is bent.
I dunno. I never thought about Hannibal Lecter in terms of sexuality and ‘shipping’ because when I was introduced to Harris’s books, I was too young / too sheltered to know that stuff like that existed.
Watching “Hannibal” today? With access to shipping goggles?
I don’t see it either way. Lecter with Clarise Starling or Lecter with Will Graham? Neither does anything for me… I feel that Lecter isn’t a sexual character in any way, shape, or form. Like he’s evolved past that in a way that only Sherlock can dream of. (Sorry - not to defend my Johnlock-iness, but the BBC’s version is definitely dripping with homoerotic tension. It’s a conscious choice by Mofftiss.)
I forgot where I was going with this… something about porn and slash and OH!
Folders named “How to take it up the ass like the bitch you are”. That’s where I was going with that.
I picked my laptop up on Friday and they had to put a new top case thingy on it. My power button is now flush with the casing instead of sitting beneath it. It feels weird to not have to be careful when I hit the power button… I was cutting myself on the sharp edge for a bit there.
They didn’t even need to turn it on.
I actually bummed about that. I really wanted to talk about the murder ideas…
——
Decided, fuck it. I’ve done all the leg work.
I’m applying for Ukrainian citizenship. While I highly doubt it will happen, the Ukraine could become a member of the EEC. So, yeah. I’ll have a golden ticket.
——
Work is keeping me busy.
Writing fan fic is keeping me busy.
Knitting is keeping me busy.
Reading is keeping me busy.
Playing ‘college student or homeless person’ is keeping me busy.
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.
I suddenly have lost all hope in my favourite Mac repair shop.
Oh, wait. Let me rephrase that… the only place that repairs Macs and will touch something Apple deems “vintage”. Um, is seven years old really vintage? Four years out of AppleCare, yes, but vintage?
(BTW - I got curious to see what vintage actually means, and the British dictionary on my Mac (shut up), defines vintage as “denoting something from the past of high quality, especially something representing the best of its kind: a vintage Sherlock Holmes adventure.”)
I may have laughed inappropriately hard at that as well.
Heh. I said “hard”.
Where was I?
Oh yeah, my sick vintage baby, is at a hospital where the doctors may not be particularly up to date on issues as simple to fix as a depressed power button.
No, not that kind of depressed. *rolls eyes*
I know how to fix it - the guy at the Genius Bar who wouldn’t/couldn’t fix it told me exactly what I needed to do. I need to remove all the guts from the casing so I can access the button and pop it back into place. I didn’t want to do that - it’s an awful lot of bits and tiny screws - and figured I’d pay someone to do that for me. Once I had a job.
The internet told me a different story, and that one turned out to be a lie. It actually made the button worse and now it’s so far down into the casing, it’s hitting the speaker.
So, I tell the Mac store people this, and they look at me like they’ve never heard of a power button that got used so much it fell into the casing. Really? On a seven year old laptop that’s used every day? A power button has never wiggled out of place? Maybe it just doesn’t happen in this area?
When I asked them about the USB 3.0 issue, I also got a blank eye stare. This is a well known issue. A very well known issue and google can prove it.
Yet, they had no idea what I was talking about and then made it obvious that they thought I had no idea what I was talking about.
(And let’s not even get anywhere near the fact that the dude behind the counter talked to J as if I wasn’t there and as if he knew what was wrong with a computer he never touches.)
Today’s last ditch effort to fix it included digging out an old, self-powered, USB 1.0 hub and plugging the drive into that.
Yep. Using USB 1.0 to power a 3.0 drive. It’s working, though. I don’t know for how long, but it is. I suspect it may not be a problem with the Mac as much as it may be a problem with the drive itself. The Mac says it’s unreadable and if I say “ignore” instead of “eject”, I can see it in disk utility, but I can’t do anything with it. It’s under warranty under Seagate’s original warranty and then with the 2 year Staples plan I purchased. I just have to figure out where to store all my data before I do anything with the drive. (There’s a reason I bought something as irrationally big as 4TB…)
*sigh*
Have I even mentioned how much I hate our dependence on technology?
I mean, I love my iMac - I really do and I have two computers for a reason, but my MBP and I have been through so much that it feels like I’m cheating on my lover.
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.
