a good day ain't got no rain

I would appear to have acquired a tumblr.

'Cause I need more excuses to waste time.

Y'all should rec me tumblrs to follow.

I think I've figured out what would make Smash better for me (apart from, like, patience. Seriously, plot lines can develop for more than two episodes. It's okay. And also perhaps letting Debra Messing wear better clothes again - the woman is gorgeous, seriously). I realise this probably wouldn't make the show more popular, but let's focus on what's important here.
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In conclusion: This show really isn't very good. And yet the bits that are good, or promising, or charming, are just enough to keep me hooked. Hooked enough that I'm tempted to get a tumblr. This does not promise well for my productivity in the near future.

Also, Tom's totally singing next week & celebrating his anniversary with Julia. Like I'm not so there.

Guys, I think I need help. Specifically, I think I need help quitting Smash, because I've spent a lot of time today - time which would have been better spent reading and editing my covering letter for a tutoring job - composing a list of all of the reasons why Derek is super, super wrong in thinking that David Guetta-esque autotune will make 'Marilyn: the Musical' more appealing. Starting with the super obvious fact that it's Broadway musical. And ending with a comprehensive list of musically challenging musicals which have won Tonys in the past decade (hint: Derek is super, super wrong). This is not a good use of my time. Neither is watching CUNY's Theatre Talk.

I blame B for taking me to see Legally Blonde and re-starting all of my musical feelings. I may have spent my train journey home from Leicester thinking of ways to abandon academia for musical theatre. Sadly, I have no talents. This deeply dismays me (though not as much as the fact that there's very little academic work done on musicals - niche, anyone?).

Legally Blonde was amazing though. Bean and I may have been epically gleeful and dance-y during the finale. We started a clapping roll during the Irish dance sequence and it's been a while since I've been so giggly. Also, Emmett and Elle totally join my list of best-ever musical couples - I'm so easy for the fact that they don't actually get a love duet and that Emmett isn't the reason she stays in Boston and also Chip on My Shoulder.

Still not a reason for being addicted to Smash, though. Particularly as it's kind of bad, and I really don't care about Karen at all. Or Ellis. On the other hand, I would watch Eileen, Derek, Tom and Ivy do their thing forever. They're kind of brilliant, in a really camp and corny way. And as long as Julia stops having family-slash-Michael-related angst, she can come too. That's still quite a lot of changes, but as long as they keep having super-epic guest stars and Ivy gets to sing occasionally, I'm probably here for the long haul. Musical theatre, it's kind of like a drug.

Also, Derek is still super, super wrong.

And people should come tell me about their feelings about the Being Human finale, because I can only make dolphin noises and occasionally squeak "Annie!" and "Best friend" and "Oh, Alex". It was heartbreaking and happy-making in equal measure and I kind of want it back now.

So, I finally turned in my first major piece of written work for my Ph.D. This was both nerve-racking and slightly ego boosting (I have written something! Which won't be in my final project, but may contribute!). And then I came home and instead of loafing in front of the TV and eating chocolates, I instead cleaned my office. And I have decided to immortalise this because who knows when this will happen again?

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Tomorrow: Blog post, Spanish homework & looking for new glasses. This week, I will do adulthood!

...hopefully.

Fun fact: I may have watched the 2011 Tony Awards three times in the last 48 hours and written 800 words, edited 500 and read two chapters in various books. This is approximately 90% more work than I've managed in the last two weeks and it's despite the fact that I have an epic cold. As I was flicking through my photo folder, I found this (creepy) un-posted fandom secret. This tells me two things: I'm going to need to deal with my stress levels better & also, I would really appreciate it if they could make the Tony Awards biannual. & also always make Neil Patrick Harris host. I don't require much in this world, I feel like this is doable.


Also, this is just - well, it's brilliant. Which is quite irritating.

And now, I am going to have a glass of cider, read some of my trashy historical novel and listen to the Tonys. Again. It's sort of like living beautifully, but with a cold, a volatile mood and questionable taste in music and books.

Sherlock is back! And I loved most of the episode, although I have apparently reached the point where I actually think they're exaggerating Holmes' canonical flaws a little too much (canon Sherlock is not actually rude all the time; has a better social and moral compass than this one, at least in some of the tales). I have also reached the point where this is how I view Sherlock and John's relationship and I wish the creators and actors would stop talking about gay/not gay relationships before my head implodes with the need to sky-write "YOU ARE MAKING THIS AN ISSUE. NO ONE BUT YOU". With regards to Irene Adler, I once again feel like no one has actually read A Scandal in Bohemia. ( Collapse )

So I loved it, but am a little confused. I do like this piece of meta a lot, though, even if I'm not sure I agree with it all.

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Completely unrelated, but you should all read Running Towards Gunshots, a wonderful essay on the meaning and history of Joan of Arc. I love the idea of a patron saint of of queer folks in the military, victims of gender policing, cross-dressers, queer folks and women in politics, people and especially women who come from out of nowhere to exercise political voice, people and especially women who are violently assaulted or killed for having effective political voices [...] lapsed Catholics, lapsed Catholic women, women who have huge-ass troubles with the sexism of Catholics, and feminism. This is perhaps blasphemous, but Joan is also the patron saint of blasphemy. Go. Read.

1. I have successfully written, edited and uploaded my Yuletide fic. This makes me feel accomplished and skilled! And also like I can now resume my social life. Also my academic life, where I am resolutely not thinking about my chapter due in next month.

2. Paul Gross was so pretty. Like, I keep needing to re-wind Due South to watch his face. And his eyes. And his neck, I cannot even.

2a. OTPPPPPPPPP. FOREVER.

3. All I want for Christmas is social skills and a work ethic. Anyone got some going spare?

Just home from a rather wonderful Christmas carol service (their choral version of A Coventry Carol made me teary, it was so wonderful) and now eating three-bean chili and watching Strictly Come Dancing results on-demand. The actual plan was to catch up on The Killing, but I've had four hours of sleep, am on my period and have a cold (cheers, lattara!). So instead, I am failing as an an intellectual and comfort-watching Strictly. I'm particularly enjoying this series, while also feeling shippy about it, which is worrying - I mean, it's Strictly.

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In news which is less utterly ridiculous, lattara's being visiting for the past week. This meant lots of delicious cake and sweets, giggling over Lewis (show!!) and re-watching of Singin' in the Rain. It also inspired a rather exciting exploration of Newcastle, which included seeing the Castle Keep (where Sofie and Bug had the joy of listening to me waffle about medieval kings, lucky them!), the Turner Prize (which was, uh, mildly underwhelming?), Barter Books (where I managed to pick up a beautiful copy of A Passage to India and which also has several fire places to sit and muse over book choices - a treat when it's so cold out) and a symposium on Post-colonial Interdisciplinary Approaches (everyone's idea of a good time!), followed by Nepalese curry with my fellow Englishers.

We also went to see Susan Calman do stand-up - it was my third time seeing her and she's still very funny, though more interactive than usual, which isn't my favourite kind of comedy. We also went Christmas shopping and market-hopping, the result of which is that I am now properly in the Christmas mood. Bring on the music, the mince-pies and the Christmas parties!

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If a cinema near you does the opera showings, I heartily recommend them. Although, food and booze are a must.

Finally, faculty Christmas party: valid reason to buy new flats, y/y/mfy?

Today someone told me that when I met Bug (almost five years ago, for the record), she was 13. Thirteen. I am now officially someone old enough to have been dating someone for half a decade. It does not help that, not long after this conversation, I came back home, made myself tea and sat down to knit while listening to Radio Four. Oh, age. How you do creep up on me.

This was at a Reclaim the Night march, which was fabulous, if a bit short (I sort of feel like it shouldn't really be finished by 7.30pm, though it is dark and windy). Good speeches, although some of them rather lost the feminist aspect in their (admittedly righteous) socialist rage. There was an amazing one from this older woman, there with her young nephew, who spoke about the organisation of rape crisis centres and feminist campaigners; it was both moving and inspiring and made me remember that I really do need to get involved with volunteering again.

The early evening does have its advantage, as life suddenly decided to go mad this week. Mostly from my own choices - I didn't have to go swing dancing twice this week, or go to the two feminist society meet-ups, or join Yuletide - but it does seem to be Ph.D. crunch time as well. Particularly as I made the spectacularly misjudged decision to give a paper to a symposium on a topic which is tangential to my project as a whole. But thankfully one of my friends is giving a paper at the same symposium, so hopefully we can compare notes.

Still, being this busy means I'm starting to learn the art of dipping into things, specifically, dipping into fiction and essays. I've rediscovered my love of short stories - particularly Julian Barnes, and particularly The History of the World in 10 and 1/2 Chapters, which is delightful and ridiculously enjoyable to read in 6 minute instalments on the metro. I have especially enjoyed the first story, an alternative perspective on the ark stories, but the story about Scene of a Shipwreck which develops into a meditation on art and why we choose to portray what we do in art, which is frankly amazing.

I've also just picked up Vera Brittain's letters and a collection of Waldo Emerson's essays (library book sales, oh you are my downfall. My incredibly, incredibly cheap downfall. And by downfall, I mean place where I can purchase gorgeous old books) which also look ideal for dipping into - short, elegant and readable, if (in Brittain's case) sad.

(I also love the phrase 'dipping in to'; it sounds delightfully Woolf-ian. I particularly like using it in academic contexts, as in: "I am currently dipping in and out of Freud's On Murder, Mourning and Melancholia, between reading the novels," which sounds much more, well, elegant, than the truth, which is that my reading speed is depressingly slow these days.)

In other news, my hair has grown enough that I'm starting to evolve a Julie-Andrews-in-Sound of Music-style bob. I think this means that spinning around in the local park singing Doe-A-Dear is now socially acceptable. Bug, you will be unsurprised to hear, does not agree.

Also, someone should be writing Lund/Strange fic for The Killing. That's not an opinion, by the way, that's an objective truth.

Dear Yule Goat,

Sorry for the incredibly late letter, life is what life is. However! First of all: thank you. I really appreciate that you're writing a story for me - and no matter what, I'm sure I'll love it. And as always, any notes below are entirely optional. If you have a bunny already, just chase that.
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