The Cesspool

Where All The Debris Falls

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Doc Holliday
Also, does anyone really use LJ anymore? If not, I need a blog site to transfer all my half-decent ramblings to.

(blows the dust off)
Doc Holliday
Well, well, well. Long time no type. I just got suckered into posting on the House/Cameron group for her last ep...and then I noticed I hadn't posted here privately since March. And then I hadn't posted here publically since last year. Hm.

Life's been busy. And I also had kids to think about -- not mine but rather my students. Fortunately, I'm not teaching at this point...well, not fortunately but yes. I don't have to worry so much about what I say anymore. It can just be myself now. Lot of changes.

So let's recap.

Romantic situations -- as always, complicated. Neither resolved, still an ongoing adventure. For all intents and purposes, I'm still alone. Which still sucks.

Location, Location, Location -- I moved to Texas. Fort Worth specifically. Cheaper to live in, closer to friends. Needed a change in climate and location after being in New Jersey for far longer than I desired. More on that later.

Professional -- Teaching job ended, I moved to Texas, and I'm swinging two jobs. Macy's as a seasonal assistant manager type thingy and a telemarketer/fundraiser for the Fort Worth Symphony. Good times. While I miss academia, I like not taking my work and kids home with me. It's a lot to carry around. I'm such a Cameron in that I care waaaaay too much about everyone and everything.

Family -- still looney. Latest blow was that my grandfather died, one of the sane people. Miss the hell out of him. His estate cleared my student debt...

Which leaves me here. I just got a 1530 on the GRE. I'm applying to the Ivy League schools.

The above will be null and void as of this fall. Exciting feeling.

I Need to Go on "Ripley's Believe It or Not."
Theatre major with a steady job.  That's sideshow material right there.

But yarr!  I got a job!   ^_^   Apparently, however, I was the last person on earth to know about it -- any flies on the wall likely laughed themselves silly.

The short of it is, I heard it through the grapevine that there was a vacancy for an American Lit teacher at my old high school.  So I threw my hat into the ring and got scheduled for an interview for Tuesday.  I should have been tipped off when the secretary flubbed and told me, "congratulations on joining us again."  I thought she had misspoke, and she hastily corrected herself.

She was so in on the joke.

Tuesday rolled around, and I had arrived about a half hour early for my interview, since I couldn't stand to be at home any longer.  My nerves were shot after a few good interviews that led nowhere -- overqualified, undereducated was the familiar refrain.   I waited for a few minutes before the vice principal popped out.    I reintroduced myself -- he was more familiar with my sister than he was with me, since he came to the school in her junior year, and I had been long gone by that point.  And so he invited me behind the office counter to get my books.

My books?  But I'm just interviewing.....

Before I knew it, he had eight textbooks in front of me and was explaining the syllabuses for my six classes.  Apparently, I looked a bit stunned, because he commented, "Don't worry, dear, it looks more intimidating than it really is."

"No, sir.  Not that.  I just realized I got the job."

The "interview" was ultimately a formality, and what it actually was new teacher orientation.  The hysterical thing about it is that my name was already on schedules that had been sent out to students two weeks ago -- almost IMMEDIATELY after I submitted my application.  I had the job for two weeks, and I never knew it.  It was in the bag. 

And everyone but me knew it -- the administration, the other teachers, the secretaries, my students (OMG, my students?!!?!).  HAHAH on me.  But I'm so bloody happy.  I'll be teaching American Literature (three levels for sophomores), AP English (my little rocket scientists -- if the school had offered it while I was there, I would have SO been in it), Creative Writing (took that , woot), and Yearbook (I was the student co-editor on mine -- just need to relearn the software).  I'm also going to be putting time into their SAT mastery course -- apparently, getting an 800 on the verbal section gets you in on that rather than hall monitor duty.  Bwahahaa.

Oh, and you know what's really nifty?  Because public transit from Rockaway is obnoxiously long (2 hours, yick), I have an arrangement with the school to live exceedingly nearby.  So I get to move out!!  Huzzah for my sanity!  It's a humble abode, but that suits me perfectly fine -- I'm opposed to conspicuous consumption.  Simple things make me happy ^_^

And I get three months off every year plus Christmas and Easter breaks -- ahahahaha. 

So I have a job, a living space, insurance (YES!), and easy access to the rest of the civilized world.  I must say, religious organizations love me to bits -- I got a lovely job when I was in England thanks to being a churchgoer at the Anglican chapel.  This time around, I was a valedictorian of a Catholic high school and I stayed in contact with a lot of good people -- did my damndest, anyway.  Interestingly enough, right after I got the Anglican chaplaincy job, Rumsfeld was out and the Democratic majority took over the Senate.  Oh, teaching at a Catholic high school MUST get you uber cookie points.  Gogogo November elections.  :D

In short, I have officially won the universe -- you may stop redeeming your boxtops. 


Such a sop
I just watched "The Girl in the Fireplace."  Again. For at least the twentieth time.  Lot of history,  a few blips, a lot of shiny objects, bit of sci fi schlock, a touch of steampunk, a little romance, and a horse.  Yes, it even has a horse. Best Who ep ever, I think. 

It's actually the first time since I tuned out from New Who about a year ago.... combination of TV and emo, I suppose.  Should do to get back into again.

Anyway -- Nos, I still ship Doctor/Reinette with my entire heart, too.  If we're failing, then we're in good company :D

I gots rage. Petite-sized rage, appropriately.
Sherlock Holmes was not a misogynist.  He was a Victorian, dammit.  I saw the Disney version of the "Basil of Baker Street" novel send-up aka "The Great Mouse Detective", and I'm actively considering breaking the Netflix disc in half.  

As much as I despise Disney as a giant corporation -- my communist soul demands that I do -- it does not prevent me from enjoying, honoring, and respecting their wares.  It's the same sort of love-hate relationship I have for Google and its useful crap and Starbucks and its yummy lattes.  Basically, I'm a lapsed communist.  Somewhere, Gorky is weeping.

I like Disney films a lot.  This past term, I must have seen Robin Hood 10 times.  I saw Captain Blood once, of course, as that's mandatory viewing for me, but Robin Hood was the supreme being this year -- and we're talking the one with singing and dancing foxes, not Errol Flynn and Basil Rathbone.  GMD had Basil in a cameo vocal form, which was somewhat gratifying.

I finally got around to seeing "The Great Mouse Detective."  Yep.  1986, Sherlock Holmes send-up based upon the novel series Basil of Baker Street.  I thought I'd love this stuff to death.  It had Vincent Price!  My beloved Basil!  Sherlock and Watson!  Toby!  Mice!  Alan Young!  Henry Mancini!

Oh, such fail.  Such big, big fail.  

I've never read the books.  I might now just to see how much fail this picture was.  The Basil in this film is a shallow impersonation of Sherlock Holmes.  They did Dr. Watson and Mrs. Hudson far better justice than my hero.  They took all the ugly characteristics of Holmes and crammed them into this character.  It's like watching the Doors movie, but at least Val Kilmer running around half-naked (and acting his leather-clad ass off) was enough to distract me.

Dr. Dawson (the Dr. Watson) is a smart...mouse I suppose.  Was about to say man, but really, this is Disney.  Anyway.  He is smart.  He is kind, and he is a gentleman, most of all.  He is not the dolt portrayed by Nigel Bruce in the serials, the one sticking point with me about the 1940s Holmes series.  Dr. Watson is not dumb -- he's a grade above everyone else when compared to Sherlock Holmes.  As the hero, Holmes ranks above them all, his only matches named in cannon to be Professor Moriarity (Rattigan here) and Irene Adler, the Woman.  Yes, he has been beaten by two other men, but Watson never names them.  


Watson can rein Holmes in and keep him civil when his temper would rule otherwise.  However, Holmes is not some misogynistic, insensitive, boorish, self-centered prima donna.  

He's a Victorian.  He is two-faced and multi-faceted.  He disapproves of drinking and drug to excess, but partakes of cocaine when driven to boredom and ennui.  He understands the class system and enjoys his aloof position in it, but constantly ignores it when pursuing a case.  He has friends all over and makes sure they do not mix -- it's not because he is embarrassed.  It is because the social differences in Victorian England were enough to be other countries.  To mix them would be unwise and unprofessional.  The rich and the poor gap was fairly wide, despite the rising middle class.    And he does not discriminate who he takes cases from.  His fees are flat, unless he decides not to charge at all -- he gets paid enough to keep his mouth shut by the royals to do charity work at his discretion.  If anything, the royals bored him and he'd refuse their cases, and yet spend weeks working on some poor person who would never pay him. 

Holmes thinks women are overcomplicated creatures (as do I), but he would never disregard them or their problems right off.  He is a gentleman, first and foremost.  It is not because he thinks they are horrible or useless -- he's the eccentric genius and while charming in his own way, he's no Casanova.  Let Watson deal with the niceties.  He admits in Doyle's canon that he has never loved anyone -- but if he did, he would be in the same position as one of his clients, desperate to avenge his beloved's death.  He is a consummate professional, and while his female clients can give him a good chase and an intriguing puzzle, once it is solved, they are not integral to his life.   Neither are the men.  He treats them the same -- non-entities after the job.  Recognition, yes, but beyond that would be unprofessional. 

Read the Veiled Lodger case, however.  Of all the cases, this is the one where Holmes breaks the rules and touches a woman to comfort her.  She'd gotten her face ripped off by a lion.  Even Holmes cannot help but be affected by her.  He feels compassion for her and is willing to help her.  Irene Adler is the only woman to ever stir anything more than that passing, intellectual interest in him -- he keeps her dirty photograph in his private files.  Even then, there are no hints that he ever pursues her, one way or another.  As to his treatment of Mrs. Hudson, Holmes was always an ideal tenant -- minus horrible smells from chemistry, shooting VR into the wall, and tacking up his post using a knife in the mantle.  However, he always repaired and paid for his misdeeds and never sassed the landlady. 

Another thing.  Basil doesn't seem to little the young girl in the film.  I'm not going to say Holmes loved kids, but they had their uses (and not the ones you're thinking of, you sicko).  Baker Street Irregulars ring a bell?  In an era of well-meaning social reform, children were still uneducated and locked out of factories; school was too expensive now that there were only parents working in the factories rather than having the eldest three work in there while the youngest three got a basic education.  Now nobody could work, and nobody could afford school.  Boys became pickpockets and petty thieves.  Girls, much the same, with the addition of prostitution.  Holmes did spend time with his contacts in opium dens and other houses of ill repute, but he hardly endorsed the corruption of children.  Holmes used the street children as informers and spies -- small size, inconspicuous in a crowded London street, and smart as whips, many of them.  He paid them better than a John would, on the Victorian scale.  It was better to be in Mr. Holmes' employ and find odd bits and bobs of information and get fed by Mrs. Hudson rather than be completely on the streets minus the point where the family would regroup. 

The true Holmes would have listened to the child, and then immediately dumped her on Mrs. Hudson, leaving them and Watson in the dust while he donned another disguise.  He would have only retrieved Watson close to the end, when he needed back-up.  The Stradivarius would never have been yanked out in front of a guest; that was his private escape, and he wouldn't play it if he thought he was going to be interrupted.  If he was, away went the violin.  No question.  No dismissal.  One man's petty theft is another's grand larceny -- do not forget the class scale differences.  When children and women were threatened, Holmes was generally pissed off.

Should someone get in his way during a case, yes, he'd bite and be an absolute jerk.  Yes, he was intelligent and flashy at times, but despite his confidence and almost arrogance, he often let Scotland Yard take credit for the good he'd done -- better to have confidence in the police than in one man. 

Sherlock Holmes himself was created because of a lack of confidence in Scotland Yard; he was birthed in the middle of the Jack the Ripper serial killings.  Sir Arthur Conan Doyle made the ultimate detective.  A gentleman, a brilliant man, a man who was not corrupt or lured by prostitutes, a man who had no professional grudges and would not pervert justice for his own gain.  He was the answer to the Jack the Ripper problem.  Sherlock Holmes the myth was a powerful enough creature back in those dark times that almost immediately, post was directed toward 221B Baker Street in the hopes that Holmes would get it and save them all from this menace that walked among them.  Saucy Jack knew their streets, their hours, their churches, and their children.  He walked among them during the day, killed the women by night. 

I could go on, but I have a 10-page paper on the subject.  If you'd like it, message me for a read. 

At any rate, loved Vincent Price as Rattigan.  The music was utterly lackluster and uncatchy.  If you're going to make the mice sing, then make them sing great.  How can you bollocks up Vincent Price?  Make him sing. Ugh.  The movie was never as dark as it should have been.  Everything suddenly becomes well-lit, despite the fact it's the dead of night in London.  Foggy, smoggy, scary London.  It should have a similar feel to the darker parts of the Lion King, Snow White in the woods, etc.  It never got there. 

Ok, vent finished.  No more GMD. 

Mission failed.
What have I gotten myself into
remember that post I made that expressed the hope that we'd make it to the sister's wedding before breaking up? War is over.

End of year round up
Doc Holliday
Been awhile since a public post was able to occur. Hell, I've been busy. Strange new world to boot. So when we last left our fearless heroine....

Senior thesis went well, my first and last time on the stage. Thank God. People were upset at the end. Granted, I never was much of an actress (and Lord how I know it), and maybe I have very little connection to the theatre itself but really. If we're peaking out now at 22, the next 60 years are fucked. I can't live like that. I didn't cry at my high school graduation (I made others cry with my valedictorian speech, cheeky monkey I was), and if I want to cry about something...I'll actually have to find something new. The old stuff doesn't do it for me anymore. Yay for scar tissue.

Speaking of which, ex-Numero Uno has repopped on the radar after a considerable absence. I don't quite know what to say to him after nearly two years of silence. I don't think anyone in my social circle does. We were all cut out when he decided to split...What can I say? "Hello, old friend" is no longer appropriate.

Appropriate? Absolutely nothing I've been up to has been appropriate. However, it has been rather fun. Huzzah for a life with no regrets. At least you can say you did it.

I'm doing it. Graduation -- Friday the 16th. I work better on the 13th, honestly. Yes, I'm walking, despite my threats of getting my $160,000 piece of paper in the mail or simply showing up dressed as V and standing atop Landman and... yeah, too many comic books this term. Bad Anna.

But yes, four years later - no more little Catholic school wallflower. I made it. What next?

Living? Yes, still. I hope. Have been doing a quick reanalysis of my existence, trying to figure out what's next. I think in the end, I still want a place to hang my hat. There should be another hat next to it, however. Always better with two. In the interim, I'd like to do more traveling. I'm thinking of getting my TEFL/TESL certificates to teach English in foreign countries for the adventure. I'm young, smart, and so fearless I'm an idiot. People love that sort of thing in their foreign workers. I figure I'll settle sooner or later to get my degree work done...unless they send me back out into the world for hands-on programming...

In short, when I grow up, I want to be Indiana Jones. With the hat. And the bullwhip...maybe not that since I'm a bit inept with weaponry, but definitely the hat. I bloody look fabulous in a good hat.

A quick ponderance on V for Vendetta
Doc Holliday
Since seeing the movie (which I greatly enjoyed), I've been reading the graphic novel from the 1980s.  Good stuff.  I've enjoyed it a lot, and so much so that I'm wondering if I'll like the movie as much if I see it again.  Just a few notes though. 

I do like V in this one.  Some people get turned off by the amount of killing V does, which is partially why they changed it for the film.  They want him to be a sympathetic character, but I feel that they could have done that better by making it very clear that V was a lab rat, and a tortured one at that.  Killing anything that gets in his path?  Fine and dandy by me.  It follows the logic of guilty by association.  It's an extremist stance; if you don't stand against them, you're for them. 

Sound familiar?

The Evey thing in this novel is striking me a bit as odd.  The fact that V tucks her in at night with a bedtime story and in a room with a stuffed bear and a dollhouse  -- perhaps I am biased by the movie's portrayal of an older Evey, but it's a bit off, especially considering what he has her do with the Bishop.  If one interprets their relationship as a love relationship, then wouldn't that make him almost as bad as the Bishop?  Then again, the age of consent in Britain has been 16 for quite awhile -- it's the equivalent to the American 18 in terms of rights and consent.  Putting that aside, I've now decided that I don't like how the movie handles the Bishop storyline.  They make it the turning point for Evey, the moment where she abandons V.  It's suggested that that is why he puts her through the prisoner experience; her disloyalty needs to be flushed out of her.  I'm interested where this point comes for the original Evey, as she goes through with helping V and only after breaks down and tells him she won't help him in such matters again. 

I still don't find Susan/Sutler a sympathetic character, but I still do like Finch, even though he is more pro-fascism than he was in the film.  I appreciate the detective attempting to unravel a mystery before it's too late.  Very Holmesian of me.

Fan fiction. Dammit.
Doc Holliday

This is sort of a continuation of that list.  I finally saw V for Vendetta two nights ago, and I enjoyed it thoroughly.  Loved it.  So of course, I go take a look-see at the fan fiction. 

In summary,  **headdesk**.

Now some are very well-written, but many suffer from the ailment of making V a Phantom of the Opera figure.  He's not.  He's an anarchist.  He doesn't do things for the obsession or love a girl.  He does them for anarchy, for the sake of ideas that aren't allowed to bloom.  The more correct parallel between the two men would be if Erik did everything for the sake of getting his opera or a group of people's opera's published, and Christine was a means to an ends.  It's almost incidental that V falls for Evey at the end; it's not in the original comic version, this overt and explicit declaration of love.  It's implied, though.  It's not the main overtone of the film either. 

Portman and Weaving are brilliant actors.  It's clear what their intentions are and what they are not. This is more of a mentor student relationship, then later a meeting of the minds.  Is it a form of love?  Yes, but not a "let's run away and have babies in Italy with a villa!!" one.  I watched a few of the special features, and yes, they did smarten up Evey a bit.  I liked that.  They made her stronger

.....ergo she should NOT be Christine-like in the least.  The mask is never a major part of her and V's relationship.  Yes, she kisses the mask at the end, but that's not a sign that she wants to rip the mask off and have babies with him.  There is no driving curiosity about what's behind the mask -- it's simply there, and it is what she recognizes him as.  If anything, I would find the kiss on the mask a sign of acceptance of THAT being his person.   As to V getting upset in the film, you'd be pissed at yourself too if you drove away your only companionship since you blew up the death camp that was using you as a lab rat.

I don't like the notion that V planned his death.  I think he knew it was up in the air.  While he was destroying the old world and building a new one, he had no specific agenda afterwards.  Anarchy first, then let God sort it out, in a way.  And even if the movie emphasized freedom rather than anarchy, he was free to fate. 

Oh, and I like sushi, surprisingly.

Addendum, 9:22 pm:  For whatever reason, when it does get down to doing the nasty, V either has it pitch black or Evey blindfolded.  Not nearly as many Erik/Christine stories have that.  Why?  cuz Erik is only half-fugly in the movie and music versions.   V is as crispy as a moth in a bug zapper, and obviously, writers can't stomach the idea of Evey getting off while looking into his face.  She can touch it and kiss it, but actually seeing?  Nevah. 

State of the Your Local Favourite Eccentric
Doc Holliday
Watching "Woman of the Year" with Katharine Hepburn and Spencer Tracy.  I figured I might as well give an update as to me, since it seems my updates are either of the emo or trivial nature.

I'm a bit overloaded with work at the moment.  As usual, give that it is senior year and that I've been quite the lazy bum, not sleeping until all weird hours --  6 am, namely.  I'll likely stay up all through tonight to be able to make my 9 am class.  Such is life.   But yah, I'm still alive, at least. 

I have a paper due tomorrow at 11 pm as well as a scene to write and a bit more to read from Elridge Cleaver's Soul on Ice.  I also need to pen 10 pages for a scene.  I have a nice little idea, and it won't take too long to hammer it out.  I think.   I hope. Ah, well.  I won't fuss about it.  I'm just in a very relaxed mood at the moment.  Not fussed.  I should be, but eh. 

Stage combat -- I'm in constant flux as to whether or not I should drop the course this term.  I'm just stressed about adjudication and fucking it up for others.  I enjoy everyone in there, but ... admittedly, someone said something to me, bitching about someone else and now I'm concerned as to what's been said about me -- a dog that can fetch a bone can also carry it.  Social anxiety as to whether I'm actually liked or simply tolerated. 

Again, such is life. This life, anyway. 

I can't afford to worry about a lot right now.  I knew going in that being unemployed might be part of life, so the writer's strike hasn't fazed me.  Now that it's over, I'll start sniffing around, seeing what I can do as a script reader or a secretary or something.  Unlike my roomies, the jobs will probably be for "immediate start" -- so I can' really look til Mayish anyway.  Scientists look for assistants a season or so in advance.  I have a wedding or two in June, so that's killing that entire month.  So July will probably be my job start date.  In the interim, I'll likely be temping in Jersey or doing the medical transcription gig for awhile. 

Any advice or ideas? 

And really, when I do ask a question as to advice, I do like answers. 


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