THING 1: Just submitted the very last of my grad school application materials about five minutes ago. I now feel I could CONQUER THE WORLD.

THING 2: Just accidentally typed CONQUEER THE WORLD and liked it so much I was tempted not to correct it. It's like the Gay Agenda, only with a little extra Alexander the Great.

STUFF 1: Last week my little computer that could wheezed its last computery breath. There is still some hope of its resurrection (thanks to tricksterquinn and her awesomeness) but right now I've just got to wait and see. Despite an initial freakout, I'm coping weirdly well. Last time I lost a computer, I was practically catatonic; maybe I'm growing as a person?

THING 3: Probably not.

STUFF 2: So I've never exactly stayed awake nights wondering whether I would be Sorted into Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, but in conversations I've had about these things with like-minded folks, there has been no question that I belong in one of these two. When we used to debate these things at Borders (a wonder we went out of business, really) Hufflepuff was the general consensus for me, which I found rather flattering, but my college friends told me I was a Ravenclaw or nothing else. (Which is sort of hilarious, given the fact that these conversations usually took place when I should have been studying.) But no one - myself included - ever doubted that those were my two options.

Then yesterday, J.K. Rowling Sorted me into Griffindor.

THING 4: Seriously, you guys. I don't even know who I am anymore.

MY MOTHER SAYS: "Are you sure they don't just Sort everyone into Griffindor? 'Cause otherwise, that just doesn't make sense."

JUST FINISHED MOCKINGJAY. AM DEAD OF FEELINGS.

So. This happened:



All right. So, judging by the trailer, we are in very familiar territory, Sorkinly speaking. The Newsroom looks a bit like Sports Night stole Studio 60's format and production budget and then went out dancing in West Wing's borrowed gravitas. I don't mean that as a criticism; on the contrary, I'm delighted. As much as I love The West Wing, I think Sports Night is the best of Sorkin's shows. It has none of Studio 60's smug plastic cleverness and very few of The West Wing's bad habits in continuity and characterization, and because most of Sorkin's writing tics and repetitions (what kind of day has it been, Mr. Sorkin?) first turned up there, they tend to be slightly less distracting and artificial.

Of course, it's impossible to know now just how much like Sports Night Newsroom will be. (Though, according to wikipedia, the show Jeff Daniels' character anchors is called News Night. I'm just saying.) But based on past Sorkin experience, I'd bet that a trained eye could tell you a lot about The Newsroom from what what we see in that trailer.

( walk and talk with me, people. )

 

Writing my statement of objectives for an MLS grad school application. Hold me.

ETA: MLS does not stand for Major League Soccer.

ETA again: I mean, it does, but not in this context.

ETA for the last time: In this context it stands for Masters of Library Science.

LINK TO AMAZING COMMUNITY PROMO THAT FOR SOME REASON I CANNOT EMBED

NBC. 8 PM, March 15th. There will never be another moment like it.



Also: In considerably less pressing news, I just broke 50,000 words on the AU Sherlock fic that wouldn't die. That doesn't mean much considering how far I still have to go, but I kinda wanted to brag anyway.

Yeah, baby. Lots o' words. I got 'em.

Terrible news:

I was driving my poor (mostly) blind mother to the bank today (don't feel sorry for her; as will soon be revealed, she's an awful person and doesn't deserve it) and we were chatting happily about tater tots and Jeopardy and asbestos - you know, normal mother-daughter stuff - and out of nowhere she says, "I do like the way you wear your bangs these days, but isn't it sort of - oh, what's that word. That thing people call you that you hate."

YOU GUYS. MY MOTHER CALLED ME A FUCKING HIPSTER.

So I kicked her out of the car and drove away, blasting Bon Iver on my stereo and smoking a handrolled clove cigarette.

And now, in slightly better news:

A Doctor Who and Sherlock meme filched from mrv3000 and muneca_brava, because these are the fandoms of my soul.  

( seriously, though. I'm really not a hipster.  )

1. Saw The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo yesterday at my local temple of celluloid worship cineplex. While I upsold the book like a pro at Borders (god rest its soul), I've never actually read past the first few chapters; I think that may be why I ended up enjoying the movie as much as I did. It was hardly perfect, and one scene in particular did scar me for life a bit, but once I realized it was more or less a Swedish-ish fem!Sherlock/Bond!John case fic, I was able to relax and enjoy and be scarred for life yet again by yet another scene. Hooray for cinema!

( ten more things below the cut. they are all fascinating. )

NEW SHERLOCK TODAY. FREAKING OUT. PLEASE COME FREAK OUT WITH ME SO I WILL NOT BE FREAKING OUT ALONE.



When I close my eyes, this is all I see. That's probably a sign that I should start drinking now.

(No spoilers for the ep itself, please - spoilers through Hound and for The Final Problem allowed and encouraged.)

ETA: You guys, it's snowing in Portland! IT'S A SHERLOCK MIRACLE.

Stolen from tricksterquinn:

Pick up the nearest book to you.
Turn to page 45. The first sentence describes your sex life in 2012.

Oh holy god:

"Aunt Petunia found a few moldy blankets in the second room and made up a bed for Dudley on the moth-eaten sofa," from Harry Fucking Potter and the Sorcerer's Motherfucking Stone.

That's it. I never want to have sex again.