Wallpaper

wallpaper

this is the wallpaper in the downstairs bathroom of my parent's house. I have always liked it.  one thing always confused me:

the beaufort sea is always displayed this way. the "b" on the edge of one sheet and the "eaubord sea" on the edge of another. I never knew if they lined up like that on purpose or if was just the way the metaphorical cookie crumbled, the way the map unfurled, as it were.

granted, I was never so concerned that I looked it up. the question only occurred to me when I was in the bathroom. and considering that I have spent very little time at my parent's house the last 1-2 years, the quarry was virtually absent from my mind. 

but recently I find myself under their roof once again for an extended period of time, an extended period of time which has brought this quarry once again into the glistening pools of questions in my brain. so I looked it up. indeed, the beaufort sea is real. according to wikipedia it is:

a marginal sea of the Arctic Ocean,   located north of the Northwest Territories, the Yukon, and Alaska and west of Canada's Arctic islands. The sea is named after hydrographer Sir Francis Beaufort. The major Mackenzie River empties into the Canadian part of the sea, west of Tuktoyaktuk, which is one of the few permanent settlements on the sea shores.

well, wasn't that interesting. another point of interest: my home town has signs warning drivings of possible turtle crossings.

today was the opening for my show! it went wonderfully! now I have a lot of sleep to catch up on.

Moriarty & the Priest

(This will contain spoilers for the second season of Fleabag)

So, I discovered the fic These Violent Delights by @pasiphile (and its accompanying stories) last year and it was incredible. I have loved Andrew Scott’s Jim Moriarty since the freaking pool scene and just devoured the world that @pasiphile has created. Truly spectacular. It’s canon as far as I’m concerned.

Then I saw that Andrew Scott was playing a character in the show Fleabag so I watched a clip on youtube from the show (of him and Fleabag making out by a confessional) and I thought, “I have to watch this show.” 

So, I watched it. And it was beautiful. Bittersweet. I started watching the second season again and this thought popped into my brain (and I can’t have been the first to think this):

What if, after Jim “died,” he spent the ensuing time (before his resurrection) becoming a priest? 

(Now, I like to consider myself to be a fanfic reader of discerning taste. In any crossover fic there has to be a believable reason for the crossover. I’m pretty good with the whole “expansion of disbelief” thing, but there are limits.)

So, here’s how it would work: 

Jim “kills” himself on the roof of the hospital and he needs to lie low for awhile. He needs to distance himself from Seb because while the rest of the world may be ignorant of Seb’s existence, the criminal world is rife with information (all rumors and hearsay because Jim is nothing if not thorough) and they can’t be seen together (or even rumored to be seen together) until Jim’s ready for the next stage of his plan to commence. What’s he gonna do in the interim? He’s not going to be himself, that’s for sure. And a priest is pretty far removed from consulting criminal, so why not go to seminary? 

He’s ordained and is sent to a perish and that is where we enter the Fleabag universe (yeah, we might be getting a bit timey-whimey, get over it). One thing he forgot was how Seb helped ground him in reality. Without him (and his Web) it is easy to get lost in a character. He’s molded himself into this foulmouthed priest and people are drawn to him - they can’t help themselves. Jim’s magnetism is a lot harder to hide, easier to do for smaller characters, and he makes it work for the priest. He meets this woman, this beautifully tragic woman who doesn’t fit in with the rest of the world - her resonance doesn’t quite match up. 

(I love that, in the show, the Priest is the only one who notices Fleabag’s 4th wall breaks. That is such a Jim thing - after all, the Priest may not be Jim but Jim is the Priest and he can never fully turn off his brain. Of course he’s going to notice someone slipping away here and there.)

Jim loves chaos, he thrives in it - it’s never chaotic for him - and he revels in the chance to see what chaos this woman will cause. He reads her easily, unconsciously, the mask falling away as if it were never there. There’s so much grief and fear and guilt and loneliness - it’s intoxicating.

(At the dinner scene in the restaurant, when Fleabag asks if he is a real priest, she surprises him. He can count on one finger the number of people who have done that. But Jim is Jim and his mask stays up. Yes, he is a real priest. But, darling, he doesn’t say, I’m so much more.)

Jim enjoys making her fall in love with him, pretending to be so vulnerable and so human. It’s beautiful and, despite being predictable, it’s the most fun he’s had since before the trial - before he began to lose himself in Rich Brook and before he started distancing himself from Seb. And for a moment Jim’s irreversibly furious at Seb for turning him into such a romantic idiot. But that’s the Priest, not Jim. Jim doesn’t love. Jim owns. 

(When their drinking G&Ts in his garden and he tells her they’re not going to have sex he knows he’s lying. He also wishes that he could convince her to drop it. He doesn’t really like sex - this stint as a priest is hardly his first go of celibacy. [Seb is the exception, of course, but that had more to do with Seb than Jim.] But then he get’s a bit bored and messes with his own plan and has her bear her soul to him in the confessional. For a second he’s Jim Moriarty again, commanding his subjects to kneel. He can see how uncomfortable this makes her, how vulnerable she is. And he almost laughs. But instead he drags the Priest back up and the Priest kneels before he and kisses her. It really is luck that brings the painting crashing to the ground.

In the end, they do have sex. Of course they do. Even she knew they would. And it’s…not his worst sexual experience. She’s not Seb, so the emotion she’s practically suffocating him with is uncomfortable. But she’s stopped slipping away quite as much when she’s with him. Interesting…and a bit disappointing.

He notices it at the wedding. Her resonance is not quite as off as it use to be. She’s a bit less out of step with the everyone else around her. And he’s so disappointed. She’s so ordinary now. But he knew it would end like this, of course.)

He leaves, pretends to be heartbroken about it, pretends to love her, even manages to shed a few tears. But he has an empire to get back to, a right hand to whip into shape, and a pair of brothers to destroy once and for all. 

He leaves, because that’s what people do. 

So, this is happening... part 2!

Because part 1 was exceedingly long and lacking in general amusement I have decided to put together a list of things I have done over the past three weeks to stave off boredom while on lorazepam.

Things I Have Done Over the Last Three Weeks to Stave Off Boredom While on Lorazepam:

  watch seasons 1-3 of "Game of Thrones".

read the first 370 pages of the book A Game of Thrones, decide to get back to it after I'm finished being interrupted by other things

watch "Orange is the New Black" on Netflix

play a crap-load of of "The Secret Society-Hidden Mystery" on my iPad (level 96 at the moment, what what!)

rediscover the joy of British panel shows

watch a lot of British panel shows

at one point I watched Mission Impossible 3

collect all 8 badges from the gym leaders, defeat the elite four, defeat my rival, and beat Pokemon Blue on gameboy

not wear a bra 99.9% of the time

shower infrequently

get a good night's sleep more often than not

spend a lot of time with my cat (when she's willing)

spend hours on BuzzFeed, trying to keep up with the "relevant news"

there's probably more that I'm forgetting. I'll call it "other forgettable mind excursions."

At least I've never been the type of person who worries/thinks about the future. I've always been more of the "be here now" type. That, I've found, is conductive with my current comings and goings (metaphorically, because you shouldn't drive while on lorazepam).

blah blah blah

I'm graduating from college this saturday.

so insert some sentimental dribble about these last four years being incredible and all the people that I met are amazing and I'll never forget anyone and blah blah blah.

one great thing about graduating with a degree in art: first major to receive diplomas/empty folder. I will be the 8th name called.

one not so great thing about graduating with a degree in art: what am I going to do?

I have something to admit. I am really hesitant about breaking the status quo that has been established as of late. the status quo being living with my parents and working in retail. and that hesitation, my dislike of change, is prohibiting me from making art, moving forward. why am I hesitating? nothing original. I am scared. terrified that once someone gives me a chance I'll blow it and no one will give me a second thought. I'm scared that I'm not good enough to be a real artist. I can be an art student at a small liberal art school with a very supportive team of professors surrounded by friends and people in the same situation. that is easy. this is hard.