I know I haven’t updated in ages. I suck at the online presence thing. Most of my life, would you believe, takes place outside of Twitter and Facebook. I know. Such a Luddite.
But after some prodding from a friend, who is the only one who regularly reads my blog apart from J (who can’t help but see it when it shows up in his update feed) here I am. I have two weeks off work and while my free time is filling up fast, I should be able to fit in some blogging. And writing.
With that in mind, please enjoy the following video. I have known about 2Cellos for a while but this video in particular had Rivka and I in fits over breakfast. We couldn’t help but notice their resemblance to the Winchester brothers from Supernatural and this led to me thinking about an amazing end of era plot twist: Sam and Dean are concert cellists in the NY Philharmonic where their dad is the musical director. They are so bored by their lives spent touring the US that they invent a Walter Mitty style alternate life for themselves where they tour the US killing demons. So there they are in the orchestra playing on autopilot but both staring out into space because they’re in some shared delusion where they are drenched in blood and spreading salt all over the place. With guns! And Bobby! And pie!
So Rivka suggested I write the fanfic to go with it. I don’t often write fanfic and if I do get round to it I will not be sharing it here, but it’s nice to be feeling creative.
After that musical interlude, let me share with you a tale of rage. I thought I’d mentioned this before but I couldn’t find it anywhere so maybe I was too upset about it. A couple of months ago, I was part of a quiz we did at lunchtime. It all sort of spiralled out of control, but someone dared to imagine they knew more about Harry Potter than I did. That. Shall. Not. Stand. Then a couple more people got involved so we ended up all making up five questions and having a round robin quiz thing. I lost, and did not cope very well with it. I don’t like failure, as you may remember, and failing at something that was Knowledge-based nearly killed me. It threw off my whole weekend, and I know how ridiculous it seems to be so hung up on something that is so unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but I say again I do not deal well with failure on any scale.
WELL, last week I was at a party with one of the other quiz participants, who revealed to me that there had been some cheating. The other two people making up questions had shared their questions and answers beforehand, reasoning (quite correctly) that if they hadn’t they would have lost miserably. I was raging. My disproportionate rage matched my disproportionate depression at losing. It really shook me up. Something I took seriously was treated like a joke to everyone else. So I felt just as humiliated and like people were laughing at me as I did the first time. On the other hand I was vindicated!
And at the end of the day their questions were rubbish and not at all plot related. And half of them were film related. So they were doing it wrong from the very beginning. Double win.
Time to make myself presentable. And listen to more cello. Happy Saturday, beautiful people.