commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Criminal Minds)
So, somebody prompted The reason why Mycroft and Sherlock don't get along is because, when he was desperate to quit cocaine/heroin (not sure what's the usual canon drug here) and asked Mycroft for help, all his brother did was lock him in a clinic and not bother to visit or call for months, even though Sherlock often tried to reach him on the kinkmeme.

I was going to comment with this, just noting how interested I was in her prompt because my head!canon is almost the exact opposite, but then it got long and idk if it even makes sense because it's almost past 5am, and whatever I can get between now and 7:30 is all I anticipate sleeping in the next 30 hours so I can't be arsed to look at it any more to make it more clear.

But basically, this is an idea I've had for a really long time, and something I'd like to write into a stand-alone fic/work into an existing in-progress fic/something at some point for BBC Sherlock, because it all really makes sense to me to explain the Mycroft/Sherlock feud and how lopsided it is (Mycroft is genuinely concerned; Sherlock won't even text him back). Sure, it might all be explained away by the sheer resentment you would expect with a brain-driven younger sibling whose older brother is better at people, and being accepted into society, and not becoming addicted to things like a common junkie, and even brainwork (which would be the real insult), but my head!canon likes to combine Sherlock getting clean-but-not-really with their rocky relationship.

Sometimes, you may really need help, and once you're past whatever, you don't really want to go back to the way things were, but being forced into treatment/getting help/whatever when you weren't ready, when it wasn't your decision can cause this resentment to build up for the person who did the forcing. It's fed by the misery/withdrawal/horribleness of the early days of treatment because you're sure things wouldn't be this bad if you were still in the throes of it, and it's allowed to fester over weeks of forced therapy and being treated like a child or a convict with rules and restrictions and no trust whatsoever. You come out of the other side healthier and possibly happier and on top of everything you owe that person your life because they saved it when you didn't want to be saved, and even though you may acknowledge that you're better off now, you fixate on how it should have been your choice and sometimes there's no salvaging that relationship.

Sherlock knew he needed to get clean if only for the work, because otherwise he wouldn't be able to take on police cases. Once he was, he stayed clean (even though his flat isn't--it's both a test of his own willpower and because to be honest, he doesn't really care that much if he goes back under), but he could have done it himself. Now, instead of getting to prove that to himself, he's spent ages in withdrawal and being treated like a child and patronized by two-bit counselors with a certificate from a semester of night school, and it's all Mycroft's fault.

For someone like Sherlock whose self-determinacy is such an important facet of his character, being forced into rehab (and we know God Mycroft could do it, not by brotherly influence but by tugging on the appropriate strings) would be an egregious affront to his person. I don't think they've ever had a particularly great relationship because of aforementioned general resentment from the "Mycroft is smarter/better/more social/nicer/not a junkie/did I mention smarter" type of thing, but Mycroft forcing Sherlock into rehab was the straw that broke the camel's back. They may couch it in cute sibling-ness like "arch-enemy" and little passive-aggressive things like not returning phone calls, and they're not bursting out into shouting fits because they've had a few years to calm down, but my head!canon has much of the underlying resentment (especially considering the shape of the dynamic we saw, with Mycroft's sincere caring about his brother and Sherlock rebuffing it) coming from this type of situation.
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
Got an email from my Biomolecular Interactions professor telling everybody to sign up for the online class. . . idk, document repository and grade report thing. It's still got stuff from last year up, which I'm pulling off and looking at (from fall as well as spring, which leads me to hope that he leaves at least one of them up all year for studying purposes) and this guy looks pretty awesome. I'm excited. It's my major's department, the same one as the genetics class from last fall that I loved (though a lot of that was because I love genetics as a topic), and there seems to be quite a variance in teaching methods in the syllabus. Papers, quizzes, tests, articles to bring home and read, group work (blech on that one, if only because I tend to fail at. . . making friends), some thing entitled "service project," which really intrigues me.

--thought sidetrack ("That would have been hard last year; I'll have to have a car to do any kind of service anywhere.") I do not know what (if!) car I'm taking to Springfield. Except that it's not the van nor either of my parents' cars. Which means it's the red car, which, while I love it, cannot do highways for extended periods of time. I jog from one exit by the Walmart to the next by my house sometimes on the highway just so I don't have to deal with traffic lights, and it's not happy getting up to 60. Most of that drive to school is 70, and I'll be damned if it's going to take me 8385673 hours because I have to take backroads. Plus, no cruise control. Plus, (and this is the biggest plus) no air conditioning. And I can't exactly open the windows on the highway unless I want to get negative 48 mpg.

I was rather seriously looking into if it would go on the Cash for Clunkers barely-masked-extra-auto-industry-bailout thing that I'm paying $3 billion into, but no. Even though in practical driving (I've measured) it gets comparatively shitty gas mileage (for that little thing. I wonder if something's wrong, because Dad says he's gotten mid 30s when he was driving it when we first got it, but all I get is 22), it's not shitty enough according to their records. And because of this hugely popular car trade-in program, nobody'll give me anything for it for a good while until after the program's done. Oh, and plus it's not actually my car, so it's not like the parentals would let me keep any money I got from trading it in. Details.

--end thought sidetrack. *scrolls up to read what the hell she was actually talking about*
Oh yes. Besides the fact that the lab is back to back with my organic chemistry lab (fuck. me.) adding up to my 9 to 6 or 7 school day on Mondays, it looks interesting. I'm the kind of kid that's always been fine with the straight up lecture courses if you make me interested (meaning the plethora of amazing history teachers I've had), but the stuff I really retain? Let's look at the abnormal psych course that I got some 99% in this spring without buying the book much less reading it, all because I had fun in my AP psych class 3.5 years prior. A bit less so, but ditto to 2 years ago's AP economics that I remember much more than I ever would have expected (meaning. . . more than 0. I'm not good with it, but I can tell that it would take 15 seconds of refresher to bring it all back) considering that I couldn't give a flying fruitbat about econ and was only taking it because I'd pretty much exhausted the school's offerings and it was the only prerequisite-less AP course I hadn't yet taken.

As usual, this was a few days ago. New stuff.

I met Ianto!kitten and he is adorable. [ profile] bleakone and my house is going to be a freaking menagerie. Yay for this.

I got some of the most awesome shoes ever today. AND THEY DON'T FIT. So pissed off, as that was the only size they had in the store and natch, my sister got one too and they fit her. Going to have to try to shop them around to the other branches (dad says the storelady said that there were three of the same stores within 15 miles, though he got them in the first place so I couldn't even tell you what store it was) and try to swap up. They're like Chucks or whatnot, that canvasy style, in black, BUT KNEE HIGH BOOTS. It's like 10th Doctor went through a sex change machine and all his clothes got changed as well, this is how awesome. And they're $80-something normally and he bought them for $30, which is way more than I would ever, ever spend on shoes, but Dad gets pissed off when I talk about returning things he bought for me because he thinks I don't like it rather than it's just me being obsessively cheap, so after he huffed for the first time I quickly made it seem that it was just because they didn't fit rather than because OMG$30SHOES and that they didn't fit, hence why I now have to look up where those other stores are. And hope he didn't pitch the receipt (like usual). Kind of hard to look up when I have no idea where, though, so that'll have to wait.

Also spent the better part of the last few days looking for cars on Craigslist. Emailed a couple of people, and here's a shoutout to the lady that was all honest-like and told me that the car she had wasn't for me (I mentioned that I was leaving in a few weeks) because though the part it needed replaced was a cheap replacement (which was all my googling had found me re: the problem the listing said it had), it was lodged between the engine and the transmission, so not an easy fix. I like that she told me that so much that I kind of want to show the listing+email to dad and ask him what he thinks--he fixes all of the cars everything by himself (plus the kids as his bitches, naturally), so it might not be impossible, and I think it was otherwise a decent car for like $700.

ETA: Oh, except that I deleted the email yesterday and it's not in my trash anymore. Oh well. Cheaper to just put a cruise control on the red car like I want to.

There was a millipede (or some such many-legged fellow) on my bed a moment ago. Such are the perils of living in the basement. So I caught it and stuck it in a plastic bag that was within arm's reach. And bit some air holes in the very top and set it down to show people in the morning. Only to realize a few minutes later that it turns out I didn't need the air holes anyway, as half of one side of the bag was split open. So now there's a millipede on my floor somewhere. If it crawls anywhere on my body, though, I cannot be responsible for what my reflexes do.
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
I'm benching for the moment the issue that I will probably at some time need to broach in more detail regarding how I've royally fucked my life by somehow cutting my average microbiology test score in half on the last exam, turning my grade from just-a-few-more-points-till-an-A to if-I-drop-a-few-more-points-I'll-have-a-D which in turn will have the drastic effect of there being a very good chance I won't be back in the fall as I'll lose my scholarship.

So I wrote this paper for abnormal psych that's basically a mini case report on a fictional character. I did Olivia Benson, and really wish I'd had more time and more pages (I hit 10 already, LOL, when I think most people were closer to 4, though admittedly I had two pages of cleverly doctored [rather brutally with Paint, as I don't have Photoshop installed on my new hard drive yet] images of Olivia's psychological test results) to delve more into her character. As it was, I ended up missing microbiology (yeah, I know; in my defense, this was prior to seeing my last test score) and being late to psych today (yesterday, I suppose) morning finishing it up because I started out trying to do the episode research and double check every fact I remembered about her background because the paper-writing-fiend in me felt like I needed citations (none of which actually got saved into the final paper because I didn't want to break character, of sorts, as the therapist).

Also taking up more time than I expected to spend on the paper was the fact that I sort of changed where in SVU canon I was setting the fake therapy sessions--I put it vaguely after the "PTSD" episode, saying that she'd really realized there was a problem then and that her passive participation in group wasn't going to cut it and approached Huang for a referral for more intense help. In my big page of notes I'd already done way back in February or so (why I thought that this would take an hour, two at the most), I didn't take into account the "PTSD" epsisode much and put more emphasis on her reticence to open up due to perceiving the evaluating psychologist as a threat to her job (which I mentioned, but only shortly and accompanying the notation that she requested the referral on her own behalf).

But all of it. . . idk, I just feel like I could have explained my analysis of her behavior and reactions and such so much better. Not within the format he gave us, really, but if I'd had more leeway to add in notes from fictional individual sessions or something. The biggest part I felt that I got in there but didn't express/explain very well was the whole issue of how though she can objectively acknowledge that she was a victim of a sex crime, she was sort of cavalier about needing help, not taking the group therapy she was doing prior to "PTSD" seriously because she sees so many attacks that are so much more brutal every day and can dissociate and reflect on her symptoms and what she should be feeling but doesn't let herself actually *feel* them because so much of her identity is as a helper, not a victim.

I was very proud, however, of how many references to her unresolved issues with Alex I managed to work in, LOL. Again, I would have put that in there so many more times had I not been short on time (compounded by the forced delay caused by the asshole who decided it would be a fun April Fools' prank to grease the staircases and pull the fire alarm at 3am) and working from a given outline. I think somehow I lost a paragraph somewhere, though, because I was flipping back through it this afternoon and couldn't find the bit I swore I wrote (maybe just imagined and planned to write but never got around to?) where I explained more explicitly the halving of Olivia's social network (meaning Alex and Elliot) caused by Alex's entry into the WPP and her feelings of rejection due to the fact that not only did Alex abandon her but then not even try to reconnect upon her return to be bureau chief. Still, I got decidedly more explicit with my HoYay references as the paper progressed to the point that at the end, I came out and said in the case outcome bit that "a joint session with ADA Cabot made significant inroads into resolving mutual feelings regarding their relationship". Perceivable as platonic, yes, but in a Xena subtext way more than an SVU HoYay way, if that makes sense to anyone but me.

As it's vaguely like a fic, I'll prolly post it just for fun, but the reason I started typing this post up was to lead into the fact that while doing research for it, Google sent me to a really good (really long--I finished the parts 1-5 block a bit ago and that was 70 pages in itself, and I think it goes to 26 or so) SVU fic called "Conflict of Interest", in which a reference to the statute of limitations for rape sent me back to Google to find out what said limitations were for the different states. I found this chart (PDF) and started reading through it only to be caught up short on Arizona. Rape is a class 2 felony (without modifying circumstances, a first offense punishable by 5 years, OMGWTF). Marital rape? Class 6. First offense punishment is one year. Holy shit. Spousal rapists are required to register as sex offenders, though, which is better than I expected, but still. That's horrid. I wish to move to Arizona just to campaign against this bullshit.

Assume similar indignation for all the other states and their criminally short statutes of limitation/lengths of incarceration/ludicrous determinations that some rapes aren't as bad as others because you know the perp. Shall go back to reading through it now, because though I was really tired right after dinner (meaning when I got back to my room a bit before midnight), the combination of this good fic and the potential for learning, OMGYAY, has popped me pretty darn awake. Plus, Chelsea was snoring.

One last thing. OMG ER FINALE TOMORROW. And I'm really supposed to go to the pre-law fraternity meeting during the first hour of it, but I think not because I'm not missing this. I'm kinda sad because I've been watching it forever and it's the one through which I discovered the miracles of internet fandom, and it's ending, but it is time--I still watched it only really out of the afore-insinuated feelings of loyalty to it; though it always has its moments of really kickassery, it frankly hasn't been that good for a while now, especially when you're comparing it to how good the beginnings were. Still. There might be tears.
commotiocordis: Green on black, an animated depiction of a normal heart rhythm on an ECG monitor. (Default)
Okay, that's not fair. I was at 99% on one of the clips when it says the connection to the server reset. And now none of them on that page will work. (I actually tried them all this time.) So I went over the bandwidth with one byte to go.

So (writing this down for the sole purpose of letting myself know where I need to start next time) I still need to get summersgrace, surprised, twinkle and twinkle2, youcall2 through 4, and ispeech.

I've got only one page in the second part of my english paper, but I think that's going to be good enough. She's checking the individual parts, and it's worth a lot of points, but the actual paper isn't due until next week or so. And I've got 3 US History paragraphs to write on a really long document and a Psych reading quiz. But psych I can fake. Because we're on the Abnormal Psych section. And it's all about diseases and treatments. And I have most of those diseases. Plus, the whole medical thing, just like the anatomy section was, it's all kind of my field.

*Minor freakout*
We have to do our Solo and Ensemble pieces for the class on Friday. In front of a judge I can do, but in front of the class? I'm still out of tune a lot. And just generally bad at the piece. And most of my friends in orchestra are in the quartet, so it's not even a bunch of friendly faces. They're hostile and mean. (Have I mentioned that I really don't like most of the people in orchestra?)

And somebody's watch alarm just went off in the front room. I've never noticed that before. It must have just gotten set. Because I'm up at this time a lot, I think I would have heard it before. Kinda annoying. There, it shut off.

So I'm going to print my paper, email it to all my email addresses (I'm not risking not having it for 3 days in a row like last time), put my Handcuffs story on, and read the history document in bed.

But before that, I'm going to take a slight detour to mention that the stretch marks I have all over from gaining 30 pounds in a month last summer (And the same thing happened the year before. In 14 months I gained 55 pounds.) have been really dark lately. I'm hoping that doesn't mean that I'm stretching more. Because that would suck. But I've only been to the gym twice in two weeks, so I'm not exactly preventing the gain of more weight.

Edit: and before that, I'm going to make an icon. Somewhat belated, as I already did. I'm still not happy with the font, though. It doesn't fit with what I was trying to do.

December 2014

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