i write, you read

Welcome to the soiree!

This shall henceforth be the virtual home of Cassi, a twenty-something year old writer with a day job at a photo lab, a bad habit of writing about herself in the third person, and a slightly haunted house.

She no longer wears Mardi Gras beads or old lady sunglasses, but she does still look fairly stupid in photographs.

It probably goes without saying that she is not actually a captain, but she owns a hat and a coat, so what the hell.

Is this adequate information? Surely it is. Nobody actually reads these things.

...nipple.

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Catching Elephant is a theme by Andy Taylor

 

So I just finished watching The Reichebach Fall… again. This makes it a total of six times. I realise this is a high number. I do not care. This time, my best friend and flatmate, Steph, watched it with me. This was her second viewing—which she volunteered for—and ordinarily she hates watching TV shows, or even movies, more than once. When she suggested it, I was so psyched that I had been successful in creating another Sherlockian that I ran from my room, and stubbed my toe on the door frame. It was teeth-grittingly agonizing, as toe-stubbing tends to be, but I knew that the pain radiating through my foot was nothing compared to the emotional anguish that I was about to endure. Again. With the DVD in the player, and a cushion specifically for hugging, I braced myself for the impending tears. I spent about 90% of the episode nearly bursting because I could hardly contain all the feelings. Finally in that last scene at the cemetery when John’s limp has come back (just barely, but it’s noticeable) I couldn’t hold back any longer and let out this horrible sob. I crushed my hug-cushion over my own face to disguise it, but then I remembered that Steph has seen me at my absolute worst and figured that this was nowhere near as embarrassing or humiliating as half of the situations she has found me in. I removed the cushion and mumbled a lot of stuff about how I had too many feelings but I’m somewhat certain that it all came out as incoherent blubbering. But the limp. Oh, god. It just kills me. After all this time, it’s back. He’s broken. He’s just in so much pain oh god I just asdfgshdjfklkks I’m a mess right now. To look at me you’d think someone just killed my puppy, not that a character on a TV show I like has re-developed a psychosomatic limp. Anyway, now I’ve come to my room to “go to sleep” but in reality I’m going to watch Star Trek because all these John feelings are going to stop me from sleeping if I don’t watch something else to unwind. I just… I have Reichenbach feelings and I can’t get up. Send help.

So I just finished watching The Reichebach Fall… again. This makes it a total of six times. I realise this is a high number. I do not care.

This time, my best friend and flatmate, Steph, watched it with me. This was her second viewing—which she volunteered for—and ordinarily she hates watching TV shows, or even movies, more than once. When she suggested it, I was so psyched that I had been successful in creating another Sherlockian that I ran from my room, and stubbed my toe on the door frame. It was teeth-grittingly agonizing, as toe-stubbing tends to be, but I knew that the pain radiating through my foot was nothing compared to the emotional anguish that I was about to endure. Again.

With the DVD in the player, and a cushion specifically for hugging, I braced myself for the impending tears. I spent about 90% of the episode nearly bursting because I could hardly contain all the feelings.

Finally in that last scene at the cemetery when John’s limp has come back (just barely, but it’s noticeable) I couldn’t hold back any longer and let out this horrible sob. I crushed my hug-cushion over my own face to disguise it, but then I remembered that Steph has seen me at my absolute worst and figured that this was nowhere near as embarrassing or humiliating as half of the situations she has found me in. I removed the cushion and mumbled a lot of stuff about how I had too many feelings but I’m somewhat certain that it all came out as incoherent blubbering.

But the limp. Oh, god.

It just kills me. After all this time, it’s back. He’s broken. He’s just in so much pain oh god I just asdfgshdjfklkks

I’m a mess right now. To look at me you’d think someone just killed my puppy, not that a character on a TV show I like has re-developed a psychosomatic limp.

Anyway, now I’ve come to my room to “go to sleep” but in reality I’m going to watch Star Trek because all these John feelings are going to stop me from sleeping if I don’t watch something else to unwind.

I just… I have Reichenbach feelings and I can’t get up. Send help.

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