In any case, he has some minutes now so that should shut him up for a bit...
Then I ventured online to try and find out the address of my graduate account branch, to put on the job acceptance form that I was planning on sending off today. Graduate accounts are controlled through Direct Accounts, which I finally remembered as being based in Swansea. I rang up the phonebank service to see if they could tell me, and the Indian-sounding woman on the phone, who called herself 'Lisa', gave me an address in Peterborough... I found another address in Swansea that was on the same road but didn't look the same, so eventually gave up and put the general Lloyds TSB address.
Payroll already HAVE my details, anyway, so it shouldn't be much of a problem. Except, after all this searching, I then discovered I'd left the address to send the damn thing to at home. So I'll have to do it tomorrow. Bugger.
Yesterday was also fairly horrible at work; despite the fact Sandra can see my vast pile of work, she still told Ivy to give the reconvening invites to me to do. Ivy refused, bless her. I'm going to email Tina Hartland after I go with two specific instructions: "Look after Ivy; she's been working really hard and needs al ot of support, but she'll get there in the end" and "Don't let Sandra bully the new typist." Anyway, due to the horribleness Paul and I went to Bella Italia, which, since the refurb, is a lot more efficient. Their lasagne is to die for. And they do Real Coke. Always a good thing in my book. Mmm.
The subject's in the wrong order, really, as here's the pondering.
This morning, on the bus, I started thinking about fanfic. I have no idea why, really... I think it stemmed from a very random train of thought whereby, reading the Metro article about Warner Bros. sacking Tom Cruise, my mind started wandering to the big old production companies of old: WB, Paramount, MGM... That got me to thinking about Cecil B De Mille and thus onto Sunset Boulevard - which was made by Paramount - and I was suddenly struck with a mental image of Norma Desmond asking Joe if he'd seen her in The Ordeal of Joan of Arc. "Did you see it? I was fabulous!" To which Joe replied, in my head, "Er, I think my mother saw it." Which was, of course, the wrong answer...
Which got me thinking about fanfic, as if I didn't do enough of that for my dissertation. Fanfic is a very weird thing. In my case, it was very much as though the characters took up temporary residence in my brain. Thinking back on how prolifically I used to write fanfic, especially in the case of newly-discovered fandoms - in chronological order, I can remember them: X-Files, Star Trek Voyager, Frasier, Farscape (mostly season 3 angst), Sunset Boulevard, Buffy - it was very much as though the characters, fed up with the confines of their movie or end-of-season cliffhanger, were using me as a channel for the adventures they wanted to go on. And, obviously, a lot of it was to do with my own psyche satisfaction of wanting things to happen that didn't. I think of it as though John and Aeryn were just as fed up of waiting as we were, or wanted a 'voice' for their tormented inner ramblings; Buffy wanted that kick up the arse when it came to Spike; Norma and Joe were trapped within their 90 minutes and wanted more room to explore.
And perhaps, now, they've had enough of new adventures and are content to sit back and wait for me to finish writing them, not quite realising that, in fact, I need their unique input in order to do so. I have no lack of ideas or inspiration, I just have no voices.
It's a very strange thing indeed. Original characters are much, much different; they're always lingering in the back of the mind, semi-formed, waiting for more aspects to their personality or appearance. Other people's characters are already fully formed. SOmetimes they want to grow, sometimes they want to regress, and sometimes they just want to throw a tantrum.
And I suppose it's the mark of a true fanfic writer when all the voices in your head don't cause you to immediately phone a shrink or go completely insane. I've suffered lack of sleep because of John and Aeryn, lack of study because of Norma and Joe, and a lack of a social life through Mulder and Scully... but I wouldn't change a thing about it, because, DAMN, it was fun.
So, yeah. Fanfic is a curious beast indeed. I would be intrigued to hear others' thoughts on this, too.
Also, I had quite a bizarre dream last night, which I blame on watching Blizzard: Race to the Pole in its entirety on BBC2. In the dream, I was searching for the North and South poles on GoogleMap. The map had a keyboard function which switched it from a 3D to a bird's eye view. The North Pole was characterised by a tall, cone-like mountain right at it's centre, which seemed to naturally indicate the exact location of the Pole. I was trying to look at the map from the bird's eye view, but for some reason the keyboard function wasn't working properly.
Then it transpired that frightened had decided to go on an expedition to the North Pole for some reason, and she was moaning once she'd got there because it was "fucking freezing" - so she leapt in a single bound to the Australian outback because it was warmer, and we and her expedition team basked in the sun for a bit. I remember worrying that we might get sunburnt.
Then it also transpired that last_dance had also gone on an expedition to Australia.
Then we were going to visit my dad, and he lived in a house that was inside a block of flats... when we got there he had some friends around and they were all being very quiet and poring over atlasses (atli?) because they were going on an expedition somewhere as well. For some reason I'd also put my sim card into my old Nokia phone and was playing a game on it, and then my mum turned up for some reason... and then I woke up.
Do you think, perhaps, my brain is telling me to go on an expedition? :)