{February 6, 2012}   HobbySherley

I spent another evening watching Sherlock episodes with my friend, who’s been forcibly absent from most of the last couple of weeks of my life because she’s house-hunting with her man. Apparently I remind her of Sherlock. I think she only meant in the ‘smart person who likes to find & solve puzzles’ sense, so a nice big compliment, but I’ll have to check 🙂 I also finally introduced her to my love of loves, Doctor Who, via Doctor Who Confidential & bloopers. She said she can really see why I want to work for them. Oh it’s brilliant! Just can’t wait till a new series rolls around!



Being compared to Sherlock does bother me though. Obviously there’s many incredibly flattering aspects to it… he has a fantastic curiosity that he pursues whole-heartedly, which I think I share to some extent – the only thing stopping me from training myself to walk as well on my hands as I can on my feet is aesthetics and priorities. The proof of this is that I am in fact training my feet to work like hands for small, unintricate tasks. Yes really. But then there’s all the other things…


The fact that I honestly don’t care at all about charities, or famine in Africa or the homeless living on the same streets that I walk on in the freezing winter – there I said it. I don’t care a single little bit. And why should I?  The fact that I’ve a long-running tendency to avoid romance because it’ll get in the way of my independent, hobby-improving-focused lifestyle, or simply that ‘I don’t have time’. It’s all just too distracting and too disrupting. I don’t even understand that whole culture – Dates? Flirting? To me “Want to come back to my place?” is an entirely friendly offer, but to anyone else I may as well add the suffix “bouncy-bouncy! *wink*.” Then, the fact that I generally ignore pretty well everyone beyond my natural courteousness and curiosity unless they take an interest in me, and even then I stay suspicious.

The fact that my best friend wouldn’t be that if she hadn’t talked to me that first day, asking about my juggling, and stuck with me.

Heh. I sound awful.

But then I have the other side of me. The part that’s often felt but rarely heard. The part that twists at all the above admittances and tells me that I shouldn’t be like that. That I should care. That I should comfort a crying person, even if I can’t understand it. That I deserve love and should therefore let it in – to hell with becoming my idea of perfection. The part that wants me to be more… human. The part of me that’s making me write these blog so damn honestly.



She’s nearly at the end of her house-hunting stage, which means that she won’t be so tied up all the time. I love spending all my free time drinking tea in cafés, theorising and practicing guitar, but I have been missing having time with her after lectures to just hang out, just us two. No offence to her man, but it’s so much nicer to have best buddy time rather than best buddy plus her loverboy time. Plus when it’s just us I get more admiring compliments. I don’t mean to sound clingy or dependent or emotional (there I go again), but I don’t know what my life here would be like without her. In a world without adventure & I write my own story, she is my Watson. And her man is like that Mary that Watson marries… Except I’m not going to try & drive them apart like Holmes tries to in the movies. Though, if adventure should suddenly call, he must understand that she’s got to be my sidekick. This is a nice train of thought – I’m going to go away & daydream on that now & tomorrow I’ll be back to my usual ‘Compliments? For me? Ha, whatever you say!’ self.



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