What I would like my ideal man to be like
A list by crazyinpink expressed through the medium of Benedict Cumberbatch
1. My ideal man is sweet and understanding.
2. He shares my values and beliefs.
3. He has passions and interests that make him unique and accepts my passions too.
4. He has get-up-and-go and pursues what he’s after, whether it’s a particular career, a crazy ambition or, you know, world domination.
5. He makes me laugh.
6. My ideal man, of course, wants children.
7. He can be serious when he needs to be.
8. He can also be unbelievably goofy.
9. He has his flaws but they’re overshadowed by everything else.
10. He is caring and will always take care of me.
Haven’t been able to post as much as I’d like recently. With only a few months until my differentiation, my supervisor wants a draft version of my first chapter by the end of June. And even though I knew this and knew the amount of work I had to do to get this done, I still went ahead and booked a trip to England.
I found out that there was a Sherlock Holmes conference in London and the obsessive side of my personality knew I couldn’t miss this opportunity.
A two-day geekfest all about my favourite fictional hero? Sign me up!
An outpouring of excitement on facebook followed this discovery and a friend offered to accompany me on the condition that we went to see Les Mis in the West End while we were there.
A week or so later we ironed out all the details, squealed our combined excitement down the phone and booked our flights, hotel and tickets. Looks like I’m heading back to London baby!!
Since I’ll be in England anyway, I figured I’d make another little trip to Bristol to see Bristol Boy. Taking my impromptu trip up to a total of six days.
Losing those six days meant I had to get super-organised to get my work done in time. I love doing my PhD but I also love having a life. The relief I got out of my operation means I have a much better quality of life now and I am determined not to waste it. So I applied the same obsessive tendencies I use to pursue my hobbies (currently trying to finish reading all the Sherlock Holmes stories before I go away) to my research. I made exhaustive lists of all the materials I need to read and broke them down by archive. I ranked them in order of most to least important and compared them to my long list of secondary literature to read. I made a timetable of each day between now and my trip. I figured that if I get all the research done before I leave, then when I get home I can spend a couple of days writing it all up and hopefully get it off to my supervisor by the 30th.
But all work and no play makes life completely dull so my schedule has also allowed some time for recreation. I’m going out with friends, seeing shows, going on day trips, catching up on the fun I missed out on all those years I was stuck on the sofa clutching a hot water bottle. I still get tired and still have trouble with my tummy on occasion but I pace myself and save my spoons for when I know I’ll need them.
Being so obsessive does have its perks at times. 🙂
I’m shocked it had taken me this long to dedicate a whole post to the wonder that is Benedict Cumberbatch. My twitter is full of mentions of the Batch and a fair few of my followers are fellow Cumberbitches.
The obsession began with Amazing Grace, a film I first saw years ago and quite fancied the guy playing William Pitt. Then I watched BBC’s Small Island and again was struck by this unconventional-looking actor who was so compelling that even though he was absent for most of the series was still my favourite part of the show.
It wasn’t until Sherlock that the obsession truly came to maturity. I was in love. Most people still didn’t know who he was but I had a crush on the man with the incredible cheekbones. Something about that striking silhouette with the collar turned up and the blue scarf, not to mention of course his fantastic suits (costume dept of Sherlock, I applaud you). By the time the second series aired, most people knew I had a thing for him and in the last few months it’s only gotten worse.
My phone and laptop wallpaper are images of the man himself. My ringtone is the Sherlock themetune. I can spend far too long online simply looking at pictures of him. I buy every paper or magazine that he appears in, usually only finding out about it because one of my loyal twitter followers informs me. Once, I couldn’t get hold of a particular TV magazine he had been interviewed in and a very lovely girl in Manchester scanned hers and emailed me a copy.
I went to a table quiz on Wednesday night. It was for leaders of Girls’ Brigade. In our team, I was the youngest and before it started we were discussing our ‘specialist subjects’, one girl said ’80s music’ another ‘soaps’. I said that I was good for ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ and ‘the life and times of Benedict Cumberbatch’. They laughed at me for thinking it would appear.
Then, for the second picture round, who is number 15??
Yes, I squealed. Then I told the man collecting the answer sheets that number 15 was my future husband. Then I kept the sheets with his picture.
Its not an obsession, its a way of life.
I take a lot of painkillers. My daily medication currently consists of 9 different pills of varying strengths.
Sometimes I do crazy things when I’ve taken too many painkillers, when my head’s a little fuzzy and I’m not 100% sure of what’s going on around me.
Here are some things I’ve done in the last week alone:
- bought a Moriarty tshirt online then forgot about it
(yet another Sherlock-based item I’ve bought under the influence)
took a yoghurt to work then forgot which fridge I’d put it in, resulting in me rummaging in all four fridges and getting weird looks
forgetting the access code that opens the doors to the stairs in work after using it at least 10 times that day alone; used it to go downstairs then two minutes later could not for the life of me remember what the simple 5-digit code was. I had to stand there for 10 minutes before someone opened the door.
sending very flirty messages to a male friend
engaging in an extremely odd conversation with another male friend in which he called me ‘a buxom wench’
taking off one shoe at my desk but keeping the other one on then forgetting this when I went to the bathroom and walked the length of the office in an odd shoe-sock combo…
Sometimes, I just shouldn’t be allowed out.