Charlie Bradbury. Swoon.This is what research looks like for me:

Obsessive hunting down of information (which could take anywhere from hours to months), coupled with a bookmarks list in my Chrome account the length of my arm, coupled with a browser history that brings me the occasional deep and burning shame. And, frequently, an expression plastered on my face that’s somewher between “Oh! Oh, I Had No Idea…” and “What In the Actual Fuck?”

Consequently, my husband & I have an agreement that whoever goes first, the other one will erase their browser history and burn their journals, preferably before family arrives, optimally, before the medical examiner’s big grey van pulls up to the curb.

Because I am a curious fish, and I will Google, really, anything.

I mean, it’s one thing when I want to know about commencement speeches. It’s only mildly embarrassing to admit that sometime in the end of June I will inevitably find myself cleaning closets while sobbing as someone’s YouTube playlist runs on my laptop for three or four hours.*

It’s entirely another thing to not know, and then seach to find out  what the terms “Destiel” and “Wincest” mean. And surely “knot” is just some Aussie slang for the common human penis? (Spoiler: nope. And you can thank me now that I’ve done the research so you don’t have to, because iw.)** For the record, I know now that the descriptor “slash” is not entirely synonymous with “fanfiction.”

I also have a good idea which slash authors have actually had sex before, because I was curious about where everyone’s legs go if the scenes described were accurate (ie, if they could actually go there), and natch, I looked that business up. It’s not porn, it’s research, ya’ll.

In other news, I now have a deep respect for Steadicam operators. (And I want a lot of camera gear that I have no business owning.***) And about gyroscopes. And about how a camera and sound crew operates on a film set. And I know that with gasoline you measure octane, but with diesel fuel you measure cetane. And how to prime an oil heater after you run it dry. And that moss is a multicellular eukaryote.

But then, see also (click this next link at your own peril, my vegan friends), Pinterest.

I like to think of it as a healthy search for the heart of the matter.

So listen, when I go, I hope it isn’t like how Charlie Bradbury smashes her tablet against the sink right before the monsters get her, but the arrangement that I have with Will needs to stand, ok? And if you get in his way, I promise you, I will haunt yer ass.


*And then I need to watch (and do watch) eleven seasons of Grey’s Anatomy (as well as all of Scandal and How to Get Away With Murder) to find out just what Shonda Rhimes has to say in her work about love, the human condition, and the world we live in. Because this:

**And I cannot unsee any of that now. Because I read it all. Because I totally didn’t get it at first. Please pass the bleach. I need it for my brain.
***Lawdamercy, I want this with a powerful hunger. Not that I actually would have a reason to own one, but fuck it, I will make some up. Because, whoa –