Spoonie Blues - and PhD muse[ings]

Majorly shitty month thus far, hence why I haven't posted; it would only be full of rage and misery, which while cathartic, would prove a very boring and depressing read.

I have other plans for today's post but, to cut a long story short, I've been stuck at home for pretty much the whole of the past three weeks, with no access to my own car, while mother has been driving back and forth to my sister's – who's recovering from a very small, totally non-life-threatening operation.  Damn, how bitter do I sound?  In normal circumstances, of course I wouldn't begrudge anyone receiving help from their mother, particularly when she already does so much for me, as my main carer.  However, nothing about my family is 'normal', or simple – whose is, I hear you scream – good point, but when you take into consideration that we moved away from living with my sister because she's a manipulative, immature, abusive and violent bitch, you can kinda see why it might grate on me.  I haven't said a lot about this in previous posts, maybe the odd hint, cos it's so difficult to discuss, and I almost feel embarrassed when I do have to talk about my family sitch.  Stupid, huh?  Anyway, the whole point of this blog was to be honest with my readers, so there you go; [some] honesty.  So, because mother's had exclusive use of the car – my car, paid for by me, via Motability – I haven't been able to get out with my enabler, SB.  And no, I couldn't have just gone for a 'walk' to town, or round the park with SB, as that would've involved mother getting me into my wheelchair before she left early in the morning, and me staying sat up all day, which I can't physically do (see The Spoon Theory to really make sense of this).

I have, consequently, really struggled to get through this month, and have had some epic rows with mother; brought on by a combination of cabin fever, boredom, frustration, exhaustion – from days of early starts – and a general feeling of loneliness and isolation.  If it wasn't for daily heart to hearts with The Wife, visits from VW and @FranBMan23, and getting out to work on two of the days, I don't know how I'd have coped.  Still not feeling great at the moment; having some pretty emotional, angry, and stressful bouts, and I have scared myself at times into thinking I'll end up like I was last year/end of 2010.  I'm hoping I've come through the worst though; mother isn't up at my sister's quite so much now, and from next week I should have a bit more use of my car.  Here's hoping, cos I'm not sure I can handle this way of 'life' for much longer.  I'm banking on the testing of a new, specially made sling on Friday that, if successful, would mean – once installed – I could be lifted and moved by my carers, rather than solely mother.  As much as I'm worried about it – the thought of anyone, or anything, new lifting me is pretty terrifying, on account of the slightest movement potentially causing a broken bone – I desperately want, no, need, for this to work.  Maybe then I'll achieve the independence that so many spoonies, quite rightly, seem to acquire so easily.

Right, on to the actual topic of this post; my PhD.  I wanted to put into words what I'm intending to research, as it's all jumbled up in my head at the moment, so it needs some organisation anyway, and what better way to do that than in public.  These are all initial, very rough ideas that I've had, based on the findings of my MA dissertation, and before I'd done any proper research.  I'm sure the plans will change, but I'm living in the moment, so here goes.

For my MA dissertation in Film, I wrote about issues of girlhood, and the representation of young women in the Disney film; specifically The Little Mermaid (Clements & Musker, 1989) and Beauty and the Beast (Trousdale & Wise, 1991).  I am going to share this work over the next few posts, so bear with me; I don't wanna give away any spoilers at the moment.  What I can say is that, as both of the above films were based on fairy tales and folklore, I followed the progression of these two stories, charting the differences between the representations of the little mermaid (Ariel, to those of the Disney generation), and Beauty (Belle).  These characters naturally became the main focus, but during my research, and throughout the course of writing up, Ursula (a.k.a. the Sea Witch) kept rearing her [very ugly] head, and proved difficult to ignore. 

Ursula brought up some very interesting issues of femininity; of being cast aside once you reach the age of infertility and unattractiveness – according to society, not my belief, honestly.  Yet, cos Ariel and Belle took the lead roles, Ursula kind of faded into the background, and didn't get as much recognition as she'd have liked.  Indeed, The Legend, who second marked my dissertation, and whose advice I will always follow to the letter, said that she would have been interested to read a lot more about Ursula, and her 'issues'.  Hint for a future PhD topic?  Methinks so.  Thus, the seed was planted, and I'm intending to follow up this idea further, by means of a PhD.

Current working title is 'The Other Woman; Monstrous Femininity and Ageing in the Disney Fairy Tale', and I'm intending to broaden my horizons – and word count – by looking at a much wider range of Disney films, and comparing them to their 'live-action' counterparts.  Fairy tales are totally in vogue at the moment, what with Sky's current ad campaign, Channel 5's Once Upon a Time, and the recent release of Snow White and the Huntsman (Sanders, 2012), to name but a few.  Moreover, according to HH – who was my very brilliant dissertation supervisor – there's loads of research being carried out on ageing, and it just so happens that the Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC) – who I'm banking on for funding – are looking for people to research 'New Dynamics of Ageing'.  Um, yay.  If I ever get to writing a proposal, I will play on this muchly. 

By 'Other', I mean the process of 'us' versus 'them'; primarily associated with Said's 1978 book, Orientalism, where the creation of a society:

'[...] whether Orient or Occident, France or Britain… involves establishing opposites and otherness whose actuality is always subject to the continuous interpretation and reinterpretation of their differences from us‘. (1995:332)

My PhD thesis will [hopefully] be on a much smaller scale than continental politics, and the idea of the 'Other' will instead be used twofold.  First, as a kind of play on words; not the heroin, the other one, and also Other with a capital O; the women that offer something different, oppose the 'norm', aren't seen as 'us'.  This may be cos they aren't beautiful, aren't married, are childless or infertile, etc.  Basically, anything that differentiates these women, such as Ursula, Maleficant, The Wicked Stepmother, from what we – us – deem socially acceptable, or traditionally conventional. 

By 'Monstrous Femininity', I'm of course referring to the brilliant Barbara Creed's The Monstrous-Feminine: Film, Feminism, Psychoanalysis, which I haven't actually read yet, but I'm sure it's amazing.  According to the blurb, The Monstrous Feminine addresses the way that female monstrosity nearly always shares a bed with issues of fertility and mothering – ooo, rhymes with Othering – think the alien in Alien (Scott, 1979).  So, like, all the baddies mentioned above don't have biological children, and seem to exist purely to make the younger, hotter, more fertile protagonists' lives a misery. Wait, this is sounding all too close to home... Anyways, I haven't even begun to address the question of why these women are portrayed in this way; though I have touched on it very briefly in my review of Snow White and the Huntsman.  Maybe it's jealousy, or bitterness, over all the privileges Third Wavers have over the Firsties, or maybe society – us, again – deem older women as useless, due to their inability to reproduce and, cos they're so unattractive, they must be cast aside, to go live in caves.  Again, not my views.  Who knows; it's probably a combo of all those factors, plus a bunch more.  Only time, and a whole lotta work, will tell.  Although, if anyone does have an answer, please share!  I'm not so attached to the idea of giving up my life [and sanity] to research this baby, that I wouldn't welcome any input. 

Next, cue a big load of post-feminist argument – which I actually love picking apart – about the body beautiful, women doing it for themselves, Third Wave gals versus First Wave old cronies, and I have myself a very basic, yet not bad – even if I do say so myself – idea for a thesis.

That's where I'm at right now.  I've done no reading, since researching my MA, and have watched maybe a tenth of the films that I need to.  But I'm starting to think about it; progress.

KT xxx

Round-Up

Crazy, mad-busy week this week, so today's post is a summary of all that's happened; dead exciting stuff too, you'll be hooked.

Monday

Did bugger all.  I figured I needed to conserve my spoons for the week ahead, that, and I popped a rib sneezing, which didn't rate too high on the pain scale, but I spent the day in bed anyway.

Tuesday

Worked at the museum, as per, but stayed on an extra hour as I knew I'd be meeting The Legend for a PhD-related chat, and I'd missed a couple days' work last month due to illness/malfunctioning chair, so didn't wanna take the piss.  Not that I get paid, but I'm nice like that I guess.  Felt that extra hour too, but hardly slept that night cos my rib was killing me – The Wife will tell me off after reading this; she told me not to go in if I was hurting.  I wasn't till I got home, honest! 

It was worth it though, seeing The Legend, as I knew it would be.  She loved my proposed PhD topic – well, she would; it was her comments on my MA dissertation that 'inspired' me!  Not gonna go into too much detail about my subject yet, in case somebody happens to nick it before I get there.  It's hardly finalised either, and needs a lot of polishing.  Let's just say, that I'm thinking older women in Disney films, which is pretty much as fair as I've got, too be honest!

Yeah, so The Legend approved – always a bonus – and gave me some research tips, which I'm gonna make every effort to follow up; if I do this, I'm doing it properly.  She has actually got me quite excited and determined about it; I knew if anyone would, it'd be her.  On the other hand, I'd already made up my mind that, if I'd come away from that meeting still feeling terrified – not that I'm not a bit terrified – and unsure, then I wasn't ready for a PhD yet.  Guess maybe I am, I think.  Like I say, it still scares me to death, and I said as much to The Legend, who replied with 'it is hard' – duhhh – but she thought I could do it.  She also said 'we' a lot, like 'we'll plan a proposal' – in the summer, when I'm to go back and see her – or 'we'll have great fun researching this'.  I thought this was sweet, and hope I'm not deluding myself by thinking that The Legend is really gonna see me through, and be dead supportive.  Not that I ever doubted that, but it was lovely to hear – assuming I'm right – and has made me look forward to this next, mahoosive, step.  I'd probably end up with The Legend, or HH, or both, as my supervisor(s), cos of my topic, so I know I'd be well looked after, and should get a lot out of the experience.  There's the prospect of me teaching while studying too, starting by shadowing a lecturer, then gradually doing a bit myself.  Love the idea of this; how it'll work in practise I'm not sure, depending on the practicalities, and whether students will even take to me – quite a major concern for some spoonies, I imagine.  Still, it's a challenge, and I'm not one to be overly concerned about what other people think, so bring it on.  In 19 months.  I'm not that ready.

Another thing that warmed me to The Legend was that she asked not only how I was, but how things were going at home with carers, and the hoisting/lifting saga – which I know I haven't discussed in great detail here. I will, but it'll be a ranty one, and I need to build up to it.  Anyway, aside from The Wife, Gloria and VW, none of my friends ever ask me about this stuff; how I'm really getting on, and it makes me love the people that do even more, cos they care, else they wouldn't ask.  Course, as I'm not half as close to The Legend as the above three, I gave her a slightly watered down version of events; a bit 'I'm fine' but with greater honesty, and she was very understanding, and annoyed for me – again, I will explain at a later date.

All in all, Tuesday was good, but I used a lot of spoons.

Oh, I met one of the main 'donors' to the museum too.  He was the 'partner' – in quotes as I'm not sure what kind of partner, and don't like to ask – of the [now deceased] founder, and still sends a loada film-related stuff through from time to time.  Very sweet chap, thanking me for all my 'hard work', bless.

Wednesday

Went with new enabler – referred to as SB from this point on, reckon she's passed the trial period – to see War Horse at the cinema.  Awesome, tragic film, though I didn't cry, surprisingly, thought I'd be a wreck.  I think, probably, had I been at home, in the comfort of my bed, I would've bawled.  Gok Wan had me going a couple weeks ago; I will cry at anything, but don't cry in public.  It's not that I won't, cos I was quite prepared to on Wednesday, and wouldn't have minded a good ol' cathartic weep, but I just don't.  Much. 

I'm really hoping to be able to go to the cinema way more often, now I've got SB; I went once in 2011, and I am a Film grad.  Sorry, Post-grad *grins*.  Apart from anything else, it's great to do something normal – for non-spoonies – that I don't often get the opportunity to do.  Mother moaned at me for making SB drive me to Tesco first, to get supplies – yup, I smuggled in; so sue me – cos of the effort of getting me in and out the car.  SB was ok about it, I'd checked with her numerous times while we were making the arrangements, and we've got it down to a fine art now, pretty swiftly too.  No problems.  To be honest, and I've noticed this when I've gone out with VW, mother seems to get dead touchy – shitty – with me before I go out.  It's probably just a slightly heightened way of nagging me; maybe she's nervous about me going out without her.  I can't help thinking though, and this is gonna sound awful, but maybe she's jealous that I'm choosing to do these fun, normal things with someone else… I expect I'm totally wrong, and I'm sure she understands that I need people like VW and SB to keep me bloody sane!  Almost sane.

I'd had to get up early – earlier than normal – as mum went to my sisters', and going out used a lot of spoons, as I was sitting for a good six hours – following Tuesday's longer stint, and little sleep, so I was pretty knackered Wednesday night.

Thursday

Had my haircut, no biggie… Yeah, actually I hate getting my hair cut, and I always felt like a bit of a twat, as I know a lot of people find it very relaxing and enjoyable.  However, after reading Christin Miserandino's Spoon Theory, I can imagine this task could be difficult for other spoonies, and had a tweet from someone this week to confirm this. 

Following my spinal fusion op at the age of six, I can't sit upright unaided, or hold my own head up.  So, when it comes to the hairdessers', I need someone – mother – to do it for me.  Leaning forward, even for a matter of a few minutes, kills my back and neck; probably cos the muscles don't get used much.  It takes less than 20 minutes to have my hair cut, but I'm left aching and exhausted afterwards and, coupled with Tuesday and Wednesday's exploits, I was running very low on spoons by this point.

Friday

Another early start, so no chance of earning a few spoons back with a lie in.  I did spend most of the day horizontal; either in bed, or on my sister's settee when I was there in the afternoon, but I was already so tired that any effort was spoon-consuming. 

Saturday

Today.  Currently lying in bed while dictating/typing this, so conserving some spoons, though I did go out briefly with the parentals this morning.  I'm likely gonna be able to spend the next couple days resting up, which ordinarily would fill me with dread of the threat of boredom, but I think I'm going to need that time, cos I am tired.  I must be getting old, as I obviously somehow managed a five-day week at college, back in the day.  I dunno, maybe now that I understand the Spoon Theory, I'm aware of how I feel? 

It doesn't help that I woke myself up unnecessarily early [again] this morning, after a really emotional dream about Gloria; mother had upset her somehow, and she wrote me a letter saying basically, as much as she loved me, she couldn't work with me anymore.  It's all a bit blurry, though I do remember crying a lot, but that was the gist.  It still gets me a bit now actually, thinking about it, and I'm just going to ring Gloria for a chat; though I won't be telling her about the dream.  She'll think I'm bonkers, which I probably am, though I think it smacks of needy if I'm honest.  I'd die if I lost Gloria's friendship over a row, not to mention VW or, god forbid, The Wife.  I think it says a lot that I was more upset about this dream than I was over losing K's 'friendship' last week.  But I digress, going now!

BW xxx

Short and Mad

I was intending to write about something else, way more specific, this week, but I can't seem to settle my mind on anything at the moment.  Hence, this rather short post, full of mad ramblings.

VW had her baby on Friday night; I found out yesterday evening.  I wasn't half as emotional as I thought I'd be, even when I spoke to her, but I am more excited, and proud, than I've ever been for a friend before*.  Probably because I've never been there during any other friends' pregnancies; watching it all develop, and talking about the gory details.  I've actually felt part of this; in a totally healthy, knowing-where-the-boundaries-are, kinda way, and hope that I can watch little Charlie boy grow up; which again, I've missed out on with friends.  I'm not as broody as I thought I'd be either, hurrah!  I think I've got over all that and, while I still think having a baby must be incredible, I'm not as hung up about me having a baby.  Aside from @sarahwithstars, who knows how much she means to me, VW has become one of my closest friends, and I guess it could seem that I'm living the baby thing vicariously though her.  Maybe I am.  I think I've come to realise, with a little help, that there are other things in life, besides s.e.x., and children and, as a spoonie, I've got to focus on the things I can do, rather than those I can't/might not.  Also, I think mother might have twigged how I've been feeling, though I thought I'd hidden it pretty well, cos yesterday she was talking about the practicalities of how I could hold Charlie.  I dunno, it's just the way she said it, like she felt a bit sorry for me, and that at least VW might let me 'borrow' her baby for a bit.  Borrowing is fine by me now though, I need my sleep!

Dad had the 'your mother and I aren't going to be around forever' talk to me yesterday, in regards to what I was doing about a PhD.  Dad isn't one for serious convos; in fact, he isn't one for any type of convo, due to a brain injury he suffered years ago, followed by hydrocephalus, which totally affected his social interaction skills.  So when he does try to talk to me seriously, I do make the effort to properly listen, even when I don't agree.  He said he wanted to see me doing something I enjoyed, and that I'm interested in, beyond the four walls of our, rather bijoux, bungalow, and that a PhD would mean me getting a job in a place I'm already happy and confident in., i.e. the University. 

Now, I dunno whether my parents are a bit naïve, or just very optimistic, cos obviously a PhD does not guarantee a job.  It's definitely a step towards becoming a lecturer, which I'd love to do, or a researcher, which I could do – though this strikes me as a pretty lonely career; surely one of the main aspects of spoonies achieving employment is the social side? – But it's not a guarantee.  Yes, a PhD would give me something to do for the next three years, and would hopefully lead on to something, but I can't justify putting myself through all that as a cure for boredom, and if nothing came of it in the end, I'd be gutted.  That realisation has just hit me as I typed it; not that I might not get anything after a PhD – I'm not stupid, I know the score – but how I'd feel about that.  Not great, judging by how I'm feeling right now, simply imagining it! 

On the other hand, I've always quite liked the idea of teaching – I am from a family of teachers, though I'm adopted… Nurture 1: Nature 0 – and I think I'd be best suited at the further education level; where students are a bit more… accepting.  Teaching is one of the few careers that I can see really fitting around my disability, though I would still need some support.  So why the hell don't I just get on with it?!  I'm nearly 26, and I've never had a 'proper' job.  I could totally do this.  I think… I even wrote down a title that I'd quite like to use yesterday, with three bullet points, and it wasn't all that scary!  Other people believe that I can do it too, which is very flattering, but a lot of added pressure not to fail, and are waiting for me to come knock on their doors for a chat.  Maybe I will; have that chat I mean!  It can't hurt to talk this all through to someone who can tell me all the gory details.  Talking to Bill was really helpful the other week, and I thought that I'd be even more honest with HH – my amazing MA supervisor – or The Legend, who were both aware how tough I found things last year.  I might just do that; even to just put all these crazy, mixed up thoughts, into some kind of order.

BW xxx

* I mean proud in relation to a friend reproducing here.  This is not the most proud I've ever been of a friend; that accolade goes to The Wife, particularly referring to the well-deserved news she gave me last night but, in general, that girl just makes me bloody proud!  Thank god I've had her to discuss all the above with too, cos trust me, my blog posts would be even more garbled without her.

Doctor When

I graduated on Saturday!  You are now looking at [the blog of] Bad Wolf MA *beams* - that is never gonna get old   Bit surreal really, being up on that stage with the lovely Floella 'Make a difference, change the world, make us proud' Benjamin.  Many times I thought I'd never make it to graduation, and I know I freaked out those around me too (Gloria, The Wife), but they kept me sane, and both of them have said how proud they are, which means a lot.

What also felt weird was being on campus as a non-student.  I know I've worked at the museum for four months now, but that feels different somehow, largely cos it's kinda on the edge of campus, and maybe just cos it feels like a job – albeit unpaid.  Not that I miss being a student, hell no.  Though, apparently, I want to do a PhD… Funny story, not.

After the ceremony on Saturday, I went up to the reception to see a few people, and was immediately accosted by The Prof. with 'I hear you want to do a PhD?'.  Slightly lost for words, I didn't immediately respond, other than to um and ahh a bit, but mother, well, she jumped on this bandwagon.  So mother and The Prof. set about planning my future, discussing possible funding opportunities and so on.  The Prof. then calls over another Film lecturer, Bill, and tells him how interested I am in taking on a doctorate.  Fortunately, for me, he had to rush off to pick up his brood, but not before agreeing wholeheartedly with The Prof. that there is absolutely no reason why I shouldn't apply for, and receive, funding.

Then we see my boss who mother, excited by the aforementioned conversation, harasses into giving his opinion on the matter.  He agreed with The Prof. and Bill – well of course he would – that there were many funding options available, and he'd even look into them for me – woo hoo.  Boss even asked if I wanted him to arrange for South to come and see me while I'm working at, to talk about possible PhD topics – OK, this I readily agreed to.   Sing was there too, and he was about the only one that listened to me that day when I said I didn't miss studying, and wasn't ready to do a PhD yet.  Though, that was probably because mother had left me unattended for all of a minute to go and get a drink.  Bless all these people for trying their best; they obviously believed that, not only did I want to do it, but that I could do it, which is naturally very flattering.

God, I even got a congratulations card from Gloria's daughter-in-law, saying 'Hope the PhD is going well'.  It really did feel like I was the only one that didn't think I was doing a PhD, though The Wife and VW both advised me not to do it, while Gloria told me to do what I thought was right, cos they listen, see?

I went home on a natural high from the festivities and, while the threat of a PhD had seemed to move closer, and it was all mother could talk about, it still only felt like a threat; not a promise.  However, on Monday night I switch on my BlackBerry – yup, I finally have a decent phone – to discover three e-mails from Boss; two of them information on post-graduate funding, while the other is informing me that he's arranged for Bill to come down to tomorrow (yesterday), to discuss applying for the Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC) grant, whose deadline closes on January 31^st.  Now, I have to admit, I knew when the AHRC deadline was, and I was deliberately trying to avoid it.  Well, if I wasn't planning on applying, why did I need to acknowledge it?  But, because Boss and Bill had been led to believe that this is what I wanted to do, they considered this 'urgent'.  Cue freak out.  Seriously, I cried, my heart raced; total flight response.  I just felt like I'd suddenly been pushed into a corner, and there was no way out – stupid I know.  The Wife, quite rightly, gave me a virtual slap, and told me to just say no, but I felt so guilty.  These people had gone to some trouble to try and help me out, and I was going to look like a right idiot, and totally waste their time, by saying that, actually, I don't want to do this. 

That physical reaction I had was almost the last bit of proof I needed that I really wasn't ready, it was similar to how I often felt during the MA; totally out of control, and overwhelmed.  It's like, I'd put the MA, and all my feelings towards it – good and bad – away in a box on a shelf in my mind, and I was quite happy with it just sitting there.  I knew it was there, and it was well within my reach, but it was tucked away enough that it wasn't bothering me, and I wasn't constantly tripping over it.  Now though, with all this talk of the PhD, it was like someone had come in and found my MA box, tipped it all over the floor, and left a right mess in my already cluttered mind.  The MA is still comparatively recent too, so all these feelings are pretty raw, which doesn't help.  Suppose it's like after giving birth, you'd say 'never again', but a couple years later... Yeah well, I haven't forgotten the pain yet.

So anyway, I was worried.  I knew I had to tell Bill the full story but, aside from looking like a time waster, I knew I'd probably get upset talking about all this, and I hate crying in front of people.  Especially male people.  Bill was 'booked' to be there at 10 a.m., for when I arrived at the museum, and I was worried that mother – who drops me off – would insist on staying, and I wouldn't get a word in edgeways.  Fortunately, Bill was characteristically late, and mother had already gone.

Bill, and Boss – we stayed in the main office, so it wasn't exactly private – were great!  Neither of them had realised how uncertain I was, and Bill was so understanding, telling me I should only ever do the PhD when I was ready – which is what The Legend said to me ages ago.  I told Bill how tough I'd found the MA – I could totally feel myself getting upset – and he agreed I should give myself some time to really think about what I wanted, and take that pressure off.  He could see I'd been flattered by the fact that everyone believed I could do it – everyone in the Film department apparently, *blushes* – but I shouldn't do it because other people wanted me to, or because there was a window of opportunity; there would be more.  Finally, Bill said that I was in the perfect place being in the museum, and I could use that to my advantage; if I come across something interesting while cataloguing, that I'd like to research further, that could become the basis of my thesis.  Equally, Boss said that if I came up with an idea that I'd like to look into, and he knew that the museum held relevant artefacts, he'd let me use my time there to view them.  I'm to use my position as an advantage – not something that occurs often – and call on Bill/HH/The Legend/Sing/South if and when I ever need them cos, even though I'm not a student anymore, I'm still 'one of their favourites', so they'd make an exception for me.

Aaaaand relax!  That convo was just what I needed, and to think, it was with Bill, i.e. A Bloke.  They do have hearts sometimes.  I was planning to have this kind of conversation in the near future anyway, to clear the air, and try and sort out how I felt about a PhD, but I was thinking of talking to HH, or The Legend.  Although initially I freaked out about being put in that position, I'm glad I was in the end, as it made me confront the issue, and voice how I really felt.  OK, so Bill and Boss maybe weren't the ideal sounding boards but, actually, I think that almost helped, as I had to a) really compose myself, and make my thoughts cohesive, rather than be an emotional wreck and b), it's always supposed to be easier to talk to someone less involved.  Personally, I'm not very good at talking, and I have to really bond with people, and trust them within an inch of my life before I tell them anything remotely juicy, so Gloria, VW, and The Wife know everything, I should think they need counselling now.  So I was quite surprised how honest I was with Bill; maybe I've grown up a bit, and learnt to speak up for myself.  It's only taken 25 and a half years, not bad.  Or maybe I trust Bill more than I thought, and I should give him more credit, after all, I've known him for over four years, and he and the Film/English department have been incredibly supportive; still are it appears.

So I feel much better, like a weight has been lifted.  A weight that I wasn't completely aware even existed.  As far as I was concerned, I had no immediate plans to do a PhD; it was like a threatening storm cloud, just viewable in the distance.  After the events of the weekend, said cloud was right overhead, about to drown me, but now it's back on the horizon again.  It doesn't seem that threatening anymore either, weirdly.  When I repeated my conversation with Bill to mother – not exactly word for word, but she got the gist – I actually felt positive, and even talked about my next graduation with The Wife – who was appalled.  Knowing I've still got the support of the staff that I've grown to love over the past four years is an incredible boost, and having the time and resources to make my decision without any pressure is brilliant.  I'm not saying I will definitely be applying next year and, even if I did, there's no guarantee I'd get funding anyway, but I do feel that it is something that I'm probably going to do now, whereas before, it was probably not.  Might change my mind again tomorrow, knowing me I probably will.

BW MA xxx

Great Expectations

Yup, I had a baby... But not in the way you're thinking.  Well, the way I think you're thinking anyway... Lemme explain.

OK, so there I am, at the beginning of 2011, struggling away with, frankly, everything.  Although I'd started to get myself mentally together in February, and was feeling a lot more positive about certain things, I was completely panicking about the 20,000 word dissertation I still had to write, in order to even attempt to pass my MA in Film.  The thought of it scared me half to death; I just couldn't imagine being mentally, and physically, able to cobble together enough research to 'fuel' a 20k essay, let alone write the thing.  I also had no idea what I wanted to write about.  I remember going to see The Legend in December, who tried to get me to think of a subject – or 'corpus' – I'd enjoy writing about.  We discussed maybe writing about the portrayal of women in vampire films – I did know I wanted to focus on feminism.  Really though, I was pretty clueless, and not particularly passionate – an important word, will feature heavily in this post – about any subject.  I came away from that meeting feeling rubbish – absolutely no reflection on The Legend – so much so, that I reckon I could pinpoint this exact day as the tipping point; the day that it all just got way too much.  The day my head exploded... Figuratively speaking, natch.

The next couple months are a bit of a blur, to be honest.  I know that, after Christmas, once the worry regarding that, coupled with my bonkers family – and other animals – was over with, I definitely started to pull myself together.  Counselling began in March, after my friend Gloria had already removed a load of weight off my shoulders, simply by listening, and I just had one – huge – hurdle left to stagger over, which [finally] leads me back to the beginning – and point – of this post.

While I'd not stopped thinking [fretting] about the dissertation since November, I'd also tried really hard not to think about it, which is as difficult to do as it is to explain.  It wasn't till late February, that I finally hit on an idea that might just work as an MA thesis.  I'd just written an essay for Sing's module on New Cinemas; we had to choose a film that had sparked debate, positive or negative, over its portrayal of a group not normally the focus of mainstream cinema, i.e. the elderly, disabled, homosexual, those of ethnic origin.  Thinking outside the box, I wrote on Disney's Aladdin (1992), and how it, in a nutshell, Westernised the goodies, and emphasised the foreignness of the bad guys. 

For the first time in ages, I actually enjoyed writing and researching an essay – what wasn't to like? I had to watch Aladdin several times over – and thought that, maybe, mixing a childish love of Disney with a spot of feminism might be enough to drag me through the next seven months.  A lunch date with The Legend helped to finalise this idea, and she sent me off with a few – OK, loads of – wise words, and a starting point for my research.  I was still bloody petrified and, had someone said that I could pass the MA without writing the dissertation, then I would have asked them where to sign.  In fact, someone sorta did, as Gloria – whose husband is a lecturer – thought that there was a way of avoiding a dissertation, probably based on extenuating circumstances, which resulted in some form of qualification, albeit of a lesser status than a Masters.  Bearing in mind what I've just said, and how I was feeling then, it really never occurred to me to just not do it.  I suppose I saw it as yet another challenge, and didn't wanna play the 'I'm disabled/stressed' card to get out of doing something that, maybe subconsciously, I knew I could do.  

When I saw her a few weeks ago, Gloria confessed that she'd worried I wasn't gonna see the dissertation through.  Now, if anyone else had said that, or I'd not completely understood where Gloria was coming from – after all, I was there – I could've been offended into thinking she didn't believe I could do it.  But that's not what she meant at all, and a chat with @sarahwithstars – aka The Wife, Gloria's niece, my soul mate – confirmed this.  Both Gloria and @sarahwithstars were worried that I didn't believe in myself enough to realise that, actually, I was being a tit – as @sarahwithstars would say – and that this was very doable.  Also, back when I was just starting to research, and formulate ideas, Gloria was desperate for me to feel passionate – there it is – in order for me to get anything out of this experience, and to care about it.  Well, I definitely wasn't passionate, and thought Gloria was possibly a bit bonkers – who gets excited about an essay?  This perception wasn't helped by the fact that Gloria said she'd written her Masters dissertation in three weeks, WTF?  So not possible…

I can't really remember the exact order of events that led up to finalising a title but, eventually, this is what I came up with:

'The Women of Disney's Renaissance: Not Such a Fairy Tale?'

Catchy, no?  To cut what was a very long process short, I basically figured that the Renaissance era of Disney (1989-99 approx) would provide a narrow, yet interesting background, as it was supposedly a time of change, and modernisation.  To narrow it down even further, I chose just two films to focus on; The Little Mermaid (Clements & Musker, 1989), and Beauty and the Beast (Trousdale & Wise, 1991) and, as both of these stories derived from fairy tales, this became the final element.

I was assigned the incredible HH as my supervisor, who I'd previously had for a module on film adaptation so, naturally, this became a big part of my writing; the rationale for the way that these films were adapted, and moulded, by Disney. 

I'm not gonna say much more about the content of the dissertation, as I'm hoping to put it up on here, in a modified state, soon.  What I will say, and I've hinted at it enough for you to probably not be surprised to learn that… I totally fell in love with my dissertation.  I got passionate!  Way, way too much actually.  Just seeing everything fit together, like my choice of films opening the door for an analysis of fairy tales, or HH providing me with tonnes of resources regarding adaptation theory, became exciting.  God, I never thought I'd be one of those people, who got excited about research.  Wow.  But I did  

HH played a big part in my total mind shift.  She was such a calming influence, and constantly told me that 'I could do it'.  Yes, Gloria had been saying the exact same thing for months, but I think hearing it from somebody else, who wasn't so close, and who wasn't obliged – as a friend would naturally be – to say 'of course you can do it', gave me the final push I needed.  I wouldn't say I couldn't have done it without HH or Gloria – though there are many things I couldn't have done without the latter – but without them, I don't think I would have got half as passionate about what I was writing, and the end result definitely wouldn't be what it is today.  I wouldn't love it like I do either, I call it my baby.  Seriously though, that's not a bad analogy; it took nine months – November, when I started thinking of a suitable subject, to August, when I handed in – of preparation, worry, stress, and discomfort – I barely slept or ate while I was writing – only for me to be left with something that I couldn't leave alone, was immensely proud of, and actually missed when I finally decided that I couldn't do any more for it.  To it.  See?!  I cried when I finished it, HH [nearly] cried I told her I'd finished, and Gloria [again, nearly] cried when I handed in.  It was a very emotional time for all concerned.  Oh, and what I said about it not being possible to write 20,000 words in three weeks?  Yeah, I was wrong;   It is.  Gloria's always right.

Am I glad I did it?  Yup.  Would I do it again?  Nope.  As much as I [eventually] enjoyed the process, it has well and truly put me off studying any further for a long time.  Though maybe not forever.  The next logical step is a PhD and, while it'd be awesome to be a Doctor, and my mother's desperate for me to do it, the thought of putting myself through all that again, times five – a PhD thesis is 100,000 words – scares the crap outta me; an altogether too familiar feeling.  Part of me almost feels I should do it for my parents - who aren't getting any younger - kind of as a 'thanks for supporting me' gesture, and I know there would be a fair few other people who'd be dead proud too; Gloria and The Legend for a start.  That thought; of how it would make other people feel, sways me one way.  That, and the fact it'd give me a purpose in life for another three years.  However, as The Legend said recently, you've gotta a) really want to do a PhD, b) have a 100% solid idea of what to write about and c), be passionate – last time I'm using that word today, promise – about the subject.  Currently, a) I don't want to do a PhD, and I'm certainly not doing it because other people want me to, it's got to be for me, or merely as something to do; b) I have a rough idea of what I'd write about, but it largely depends on what's already out there; c) I think maybe all the passion – sorry, that was the last time – I did have got poured into the MA, and there's not a whole lot left.  If – dunno, maybe 'when' – I can get conditions a. and c. up to the level of b., then yeah.  Maybe.  Watch this space… For quite a while.

BW xxx

PS, I do have a potential title for a PhD thesis; it literally popped into my mind a couple days ago, when I was barely thinking about it – I was actually thinking how much I did not want to do it.  This title-enlightenment means nothing.  Totally zilch.  Nada.  Nowt.

So Far, So Good

The catchphrase of one of my fave lecturers and, I think, very appropriate to sum up how things are going.

Got through Week One of Term Two fairly unscathed.  I mean, there was the small matter of one of my seminars being timetabled in a completely stupid, difficult to get to room; in a building miles from anywhere.  But, aforementioned lecturer, Sing, who must have actual magical powers, only went and got the seminar moved to the perfect spot.  I know all this sounds really trivial and, frankly, boring, but when you're in a wheelchair, or in fact have any form of mobility issue, this kinda stuff is Really Important.  It's all very well to say that timetabling is done by computer, and that the room is accessible, so that's all right then.  But it's not actually, thanks; one still has to get to the room, trekking miles across a hilly campus, going out of your way to avoid all the numerous building works.  In The Rain.  Some people just don't get it, and computers certainly don't; when I found out that a bit of software was responsible for my timetable, I knew I was screwed.

Big it up for Dr Sing though, Man Is A Legend - though, not The Legend.  He's amazing is Sing, not only are his sessios just so brilliant, and informative, and clear - you'd think all these would be givens at MA-level; you'd be wrong - but he is just So Darned Nice!  Though, not in the way that South is So Darned Nice, you get me?!  Example: Sing knows I'm only on campus on days that I have seminars/lectures, which means I have a limited time to borrow required DVDs from the campus library, watch them at home, and then return then, all whilst trying to avoid hefty fines, and disapproving looks.  Sing also knows how bloody crap (my words, not his, don't think I've ever heard him swear actually...) the library is at keeping their shelves stocked.  They either only have one copy of each film which, for a group of eight Film Post-grads with no scheduled screenings, is completely stupid, or they have Region One DVDS, which is fine, except we live in the UK.  So what does Sing do?  Offers to lend me his copies of all of the required films, two weeks in advance of each seminar, so that I have plenty of time to watch and return them.  Brilliant, it really is the little things that make a big difference... isn't that from a TV ad??

Maybe I should've titled this post 'Ode to Sing', but it is all about me (!) and, so far, I am good.  Have only got through the first week, and I do have my first 'mentoring' (counselling) session tomorrow, which I'm a teensy bit nervous about.  Never had 'therapy' before, though I'm sure I should've done.  Several times.  Thus I've no idea what to expect.  Do counsellors really use the much-clichéd 'and how does that make you feel?'?  Dunno, but I guess I'll find out tomorrow.  Will let you know.

Seriously, I am a bit worried.  Been feeling so much more positive, and calm at the moment, what if talking brings it (whatever 'it' is) all back to the surface?  I feel I want to talk, and I'm ready, else I'd totally be bailing out, yet I worry that dragging up all those bad feelings will start me off again; I haven't cried for siz weeks tomorrow!  Not a monumental record I know, but for someone who spent their entire last three weeks of term either in tears or on the verge, and who cries at everything anyway, it's pretty good going. Apart from anything else, I've got a seminar straight after, and don't want to turn up for that a gibbering, snotty mess.

I worry that if I let go, I'll fall apart.

BW xxx

Had my first dissertation meeting yesterday, with the lovely Legend.  Looks like 2011's gonna be the year of the vampire, and I'll probably require South's geeky mind to aid my quest, woo hoo!  Just doing some online christmas (there's that word again) shopping.  Why are parents like the most difficult people to buy for??  Actually, don't answer that, 'cos if they're anything like mine, they either say they don't want anything, or end up buying themselves the EXACT thing you were gonna give them.  *Sigh*, and so it begins...

BW xxx

PS, song of the day: Santa Baby by Kylie Minogue.

Top Blokes

I'm in a really bad mood.  Dunno why, just woke up like it.  I'm not particularly stressed; I mean I've got a bit of work to do, but nothing unmanageable; and nothing majorly crappy has happened.  I can't even blame the old whipping boy that is PMT - unless the 'P' can stand for post?  I just feel shit.  Maybe I'm tired, I find Uni pretty hard-going sometimes, especially Wednesdays; which just go on forever.  Just feel like having a bloody good cry actually, but instead I'm gonna try and cheer myself up by blogging about gorgeous men... then I'll have that cry.

Über shallow I know, but here is a Top of The Pops-style rundown of the 5 hottest blokes in the Universe, in my humble opinion:

#1 - David Tennant - Sex.  On.  Legs.  I am so in love with this man, I don't quite know what to do with myself.  He first came to my attention as The Doctor - before that I'd ashamedly never heard of him before - but I quite happily fancy him in all guises; even as the rather camp Ghost of Christmas Present, in Catherine Tate's Nan's Christmas Carol (Anderson, 2009).  It's not just looking at him either; his voice has the same cataclysmic effect.  Whenever I hear that gorgeous Scottish timbre, I get this massive cheesy grin on my face, go all giggley, and my heartbeat increases by, like, a thousand BPM.  Surely that's love, right?  He is literally in a universe of his own, and anyone else I claim to be attracted to, comes a very distant runner-up.  Oh, and he's a phenomenally brilliant actor too.

#2 - Johnny Depp.  Yes, I know basically anybody with eyes and a pulse fancies The Depp, but I'm sorry, when someone is that pretty I just gotta go with the flow.  Also, he makes a damn fine pirate!  It feels very wrong to find mucky old Captain Jack Sparrow attractive, but I can't help it; think it's the eyes.

#3 - Tom Hardy.  The actor, not writer, no idea what he looked like, but he did write some great books...  Anyway, Tom Hardy; he isn't my usual 'type', kinda rough and rugged, bit of a bad boy, but HOT.

#4 - John Barrowman.  Very gay: check.  Slight look of Tom Cruise: check (and immediately moving on), but still; he looks great in a military jacket, as evidenced in his portrayal of Torchwood's Captain Jack Harkness.  Oooo, another Captain Jack, I see a pattern emerging... albeit a very short one, he was the last.

#5 - Richard Armitage.  Now I don't really follow him as an actor per se.  I mean, I don't watch Spooks, or Robin Hood (who did?), but I think he is very very pretty, and has The Sexiest voice EVER (after David of course).

That's that then... well sort of.  The above Top 5 are just that, but I also wanna pay a brief homage to the following select few who unfortunately didn't make the shortlist.  Well-played boys, well-played:

Joseph Fiennes - by name and nature.  Particularly fine as Agent Benford in Flash Forward.

Jason Merrells - how happy am I that he's now in Emmerdale?

Jenson Button - such a shame that whenever he's on tv, he wears a silly helmet, and drives what can only be described as a Meccano car repeatedly around a track, yawn.  He should get a proper job, like a tv news-reader, or naked model...

Christopher Eccleston - don't like him quite as much as I used to, but in that battered old leather jacket, with that accent; I wouldn't say no.

Aidan Turner - Being Human's Irish vampire, need I say more??

David Boreanaz - another David, and another vampire, this time Angel from Buffy The Vampire Slayer.  He went through a brief fat and hairy stage after Buffy (see Dido's White Flag vid), but I believe normal hotness has been resumed.

Dark Handsome Stranger - he's studying for a PhD (a Doctorate, you mucky lot), and often sits in on one of my modules.  Soooooooo lush, kinda like a young David Duchovny - whom I use to fancy, before he became a hairy 'sex addict' - AND he always sits opposite me (DHS, not Duchovny *shudders*.
South - one of my lecturers.  Not typically 'good-looking' I suppose; kinda nerdy, which is a real turn on for me.  Seems to have subscribed to the same school of fashion as the 10th Time Lord - suit/trainers *swoon*.  Plus, he wears those black thick-rimmed glasses that Tennant made so ultra-sexy *double swoon*.  God, maybe I'm more attracted to a 'look' rather than real actual people... *Thinks about Tennant and South without clothes*...  Nahhhhh.

Gok Wan - possibly a guilty pleasure (like Pot Noodle sandwhiches - don't knock till you've tried), but I find him really sexy!  Love what he does in How To Look Good Naked too, though Legend doesn't.  She says that, from a feminist perspective, making women believe that they need nice clothes in order to feel good about themselves is crap, and the whole getting naked ethos is just another form of objectification and voyeurism.  But, as much as I respect Ledge, and bow to her superior wisdom; I disagree!  The way I see it is that, yes Gok uses clothing to build up confidence, but by making women strutt their stuff in the buff, he's saying that we don't need all that clobber to look (and feel great); we can get the same sensation in our own skin.  The fact that he often chooses people that aren't typically regarded in society as 'attractive'; disabled, disfigured, black, homosexual or larger women (and the occasional man) suggests that we're all in the same boat, and shoud be viewed equally; screw convention.  He's made me cry too, and if a bloke makes me cry I generally end up falling in love with them.  How fucked up am I?

Right, that's it then, gonna go put Doctor Who on Youtube now, and have that long-awaited cry.  Though I do feel a tadge better, thinking about all these men.  Not that fancying someone is ever gonna get me anywhere; it hasn't done so yet.  Maybe I should just give up and be a nun.  *Sigh*, come on then David, regenerate, again...

BW xxx

PS, song of the day: Sexy Boy by Air.

Who is 'The Bad Wolf'?

I am the Bad Wolf.
I create myself.
I take the words; I scatter them, in time and space.
A message to lead myself here.

So, we've established that I am The Bad Wolf, but just where did this rather odd moniker come from, I hear you cry?  Well, sit still and I shall tell thee...

Two words: Doctor Who.  I was (and please note the italics) completely obssessed with Who when it was reinvented back in 2005.  I was going through a pretty rough patch (which I'll save for another time) and, quite frankly, Doctor Who gave me something to focus on; a form of escapism; something to live for even. 

On 26 March 2005, The Doctor, played by the brilliantly sexy Christopher Eccleston, turned up in his little blue box, and saved a bored young girl, who believed she had no future, and dreamt of a life beyond the one in which she was currently existing.  That girl was Rose Tyler (Billie Piper).  That girl was me.

There are many similarities between myself, Rose Tyler and Billie Piper, but I won't digress into those now.  The fact is, that while Rose travelled through time and space with The Doctor, the words 'Bad Wolf' constantly hounded them (pun definately intented), until the final episode of Series One, Parting of The Ways, when the truth behind this cryptic clue was revealed.

5 billion years in our future, the Doctor faced certain death at the hands (?) of his oldest enemy; the Daleks - hence why I questioned the use of the word 'hands', maybe plunger or whisk would be more appropriate.  Anyway, rather than risk Rose's life, he tricks her into entering the TARDIS, and sends her back home.  She's having none of it, and opens the 'heart' of the TARDIS in order to absorb the Time Vortex, and uses this power to return to The Doctor; which apparently is a very dangerous thing to do, so don't go trying ths at home kids.

Rose gets back to the future, saves The Doctor, and vapourises the Daleks (you go girl), and it is here that the meaning of 'Bad Wolf' is explained.  Rose Tyler is The Bad Wolf.  She delivers the monologue at the top of this post, stating that the power she's absorbed from the TARDIS has allowed her to spread the words back through time and space, as a path for her to follow.

So where do I come in?  Well, I'm a big believer in fate - haven't always been so, but something happened to me, a long time ago now, that ever since has completely shaped my life.  More on this at a later date, but it was this event that I was still getting over on the 26 March 2005, and the whole 'Bad Wolf' ethos really made sense to me; everything happens for a reason, you can't change the past (thank you Simba), but you can learn from it (and thank you Rafiki). 

I now regularly use the words 'Bad Wolf' as an identity; from my mobile's bluetooth, the name of my ipod and, of course, my blogging pseudonym.  Weird obssession?  Maybe.  But being The Bad Wolf reminds me why I am where I am, as well as allowing me to (ironically) be myself.  If I wrote this blog under my real name, I'd struggle to be 100% honest, as I'm one of those people that, if asked how I am, 9 times out of 10 I say 'fine thanks, you?', when really I'll feel like shit, or I'm suffering from raging pmt, or I'm stressed up to my eyeballs, or I just wanna have a bloody good cry please, and so on.

I am The Bad Wolf, and I can create myself - not a fictitious version of me, but the real me; free from the constraints of the name I was given at birth, by someone else, who had their own ideas on how I should live my life.  The words I take, and scatter in time and space are the very words I'm typing now which, thanks to the wonder of the Internet, can be read anywhere across the globe (providing there's a decent IP available), and can (unless this blog is forcibly evicted from www-land) be read now, in the present; later, in the future; or, if I publish this now (Saturday pm), and return on say, Tuesday, you dear reader (are you there?), may well have read it yesterday, in the past.  The words lead me here, to this blog, where the cycle starts all over again; which is rather convenient isn't it?  I like a nice tidy ending; ambiguity is equivalent to laziness, imho.

Really, I suppose all bloggers are 'Bad Wolves', in that we're all trying to create an identity for oursevles, and share it with the rest of the world via the Web.  But I am The Bad Wolf, and don't you forget it, lest I hunt you down, and give you  a swift nip.  My bite is defo worse than my bark...

BW xxx

PS, Bad Wolf Bay was where, at the end of Series Two, Rose and The Doctor (by now played by the love of my life, David Tennant) had to say goodbye, after the silly girl got herself trapped in a parallel universe.  With The Doctor on this side, and Rose on the other, the walls between universes were closing, and the last gap left through which they could speak was in Norway's Dårlig Ulv-Stranden - otherwise known as...  So I though it be an appropriate title for my blog; this is where I'm supposed to be.  Also, friend and Film lecturer Legend, cites the beach as a place of grief and loss, while I reckon the sea totally signifies wiping the slate clean, and starting again; so verrrrrrry relevant then.

PPS, the song in my head today; Missing You by The Saturdays.