Bloody hard work!
No, don't worry, that's not it. I know I've been very, very absent over the past 11 months - has it really been that long? Man - But believe me, I've had my reasons.
OK,where the hell to start? Maybe where I left off last February So, I had counselling, and it was good. Seriously. I didn't need to freak out about it, story of my life; maybe my New Year's resolution should be 'I Will Not Freak Out'. Yeah, that'll work. Anywho, although it wasn't face-to-face, and therefore may not be considered as 'real', or 'proper' by some, including me at first, I'll admit, it really was helpful. Just being able to write everything down, all my deepest, darkests, and know that the person reading it was not gonna judge, or criticise what I had to say, was marvellous. That, and the fact I wasn't burdening yet another friend with my baggage. I mean, really, I could've got a similar effect if I'd just carried on blogging... wait a minute, now I realise! D'oh. But at least with the counselling, I was guaranteed a response from a pro - I assume - who, while not allowed to give advice, was able to guide my ramblings into some form of cohesive logic. Yeah, she must've been a professional, cos no one else would've stood a chance. I told her the whole family saga, and I was finally able to make some sense of the whys and wherefores of my crazy, messed up mind. I've still got everything I wrote, plus the counsellor's responses. Don't think I've read any of it since then, but it's almost comforting to know I can look back at it all again if I ever need to. Remind myself that it is do-able.
I didn't keep up with the mentoring, which I did feel a bit bad about, as everyone had gone to so much trouble to put me back together again, when I was blatantly cracking up. I just found that, by releasing all the stress and emotions over the family issues, everything else seemed to fall into place. I genuinely had a light switch moment; when one day I just felt better, in control, like I could actually do this. It was still hard, and I had my bad days, still do, but at least I didn't feel so shit-scared and alone. Always a bonus. So yeah, counselling, in any form; recommended. Failing that, write everything down, diary-stylee, or even simple bullet points, or a brainstorm - love a brainstorm - so you can make sense of how you're feeling, draw connections between thoughts and events, pinpoint triggers that make you feel good/bad/ugly.
Maybe that's one of the reasons I've started blogging again today - the second reason being to do something constructive, and not be such a lazy cow, wolf - not cos I feel crap, and need to vent, but as a preventative measure. The counselling only lasted six or seven weeks, and I found I missed it for a bit afterwards, so what better way to make sense of my innermost thoughts and anxieties, than publicly, over the World Wide Web. Genius.
I know I keep on about it, but I really can't get over how much better I feel now, in comparison to this time last year. It does get better. It's hard to believe when you're feeling rubbish, and the proverbial shoe's been on the other foot lately, with me trying to offer help to friends, so I know how difficult it is to both accept, and convince, that you will get though it. @abbey_queenofall tweeted me the other day, saying she'd read my last post (yay, somebody does), and was currently going through similar feelings. I hope I helped her a bit, basically by saying all of the above (in 140 characters, natch), and if reading my, somewhat garbled, ramblings makes one person feel a teensy bit better, then that's cool. Peace out peeps, and Happy New Year!
BW xxx
NB: Next time, I'll actually explain what I've been doing for nearly a year, to account for my lack of blogging. I'll give you some clues; it took nine months of planning, and caused a lot of pain...
Showing posts with label New Year. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New Year. Show all posts
04/01/2012
18/01/2011
MA Part II: Return of The Wolf
Back to school again tomorrow, not sure how I feel... On the one hand, hello freedom and independence (albeit briefly) from the ever-loving, ever-nagging parents. On the other hand, oh bloody hell do I really have to go through all that again?
Term 1 was, quite simply, Hell. I hated it, and it hated me. So much so, that when I saw my dear friend and PA, Gloria, last week, she said how 'rested' I looked, which was nice, till I realised this probably meant I looked totally shocking by the end of last term. To be fair, I felt totally shocking.
Ho hum, they all tell me this term's gonna feel easier, what with there only being one and a half modules compared to Term One's two and a half . It can't posibly feel any worse, can it?? As my mother always says: 'we'll see', which generally means no, so going by that logic, maybe Term Two won't be such a breeze. Still, I signed up for it, and there are now only 11 weeks between me and what will be my last ever seminar - I'm soooo Not doing a PhD. I came to that scary realisation last night; I mean I'll still have the small matter of a 20,000 word dissertation to deal with, but once (if) I've got that done (September 12th), then what the hell do I do? Get a job I suppose, Oh My God.
BW xxx
PS, woke up with John Murphy's In a Hearbeat - from the 28 Days Later (Boyle, 2002) soundtrack - in my head today. Considering I've not seen the film for a fair while, and am thinking a lot about Uni, it doesn't bode well that my subconscious has chosen a piece of music that signifies the Apocalypse. Either that, or the End really is nigh...
Term 1 was, quite simply, Hell. I hated it, and it hated me. So much so, that when I saw my dear friend and PA, Gloria, last week, she said how 'rested' I looked, which was nice, till I realised this probably meant I looked totally shocking by the end of last term. To be fair, I felt totally shocking.
Ho hum, they all tell me this term's gonna feel easier, what with there only being one and a half modules compared to Term One's two and a half . It can't posibly feel any worse, can it?? As my mother always says: 'we'll see', which generally means no, so going by that logic, maybe Term Two won't be such a breeze. Still, I signed up for it, and there are now only 11 weeks between me and what will be my last ever seminar - I'm soooo Not doing a PhD. I came to that scary realisation last night; I mean I'll still have the small matter of a 20,000 word dissertation to deal with, but once (if) I've got that done (September 12th), then what the hell do I do? Get a job I suppose, Oh My God.
BW xxx
PS, woke up with John Murphy's In a Hearbeat - from the 28 Days Later (Boyle, 2002) soundtrack - in my head today. Considering I've not seen the film for a fair while, and am thinking a lot about Uni, it doesn't bode well that my subconscious has chosen a piece of music that signifies the Apocalypse. Either that, or the End really is nigh...
14/01/2011
Bad Romance
So, David Tennant and Georgia Moffett are getting hitched; old news I know, but I've spent the past week rocking in the corner of my darkened room... Well, not quite,but I have been thinking about it a lot, no surprises there, and have come to the sad conclusion that this marriage Will Be A Farce; no surprises there then either huh? Now, I'm not being all bitter and twisted about this, actually screw that, I am, but that's not what's driving me here. I believe I have formed a very convincing argument as to why these two star-crossed lovers are not destined to be together, and this is it:
Let us start at the beginning, and probably finish somewhere near the end. On the 16th of November, 2007, the BBC broadcast a special episode of Doctor Who, as part of their annual Children in Need festivities. This episode, titled Time Crash, saw the 10th Doctor's TARDIS colliding with that of the fifth (Peter Davison), resulting in eight minutes of Tennant being all adoring-fanboy over his former self, even crediting him for his trademark trainers and glasses (fortunately he drew the line at wearing vegetables on his lapel), and his squeaky-when-excited voice. When Tennant utters the brilliantly moving line 'you were my Doctor', in that brilliantly moving way that only he can, you know for a fact that it is David saying these words, and that he deliberately picked up these influences and habits as tribute to his favourite Doctor. Then, lo and behold, the daughter of said idol; Georgia Moffett, appears in Doctor Who some 6 months later.
Now, if you're the daughter of The Doctor, your childhood's gonna be pretty full of Who I imagine. Particularly as the year that Moffett was born, 1984 - making her two years older than me, but I Am Not Bitter - was the year that Davison left the show, so his legacy would've been newly established, and he would still have been recognised, adored and, if my pinings for 10 are anything to go by, very sorely missed. Thus, Moffett would have soaked up all this admiration as a babe, and must have ate, slept and drank Doctor Who (no sexual connotations intended) for a fair few years. When you're that small, your pa's your hero, and if he's played an onscreen hero with two hearts for four years, worshipped by the masses (and David Tennant), then that feelings only gonna escalate. Who hasn't imagined/wished that Superman, Spiderman, Batman or whoever else-man was their dad? Moffett didn't need to imagne; her dad was, and still is by many, regarded as a legend.
For 23 years, Moffett was full of admiration for her father, The Doctor, and basked in his shiny limelight. Then in 2007 she acquired the perfect role, as The Doctor's daughter (typecasting or what?) in the imaginatively named episode, The Doctor's Daughter. Without going into the intricacies of the plot, the 10th Doctor initially pushes Jenny (Moffett) away, as he is scared to get too close in case he loses her; like he loses everyone else. However, he eventually warms to her - who knew how much - and accepts her as his own.
Right, recap time. Georgia Moffett is the daughter of the much-loved fifth Time Lord Peter Davson, and probably grew up watching endless repeats of Doctor Who, rather that the usual CBeebies, and playing with her dad's sonic screwdriver - sorry, that just sounds so wrong. She made her appearance on Doctor Who with this legacy behind her, and an innate passion for the show, and for the heroic, protective father-figure of The Doctor, who ultimately must connote feelings of security and love. Meanwhile, David Tennant, who is known to have been completely obsessed with Who since he was a wee lad, and who has based his look and performance on that of Davison, not only got to work alongside his idol in the TARDIS, but now gets the chance to work with his daughter.
The way I see it is this: Tennant loves Davison, and is honoured to work with his daughter Moffett, playing her father whom he worships. Moffett loves Davison (natch), and so automatically loves The Doctor. Moffett and Tennant both love Doctor Who, The Doctor and Davison, and I think this is what their relationship is based on. Moffett sees Tennant as like another father, helped by the fact that he is 13 years older than her. She is in love with The Doctor; with the idea of this wiser, older man looking out for her. I do believe that Moffett loves Tennant, but not in that way, rather, she loves him for what he represents; The Doctor. Her dad.
While there is arguably a certain amount of sexual attraction on Tennant's part; he has a history of liking younger women, particularly blondes *adds peroxide to shopping list*, he sees Moffett as like an extension of Davison. Tennant respects Davison to the upmost degree, and is obviously gonna project this loyalty onto Moffett, a) so as to gain mutual respect from daddy, and b) maybe because he feels he owes Davison; he did pinch bits of his act after all.
Basically then, I don't believe that Tennant and Moffett are in love with each other, but with what each other signifies. And that, my friends, is how I see it. See? Course, I could be completely wrong; maybe I've become a sceptical old bint at the grand age of 24... But I Am Not Bitter.
BW xxx
Let us start at the beginning, and probably finish somewhere near the end. On the 16th of November, 2007, the BBC broadcast a special episode of Doctor Who, as part of their annual Children in Need festivities. This episode, titled Time Crash, saw the 10th Doctor's TARDIS colliding with that of the fifth (Peter Davison), resulting in eight minutes of Tennant being all adoring-fanboy over his former self, even crediting him for his trademark trainers and glasses (fortunately he drew the line at wearing vegetables on his lapel), and his squeaky-when-excited voice. When Tennant utters the brilliantly moving line 'you were my Doctor', in that brilliantly moving way that only he can, you know for a fact that it is David saying these words, and that he deliberately picked up these influences and habits as tribute to his favourite Doctor. Then, lo and behold, the daughter of said idol; Georgia Moffett, appears in Doctor Who some 6 months later.
Now, if you're the daughter of The Doctor, your childhood's gonna be pretty full of Who I imagine. Particularly as the year that Moffett was born, 1984 - making her two years older than me, but I Am Not Bitter - was the year that Davison left the show, so his legacy would've been newly established, and he would still have been recognised, adored and, if my pinings for 10 are anything to go by, very sorely missed. Thus, Moffett would have soaked up all this admiration as a babe, and must have ate, slept and drank Doctor Who (no sexual connotations intended) for a fair few years. When you're that small, your pa's your hero, and if he's played an onscreen hero with two hearts for four years, worshipped by the masses (and David Tennant), then that feelings only gonna escalate. Who hasn't imagined/wished that Superman, Spiderman, Batman or whoever else-man was their dad? Moffett didn't need to imagne; her dad was, and still is by many, regarded as a legend.
For 23 years, Moffett was full of admiration for her father, The Doctor, and basked in his shiny limelight. Then in 2007 she acquired the perfect role, as The Doctor's daughter (typecasting or what?) in the imaginatively named episode, The Doctor's Daughter. Without going into the intricacies of the plot, the 10th Doctor initially pushes Jenny (Moffett) away, as he is scared to get too close in case he loses her; like he loses everyone else. However, he eventually warms to her - who knew how much - and accepts her as his own.
Right, recap time. Georgia Moffett is the daughter of the much-loved fifth Time Lord Peter Davson, and probably grew up watching endless repeats of Doctor Who, rather that the usual CBeebies, and playing with her dad's sonic screwdriver - sorry, that just sounds so wrong. She made her appearance on Doctor Who with this legacy behind her, and an innate passion for the show, and for the heroic, protective father-figure of The Doctor, who ultimately must connote feelings of security and love. Meanwhile, David Tennant, who is known to have been completely obsessed with Who since he was a wee lad, and who has based his look and performance on that of Davison, not only got to work alongside his idol in the TARDIS, but now gets the chance to work with his daughter.
The way I see it is this: Tennant loves Davison, and is honoured to work with his daughter Moffett, playing her father whom he worships. Moffett loves Davison (natch), and so automatically loves The Doctor. Moffett and Tennant both love Doctor Who, The Doctor and Davison, and I think this is what their relationship is based on. Moffett sees Tennant as like another father, helped by the fact that he is 13 years older than her. She is in love with The Doctor; with the idea of this wiser, older man looking out for her. I do believe that Moffett loves Tennant, but not in that way, rather, she loves him for what he represents; The Doctor. Her dad.
While there is arguably a certain amount of sexual attraction on Tennant's part; he has a history of liking younger women, particularly blondes *adds peroxide to shopping list*, he sees Moffett as like an extension of Davison. Tennant respects Davison to the upmost degree, and is obviously gonna project this loyalty onto Moffett, a) so as to gain mutual respect from daddy, and b) maybe because he feels he owes Davison; he did pinch bits of his act after all.
Basically then, I don't believe that Tennant and Moffett are in love with each other, but with what each other signifies. And that, my friends, is how I see it. See? Course, I could be completely wrong; maybe I've become a sceptical old bint at the grand age of 24... But I Am Not Bitter.
BW xxx
24/12/2010
Talking Talking Happy Talk
I'm baaaa-aaaaack, did yer miss me?? No? Oh, right then... Well I've missed blogging for sure. Feel a bit like a neglectful parent but, to be honest, I've had some pretty legit reasons for my absence. Yeahhhh, so haven't had such a good time of it of late, what with one thing and another. Obviously there's been all the stress of Uni, which I won't go over again, see my earlier post Depressions of a Mad Wolf for details. But I'm delighted to announce that I'm on top of it, in fact more than on top of it; I've climbed the mountain and am casually lazing on the other side, enjoying a crafty fag and appreciating the smaller things in life, like puppies and raindrops. Well not quite, I don't smoke, but you get the picture. I've finished all three of my essays in plenty of time for Christmas, and am now officially on holiday. Phew, thank Crunchie for that.
I still don't quite know what happened back there, why I had such a meltdown, and although I'm feeling really good at the moment (haven't cried for 9 days, record!), I'm worried it will happen again. I mean, it was only 13,000 words, and I had enough time to do it, so why all the fuss? Pffffffft, I really dunno. I think the pressure just got too much, and I literally boiled over. There's also been some long-standing family stuff going on, which I can't really go into now. I mean, I want to, think it would be quite cathartic actually, but a couple of close friends read this blog, and I don't wanna say stuff on here without talking to them first. So let's just say that some old crap got dragged up again, and it didn't help.
Talking of talking, I have actually talked to somebody about the aforementioned crap, namely the brilliant and wise beyond her years, VW. I'm not normally very good at offloading, it's like Donna (Catherine Tate) said to the Doctor once: 'you talk all the time but you don't say anything'. Yep, that about sums me up too. I'm a great listener, and can talk for England, or any other country for that matter, but when it comes to sharing my emotional stuff, I'm harder to break than the Da Vinci code. Dunno why, always have been. Hate crying in front of people for a start, am even less attractive crying than normal, and I am a crier, so 'fraid one goes hand in hand with the other.
Anyway, so I talked to VW, and told her things that I've not told anyone before, which was really hard. Really hard. I didn't cry though. Progress. She gave me some advice, but mainly it was good to have someone to listen. One of her gems of wisdom was to talk more, and she's right, so I will. I'm even signed up for a mentoring session at Uni on the 26th of Jan. Apparently 'mentoring' is like counselling but different as you get support with study skills etc. Maybe it's what I need. What with the home stuff and Uni and everything, it probably would be good to talk. Think that's why I like blogging, it's kinda like therapy. Only rather one-way... Didn't even have any counselling after The Event, which I probably should've done, as even now I can't think about it without going all cringey.
I'm hoping that 2011 will see a much calmer, less tearful, happy wolf. 2010 wasn't a bad year on the whole, in fact it was frickin' great! Apart from the last couple months... Oh, and last New Year's Day... When The Doctor regenerated? Duhhhhh. Highlights of 2010 then, I graduated; one of the best moments of my life, and got accepted onto the MA; which a few years ago I never would've seen happening. I had the best birthday that I've had in a very long time, which lasted a week, and involved some amazing friends and relatively little alcohol. I celebrated living in my home for a year, which was very special for me and my mother on a personal level; new beginnings and all that. And I've developed a very close, stronger than super glue, bond with VW (God help her), who has really helped boost my confidence and, like I say, just been the rock I needed, showing me that it really is ok to share stuff. Even if it involves the waterworks I guess. Even her Christmas card, which she bought round today, made me well up (in a good way); she said that I was amazing, and not to forget it. Of course, she's right. She told me off today too, for working too hard. Of course, she's right.
So gonna try and be positive about the forthcoming year. Yes I've still got another term and a 20,000 word dissertation to get through, but I'll have the mentoring support (providing I ask for it). Yes my family are still gonna drive me insane, but they're my family, and I gotta stick by 'em... Some of them anyway. If I don't who will? No one else would have them. And I've still got my friends, some of whom are probably gonna hear a lot more from me in the very near future. Poor buggers. In fact, run you people that know me, run faaaaarrrrr away!
Merry Christmas everyone, and have an awesome New Year,
BW xxx
PS, I've deliberately avoided mentioning until now the fact that, for the first Christmas in five years, David Tennant won't be The Doctor. It's just too gruesome a thought, as a certain Ms Golightly would say (RIP Blake Edwards). It will be a strange and sad Christmas evening, without David Tennant lighting up my bedroom - what? I watch Doctor Who in bed, what on earth did you think I meant? You disgusting lot.
PPS, in case I don't get chance to blog again before New Year, here are my resolutions:
To be a nicer, more supportive, daughter.
To blog more, I know I've been pretty slack lately.
To say that I need help/support/a chat/a blub as soon as I need it, not several weeks later. I don't ever wanna feel like that again.
To be happy.
I still don't quite know what happened back there, why I had such a meltdown, and although I'm feeling really good at the moment (haven't cried for 9 days, record!), I'm worried it will happen again. I mean, it was only 13,000 words, and I had enough time to do it, so why all the fuss? Pffffffft, I really dunno. I think the pressure just got too much, and I literally boiled over. There's also been some long-standing family stuff going on, which I can't really go into now. I mean, I want to, think it would be quite cathartic actually, but a couple of close friends read this blog, and I don't wanna say stuff on here without talking to them first. So let's just say that some old crap got dragged up again, and it didn't help.
Talking of talking, I have actually talked to somebody about the aforementioned crap, namely the brilliant and wise beyond her years, VW. I'm not normally very good at offloading, it's like Donna (Catherine Tate) said to the Doctor once: 'you talk all the time but you don't say anything'. Yep, that about sums me up too. I'm a great listener, and can talk for England, or any other country for that matter, but when it comes to sharing my emotional stuff, I'm harder to break than the Da Vinci code. Dunno why, always have been. Hate crying in front of people for a start, am even less attractive crying than normal, and I am a crier, so 'fraid one goes hand in hand with the other.
Anyway, so I talked to VW, and told her things that I've not told anyone before, which was really hard. Really hard. I didn't cry though. Progress. She gave me some advice, but mainly it was good to have someone to listen. One of her gems of wisdom was to talk more, and she's right, so I will. I'm even signed up for a mentoring session at Uni on the 26th of Jan. Apparently 'mentoring' is like counselling but different as you get support with study skills etc. Maybe it's what I need. What with the home stuff and Uni and everything, it probably would be good to talk. Think that's why I like blogging, it's kinda like therapy. Only rather one-way... Didn't even have any counselling after The Event, which I probably should've done, as even now I can't think about it without going all cringey.
I'm hoping that 2011 will see a much calmer, less tearful, happy wolf. 2010 wasn't a bad year on the whole, in fact it was frickin' great! Apart from the last couple months... Oh, and last New Year's Day... When The Doctor regenerated? Duhhhhh. Highlights of 2010 then, I graduated; one of the best moments of my life, and got accepted onto the MA; which a few years ago I never would've seen happening. I had the best birthday that I've had in a very long time, which lasted a week, and involved some amazing friends and relatively little alcohol. I celebrated living in my home for a year, which was very special for me and my mother on a personal level; new beginnings and all that. And I've developed a very close, stronger than super glue, bond with VW (God help her), who has really helped boost my confidence and, like I say, just been the rock I needed, showing me that it really is ok to share stuff. Even if it involves the waterworks I guess. Even her Christmas card, which she bought round today, made me well up (in a good way); she said that I was amazing, and not to forget it. Of course, she's right. She told me off today too, for working too hard. Of course, she's right.
So gonna try and be positive about the forthcoming year. Yes I've still got another term and a 20,000 word dissertation to get through, but I'll have the mentoring support (providing I ask for it). Yes my family are still gonna drive me insane, but they're my family, and I gotta stick by 'em... Some of them anyway. If I don't who will? No one else would have them. And I've still got my friends, some of whom are probably gonna hear a lot more from me in the very near future. Poor buggers. In fact, run you people that know me, run faaaaarrrrr away!
Merry Christmas everyone, and have an awesome New Year,
BW xxx
PS, I've deliberately avoided mentioning until now the fact that, for the first Christmas in five years, David Tennant won't be The Doctor. It's just too gruesome a thought, as a certain Ms Golightly would say (RIP Blake Edwards). It will be a strange and sad Christmas evening, without David Tennant lighting up my bedroom - what? I watch Doctor Who in bed, what on earth did you think I meant? You disgusting lot.
PPS, in case I don't get chance to blog again before New Year, here are my resolutions:
To be a nicer, more supportive, daughter.
To blog more, I know I've been pretty slack lately.
To say that I need help/support/a chat/a blub as soon as I need it, not several weeks later. I don't ever wanna feel like that again.
To be happy.
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