*Clap clap clap clap*
Ok, so my job's not a joke, as I don't have one, and I'm not broke; though I'm certainly not rich. Nowhere near. I wouldn't even describe myself as 'comfortable', just um, stable? My love life definitely is DOA. Fact. But, all that aside, I'm using the above Rembrandts lyric to illustrate the following point: that friends are there for you, well, me anyway.
I finally shared a secret with a friend, specifically Gloria, a couple weeks ago, and it really did feel like the proverbial weight had been lifted. I still can't really elaborate too much on what this secret is, though I suppose this blog is meant to be anonymous... Still, you never know, so let's just say I used to live with a very difficult, at times violent, family member; but I don't anymore. Haven't told many people about this, a) it's not the kinda thing that one can easily bring up in conversation, b) other family members would be furious with me if they found out I'd been telling tales, in case the 'culprit' was put in jeopardy; God forbid. Families have very strange ideologies don't they? Kind of a pack mentality. Anyway, c) it's bloody hard to talk about.
On the one hand I feel really guilty, like every time I do say something, I'm betraying certain members of my family, or pack; those that have seemingly put all this in the past, and have moved on. Maybe I'm not a very forgiving person. On the other hand, I feel like I should be allowed to talk about such things if I want to. It's my right, damn it. And aside from the whole freedom of speech aspect, I got to the point recently that if I didn't talk, I was gonna go crazy. Again.
That's one of the many reasons why I was so messed up last year as, although this is technically all in the past, it can still so easily flare up again, with Christmas being a major catalyst. Is it me, or does Christmas make everything like 10 times worse? It's such a big deal to be all together as one big happy family, but the reality is that sometimes this is a Total Nightmare. So yeah, Christmas + family issues + mountain of essays = one stressy wolf.
I went to the Mentoring session, and it was ok, not what I expected, which I think is a good thing. I was sooooo nervous, but all I really had to do was talk about how hard I found last term, within the context of university, nothing else. Phew. Going again this Wednesday, expecting (hoping) for practical advice on how best to tackle this 20,000 word dissertation, which I'm still dreading.
I've signed up for counselling too, which I can honestly say I am terrified about. I mean, I think it's about time I got some - counselling, not... anyway - but I'm freaking out. How much do I say about, well, anything? I know I don't have to say anything at all, but it's totally connected, and totally turning me into a raving loon, so if I don't say anything, then surely I'll be limiting how much help the counsellor can offer me, and how much benefit I'm going to get out of it. But, and this why I rarely tell people, what if what I say gets taken way too dramatically, and they think I'm still in danger, which I'm not, for the record, but what if? It would rip my family apart, which is why I haven't told any of them; they'd freak out that I'd dob this person in, and probably tell me that I didn't need any counselling, like they did before, after The Event. I did need it then, I was a mess, but still, mothers know best.
I also, plain and simply, just don't want to worry them, they've got/had enough problems, how can I add to them by raking up the (pretty recent) past? To that end, I've told my mother, who I live with, and who is my main carer, absolutely nada. And, as far as she knows, my first counselling session, at 9am on the 23rd, is a change of seminar time. She could consequently 'kill' my poor innocent lecturer. I am an awful daughter, but what else can I do? I hate lying, though I am scarily very good at it. This is something that I need to do by myself, for myself. With the help of Gloria, of course, who I owe so much too; note-taker, friend, adviser, confidant, counsellor, alibi, partner-in-crime, provider of much chocolate etc. I feel just as bad for having to get her to lie for me too, though I guess she wouldn't do it if she wasn't such a loyal pal, and for that I am forever grateful.
I guess if, like me, your life involves being totally dependent on others, the only way to achieve any form of independence is to depend even more heavily on those you trust most; in my case, friends.
BW xxx
25/01/2011
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
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
20/01/2011
From Little Tom Hardy, to Big Bane
Had to laugh, just read this article by Lacy Bryant regarding the awesome news that Tom Hardy will be Bane, in the next Batman film. She describes Hardy as 'the little Inception guy', WTF? How can you possibly describe Hardy as 'little'?? No part of that man is little - or so I've heard! - but honestly, LITTLE?? Has she seen him? With Her Eyes?! Rant over with, I'm sure he'll be brilliant. I know nothing of this Bane character, but from what I've just quickly skim-read (from Wikipedia - don't try that at home kids, it'll rot your brain), and glimpsed on Google Images; Perfect Casting! He's a buff (check), master-minded supervillain, with some rather deep-rooted issues. So Hardy's quietly brooding intensity should do just the trick then. That, and the fact he's Drop Dead Gorgeous. LITTLE??
BW xxx
22/01/2011
I've just been back to the above offending article to see if my comment was published; it wasn't. Obviously Ms Bryant didn't like what I had to say, which was basically the same as I've said here. Some people just can't handle the truth. Freedom of speech? My hairy wolf's ar-
BW xxx
22/01/2011
I've just been back to the above offending article to see if my comment was published; it wasn't. Obviously Ms Bryant didn't like what I had to say, which was basically the same as I've said here. Some people just can't handle the truth. Freedom of speech? My hairy wolf's ar-
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...
16/01/2011
Who's The Daddy
Can I just say, for the record, that I thought of the above caption AGES ago, long before The Sun. I just hoped I'd never have to use it.
*UPDATE*
Yeah, so that kinda puts the knockers (pardon the pun) on my theory, as they're not getting married 'cos they're infatuated with the idea of each other, but 'cos Tennant's gone and got her knocked up. Though, if one is to look at it from that angle, I guess it shows he's trying to do the right thing [With the Wrong Woman]. Ahh, bless. Either that, or she did it on purpose to trap him... which I really hope is not true of course, David's a better judge of character than that, right? But maybe he does feel trapped. Maybe he's trying to maintain his 'I'm a good guy' star image. Maybe he's wanting to prove himself to Davison; here's a real ma that won't walked out on your daughter, Mr Fifth Doctor Sir. Or maybe he really does love this girl, and wants to spend the rest of his life with her. Hmmm, maybe. Suppose the wedding is taking place next New Year's Day (allegedly), when the child would be around 8 months old (allegedly she's 5 months preggers now), so it's not really shotgun. Close though, very close.
Oh well, I can (and will) still look. After all, Johnny Depp's got kids, and has been married - what, twice? - and I most definitely look (leer) at him. On the other hand, my theory could still be right; that Tennant and Moffett aren't made for each other, and when they realise this, I could be in with a shot. As my friend Zee said; if the shit does hit the fan, I could get Tennant, plus joint custody of his child, who we know is gonna be gorgeous, without ever having to have given birth to said child, or be involved with the icky bits of its upringing. Win win!
BW xxx
PS, watched Inception (Nolan, 2010) for the first time last night, and Loved. It. What's more, I understood it, which for me is a miracle; I don't usually 'get' films like that. The delicious Tom Hardy helped take my mind off the Tennant situation for a couple of hours too, hope he wins the Rising Star Award at this years BAFTAs. But, the Big question re Inception is, did the spinning top stop spinning? Discuss.
*UPDATE*
Yeah, so that kinda puts the knockers (pardon the pun) on my theory, as they're not getting married 'cos they're infatuated with the idea of each other, but 'cos Tennant's gone and got her knocked up. Though, if one is to look at it from that angle, I guess it shows he's trying to do the right thing [With the Wrong Woman]. Ahh, bless. Either that, or she did it on purpose to trap him... which I really hope is not true of course, David's a better judge of character than that, right? But maybe he does feel trapped. Maybe he's trying to maintain his 'I'm a good guy' star image. Maybe he's wanting to prove himself to Davison; here's a real ma that won't walked out on your daughter, Mr Fifth Doctor Sir. Or maybe he really does love this girl, and wants to spend the rest of his life with her. Hmmm, maybe. Suppose the wedding is taking place next New Year's Day (allegedly), when the child would be around 8 months old (allegedly she's 5 months preggers now), so it's not really shotgun. Close though, very close.
Oh well, I can (and will) still look. After all, Johnny Depp's got kids, and has been married - what, twice? - and I most definitely look (leer) at him. On the other hand, my theory could still be right; that Tennant and Moffett aren't made for each other, and when they realise this, I could be in with a shot. As my friend Zee said; if the shit does hit the fan, I could get Tennant, plus joint custody of his child, who we know is gonna be gorgeous, without ever having to have given birth to said child, or be involved with the icky bits of its upringing. Win win!
BW xxx
PS, watched Inception (Nolan, 2010) for the first time last night, and Loved. It. What's more, I understood it, which for me is a miracle; I don't usually 'get' films like that. The delicious Tom Hardy helped take my mind off the Tennant situation for a couple of hours too, hope he wins the Rising Star Award at this years BAFTAs. But, the Big question re Inception is, did the spinning top stop spinning? Discuss.
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
04/01/2011
Apocalypse Now?
Was just turning the TV off last night when I caught this freaky little story on BBC 3's 60 Second bulletin:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-12105157
Basically, a whole load of birds fell out of the skies above Arkansans, USA. Now, if like me, you've seen FlashForward (ABC, 2009) and/or The Core (Amiel, 2003) you too will be freaking out about just how long humanity has left on this fragile rock. See, I have watched a lot of disaster movies, and they scare me way more than any horror ever has. Of course, I'm not saying I've never been spooked by a good horror, I saw Candyman (Rose, 1992) far too young, and kept imagining Tony Todd rising up from under my bed *shudders*. But I am able to rationalise that, for the most part, the content of horror films is very unlikely to come true. Even those that are 'based on true events' have huge amounts of artistic licence. Horror films play on the whole storytelling tradition, as that's just what they are; stories. Who hasn't scared themselves shitless while sitting around a campfire (or miniature fondue set on your bedroom floor), telling horrific ghost stories?
Disaster films, on the other hand, Could Happen. Anytime. And this is what's flipping scary. The Earth has been hit by asteroids before, so who's to say it won't happen again, soon?? Just because humans have taken over the lease, doesn't make us any safer. It's not like the greenhouse gases are going to act as a barrier against anything hurtling towards us at 50,000 mph (give or take). Now these birds are falling out the sky, á la The Core (where the Earth's core stopped spinning), and it makes yer think. Well, it makes me think anyway, I also think it rather strange that there have been so many earthquakes, mine collapses, tsunamis and freaky weather etc. I mean, coincidence? Really?
Maybe I should just steer clear of the disaster genre altogether, focus on the minutia of life, like what to have for tea, whether I need a haircut, when my next essay's due in, the current shocking state of the TV schedule, etc. Still, they do say that the world's gonna end on 21.12.12, so maybe this is the beginning... On that note, I'm off to play Sims 2, where the world never ends, unless I make it so, muahahaha.
BW xxx
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-us-canada-12105157
Basically, a whole load of birds fell out of the skies above Arkansans, USA. Now, if like me, you've seen FlashForward (ABC, 2009) and/or The Core (Amiel, 2003) you too will be freaking out about just how long humanity has left on this fragile rock. See, I have watched a lot of disaster movies, and they scare me way more than any horror ever has. Of course, I'm not saying I've never been spooked by a good horror, I saw Candyman (Rose, 1992) far too young, and kept imagining Tony Todd rising up from under my bed *shudders*. But I am able to rationalise that, for the most part, the content of horror films is very unlikely to come true. Even those that are 'based on true events' have huge amounts of artistic licence. Horror films play on the whole storytelling tradition, as that's just what they are; stories. Who hasn't scared themselves shitless while sitting around a campfire (or miniature fondue set on your bedroom floor), telling horrific ghost stories?
Disaster films, on the other hand, Could Happen. Anytime. And this is what's flipping scary. The Earth has been hit by asteroids before, so who's to say it won't happen again, soon?? Just because humans have taken over the lease, doesn't make us any safer. It's not like the greenhouse gases are going to act as a barrier against anything hurtling towards us at 50,000 mph (give or take). Now these birds are falling out the sky, á la The Core (where the Earth's core stopped spinning), and it makes yer think. Well, it makes me think anyway, I also think it rather strange that there have been so many earthquakes, mine collapses, tsunamis and freaky weather etc. I mean, coincidence? Really?
Maybe I should just steer clear of the disaster genre altogether, focus on the minutia of life, like what to have for tea, whether I need a haircut, when my next essay's due in, the current shocking state of the TV schedule, etc. Still, they do say that the world's gonna end on 21.12.12, so maybe this is the beginning... On that note, I'm off to play Sims 2, where the world never ends, unless I make it so, muahahaha.
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.
13/12/2010
Who's Top Companion? Er, Rose is!
Check out my comment on the Radio Times' poll of best Doctor Who companions:
http://www.radiotimes.com/blogs/1103-doctor-who-billie-piper-rose-tyler-voted-best-companion/
I will blog properly soon. Promise.
BW xxx
http://www.radiotimes.com/blogs/1103-doctor-who-billie-piper-rose-tyler-voted-best-companion/
I will blog properly soon. Promise.
BW xxx
29/11/2010
Depressions of a Mad Wolf
Yes I know, I've commited the ultimate sin of blogging and haven't posted for, what, a week? Just having a few psychological issues at the moment, hopefully normal service will soon be resumed. Again, nothing has actually happened, but last Wednesday I had a complete meltdown, where everything just got way, way, WAY too much, and I ended up crying solidly for a good three hours. Seriously.
I don't like to say I'm Depressed (with a capital D), as there are people in the world actually suffering from this illness, and describing yourself as 'Depressed' totally belittles the severity of the real thing. But, I did feel awful last week; it's been brewing for a while, and at the time I would've said I felt depressed - with a very small d.
Have got so much work to do at Uni, and I'm completely shattered - our terms are 11 weeks long, which is crucifying to say the least. Just want a break; in the sense of some time out, not anything to do with bones, because that's the last thing I want. Funny that, how one word can simultaneously mean something that I'm desperate for, yet something that I constantly dread... Anyway, whenever I think of the Christmas holidays, I'm reminded of how much work I've got to do in them, and it's driving me insane.
VW was brilliant, as usual, last week and told me to a) calm down, and b) prioritise - concentrate on one thing at a time. Of course she's right, and I'm now trying to take things a bit slower and easier. Skived off Uni today, which I never do, but it was just more constructive to stay home in the relative warmth, and work, than sit in a seminar which will have no bearing on the content of any of my essays. Does mean I haven't seen South for a week, which was a tough price to pay. Have even drawn up a little timetable of when I want to start and finish each essay - sad I know, but it helps me sleep at night - and I think I'll be ok. Doesn't stop me worrying about the slightest thing at the moment though; I think I've totally lost the plot actually. It really bothers me that no one else seems to be such a gibbering wreck as me - though, I wouldn't wish how I felt last Wednesday on too many people - and also that, if I'm this messed up about writing 12,000 words in 7 weeks - which is what it ultimately boils down to - then what the hell am I going to be like when it comes to writing a 20,000 word dissertation? I've spent many a fun hour contemplating that.
I'll be back, but I may be some time...
BW xxx
PS, Dark Handsome Stranger announced that last Wednesday was his final seminar with us. As if I wasn't depressed enough, could've cried there and then. But I didn't. Waited till I got home instead.
I don't like to say I'm Depressed (with a capital D), as there are people in the world actually suffering from this illness, and describing yourself as 'Depressed' totally belittles the severity of the real thing. But, I did feel awful last week; it's been brewing for a while, and at the time I would've said I felt depressed - with a very small d.
Have got so much work to do at Uni, and I'm completely shattered - our terms are 11 weeks long, which is crucifying to say the least. Just want a break; in the sense of some time out, not anything to do with bones, because that's the last thing I want. Funny that, how one word can simultaneously mean something that I'm desperate for, yet something that I constantly dread... Anyway, whenever I think of the Christmas holidays, I'm reminded of how much work I've got to do in them, and it's driving me insane.
VW was brilliant, as usual, last week and told me to a) calm down, and b) prioritise - concentrate on one thing at a time. Of course she's right, and I'm now trying to take things a bit slower and easier. Skived off Uni today, which I never do, but it was just more constructive to stay home in the relative warmth, and work, than sit in a seminar which will have no bearing on the content of any of my essays. Does mean I haven't seen South for a week, which was a tough price to pay. Have even drawn up a little timetable of when I want to start and finish each essay - sad I know, but it helps me sleep at night - and I think I'll be ok. Doesn't stop me worrying about the slightest thing at the moment though; I think I've totally lost the plot actually. It really bothers me that no one else seems to be such a gibbering wreck as me - though, I wouldn't wish how I felt last Wednesday on too many people - and also that, if I'm this messed up about writing 12,000 words in 7 weeks - which is what it ultimately boils down to - then what the hell am I going to be like when it comes to writing a 20,000 word dissertation? I've spent many a fun hour contemplating that.
I'll be back, but I may be some time...
BW xxx
PS, Dark Handsome Stranger announced that last Wednesday was his final seminar with us. As if I wasn't depressed enough, could've cried there and then. But I didn't. Waited till I got home instead.
21/11/2010
Avant-garde, or just plain bizarre?
Had to do a presentation this Monday gone all about avant-garde cinema which, I shall openly admit, has never appealed to me in the slightest, on account of it's sheer weirdness. However, as one quarter of Group A (for awesome, duhhh), I thought that we should really make an effort on this one. I mean, our last attempt was pretty shite, and it was for South's module. I think he was suitably impressed - mainly by me, natch - so here's hoping you, dear readers, are equally mesmorised by my thoughts. Feel free to comment on the contrary, I can take it.
What is 'Avant-garde'?
The term avant-garde is said to have originated in the late 15th century to mean 'vanguard' or 'advance guard', and was adopted by the arts at the beginning of the 1800s to signify innovation and experimentation. The French Socialist thinker, Henri de Saint-Simon, was credited with first using the expression in this way (quelle surprise, it's always the French), as he believed that artists, along with industrialists and scientists, had the social power to lead society:
Ok, so O'Pray suggests that avant-garde cinema has always been used as a means of capturing and safeguarding snippets of everyday life, particularly by such 'minority' groups as: scientists, politicians, pornographers (minority? Really?), and advertisers. Thus, films belonging to the avant-garde movement are regularly influenced by the above marginal sections of society and, although censorship prevents unnaceptable material leaking into and affecting the flow of money that mainstream cinema accrues, this restraint has never been total. Indeed, avant-garde films are generally made in opposition to the popular, and are often screened in churches, clubs and galleries; basically anywhere that isn't a cinema, so their, at times, contraversial content seems to duck below the radar.
The link between avant-garde cinema and the other arts continues further, as many of its film-makers, such as Greenaway, Jarman and Brakhage, began their careers as art students, at a time when modernism was the dogs' danglies, and their films regularly addressed issues raised in painting.
In terms of the British avant-garde movement, centred around the London Film-makers' Co-operation (LFMC) the 1980s saw many influences and changes:
These allegorical referrals provide the viewer with a means of interpreting and understanding this otherwise super-complex film. As Greenaway himself said, in a 1991 Cineaste interview:
What is 'Avant-garde'?
The term avant-garde is said to have originated in the late 15th century to mean 'vanguard' or 'advance guard', and was adopted by the arts at the beginning of the 1800s to signify innovation and experimentation. The French Socialist thinker, Henri de Saint-Simon, was credited with first using the expression in this way (quelle surprise, it's always the French), as he believed that artists, along with industrialists and scientists, had the social power to lead society:
It is we, artists, who will serve you as avant garde: the power of the arts is in fact most immediate and most rapid: when we wish to spread new ideas among men, we inscribe them on marble or on canvas;... and in that way above all we exert an electric and victorious influence. (Saint-Simon, qtd. in Hobbs, 1997:4)I'm now going to take a gigantic, TARDIS-like leap forward through time and space to the 1990s; when Spice Girls ruled the world, Furbies and Tamagotchis were IN (I never owned either), and a little chap called Michael O'Pray was writing about the British when Spice Girls ruled the world, Furbies and Tamagotchis were IN (I never owned either), and a little chap called Michael O'Pray was writing about the British avant-garde film in, funnily enough, The British Avant-Garde Film 1926 to 1995. Now, O'Pray has done a little summary of all the decades, from the 1920s and 30s, to the 1980s, when the film, A Zed and Two Noughts (Greenaway, 1985); the focus of this 'ere blog post, was made. For the purposes of this blog, the patience of its readers, and the willpower of its writer, I'm only gonna concentrate on the 1980s, but if you wish to know more, please cast your gaze over the reference list below.
Ok, so O'Pray suggests that avant-garde cinema has always been used as a means of capturing and safeguarding snippets of everyday life, particularly by such 'minority' groups as: scientists, politicians, pornographers (minority? Really?), and advertisers. Thus, films belonging to the avant-garde movement are regularly influenced by the above marginal sections of society and, although censorship prevents unnaceptable material leaking into and affecting the flow of money that mainstream cinema accrues, this restraint has never been total. Indeed, avant-garde films are generally made in opposition to the popular, and are often screened in churches, clubs and galleries; basically anywhere that isn't a cinema, so their, at times, contraversial content seems to duck below the radar.
The link between avant-garde cinema and the other arts continues further, as many of its film-makers, such as Greenaway, Jarman and Brakhage, began their careers as art students, at a time when modernism was the dogs' danglies, and their films regularly addressed issues raised in painting.
In terms of the British avant-garde movement, centred around the London Film-makers' Co-operation (LFMC) the 1980s saw many influences and changes:
- The impact of the women's, punk and Black independant film-making movements.
- A new, younger breed of film-makers returning to an 'underground' ideal; the opposition and confrontation of the established ideologies of the older generation, like punk's rejection of mainstream music.
- The influx of 'Super-8' film-makers - those who chose to shoot in the rather amateurish, low-budget Super-8 filmstock, instead of the conventional and high-quality 16mm.
- The birth of Channel 4 in 1982, who promised to support innovative work, and was an important source of funding for films of the avant-garde, thanks to commisioning editor, Rod Stoneman. However, while the channel screened documentaries on such fillm-makers as Jeff Keen, which served to broaden the spectatorship, the restrictions of broadcast TV made some directors sceptical of its value.
A Zed and Two Noughts (Greenaway, 1985)
*SPOILERS*
Moving on then, to the above film, which I suggest you watch before you read the rest of this post; it might make it bit easier to understand. Might.
I won't bore you with a synopsis; a) because the film has several narratives from which the viewer is supposed to chose from, and far from me to dictate how others should understand it (or not) and b), because I think that, in some cases, the provision of a synopsis suggests that the writer is lazy (it's a good filler), and assumes the reader is fairly dim - surely if you're researching the context of a film, you're gonna know the basic plot, right? So I'm just gonna get straight to the nitty-gritty.
On the 24th of April, 1997, the director of A Zed and Two Noughts, Peter Greenaway, gave a lecture on his style of film-making, stating that his aim was one of 'maximum ambiguity' (qtd in Petrolle, 2008:159). Petrolle goes on to say that Greenaway's films interrogate knowledge by their self-consciousness, unremmiting theoreticism, ambiguity, and pluralistic, perverse nature.
In Greenaway's DVD introduction, he suggests that A Zed and Two Noughts, or Z00, should be read as three seperate films: on twin-ship, ecology - the world as a zoo - and cinema as a manipulation of light (nothing ground-breakingly new there then). He cites Jean-Luc Godard, of the French New Wave strand of film-makers and critics, who said that the 17th century Dutch painter, Johannes Vermeer, was the first cinematographer, as he made 'extraordinary manipulation essentially of the product of light' (DVD intro, 2003). Greenaway was fascinated by Vermeer, calling him 'invisible', and wanted to create a character for him. He also resurrects Hannicus Van Meegeren, another Dutch painter, this time from the 20th century, who became famous (infamous?) for his forgery of a number of Vermeer's. He was arrested about 12 years later, you'll all be relieved to know.
What has all this got to do with Z00? Well, the film constantly references Vermeer's works, as I hope the following images demonstrate:
*SPOILERS*
Moving on then, to the above film, which I suggest you watch before you read the rest of this post; it might make it bit easier to understand. Might.
I won't bore you with a synopsis; a) because the film has several narratives from which the viewer is supposed to chose from, and far from me to dictate how others should understand it (or not) and b), because I think that, in some cases, the provision of a synopsis suggests that the writer is lazy (it's a good filler), and assumes the reader is fairly dim - surely if you're researching the context of a film, you're gonna know the basic plot, right? So I'm just gonna get straight to the nitty-gritty.
On the 24th of April, 1997, the director of A Zed and Two Noughts, Peter Greenaway, gave a lecture on his style of film-making, stating that his aim was one of 'maximum ambiguity' (qtd in Petrolle, 2008:159). Petrolle goes on to say that Greenaway's films interrogate knowledge by their self-consciousness, unremmiting theoreticism, ambiguity, and pluralistic, perverse nature.
In Greenaway's DVD introduction, he suggests that A Zed and Two Noughts, or Z00, should be read as three seperate films: on twin-ship, ecology - the world as a zoo - and cinema as a manipulation of light (nothing ground-breakingly new there then). He cites Jean-Luc Godard, of the French New Wave strand of film-makers and critics, who said that the 17th century Dutch painter, Johannes Vermeer, was the first cinematographer, as he made 'extraordinary manipulation essentially of the product of light' (DVD intro, 2003). Greenaway was fascinated by Vermeer, calling him 'invisible', and wanted to create a character for him. He also resurrects Hannicus Van Meegeren, another Dutch painter, this time from the 20th century, who became famous (infamous?) for his forgery of a number of Vermeer's. He was arrested about 12 years later, you'll all be relieved to know.
What has all this got to do with Z00? Well, the film constantly references Vermeer's works, as I hope the following images demonstrate:
 |
The Girl with the Red Hat - 1665-67 |
 |
| Venus de Milo and Van Meegeren in A Zed and Two Noughts - 35:37 |
 |
| The Music Lesson - 1662-65 |
 |
| A Zed and Two Noughts film poster |
I would like my movies to work the way Dutch paintings did, on literal and metaphorical levels. If you've got that as a premise it's no problem at all to find all the information that ought to go in the frame - all the cultural allegorical material. (qtd. in Petrolle, 2008:160).
Allegory, according to Madsen, is all about the focus on interpretation, and how bloody difficult it can be to make sense of things. With allegory at its heart, Z00 reminds us of the desire to understand, and it places a great importance on the perception and production of meaning. Understanding paintings, for example, can be very subjective; the artist may well be trying to convey a certain message, but the viewer will draw their own conclusions - sometimes based on their age, gender, ethnicity, moral values and so on. In Dutch paintings, such as Vermeer's, meaning is situated between a realistic representation, and the symbolic sum of coded objects - often hidden as household items, spatial relations and characters. Consequently, a painting's hidden meanings and suggestions can be easily overlooked, and Z00 plays on this by constantly throwing the viewer red-herrings and random, misleading clues to follow. Vermeer's paintings require the viewer to reflect on their nature, purpose and signifying strategies, and Z00 asks the same. The Music Lesson (above) in particular evokes self-reflexivity, by depicting a mirror reflecting an easel. The above film poster mirrors this (pun intended), by showing camera tripods in a frame behind Greenaway; connoting the extreme self-reflexivity of cinema too.
It came up in Monday's seminar that the characters in Z00 are so flaming odd, that no-one could identify with them. I would argue though, that we're not supposed to identify, or even like, the film's collection of nutters. Rather, they serve a purpose, as images to interpret; like Venus de Milo (see above), who is commissioned by Van Meegeren to make a dress for another character, Alba Bewick, who allegedly resembles the women of Vermeer's paintings, namely The Music Lesson and The Concert. So, you see, the characters in Z00 all fit together to form certain meanings and ideas for the reader to work out. Granted, they're still proper weird.
The film is also about twin-ship, and the phenomena of coincidence. The two protagonists, twin brothers Oswald and Oliver (the two 0s?), both lose their wives simultaneously in a car crash. The car, driven by Alba Bewick (Buick is a car manufacturer), crashes into a swan (what else?) on Swan's Way (of course), and the brothers (both zoologists) become totally obsessed with trying to sort these coincidences into sorm form of narrative, in order to make sense of this bizarre trgedy. The brothers' quest for answers parallels our own search for details within the film, that will enable us to make sense of the plot. This duality signifies th process of producing meaning; the attempt to locate, and then connect, a series of events, from which to tell a coherent story.
Obviously, if you'v seen the film then you'll know it's not that straightforward to understand (understatement much?!), due to the numerous red-herrings and dead ends. While McHoul and Wills (not Prince Wills') accuse Z00 of being pretentious and vacuous (cited in Petrolle, 2008:163), Petrolle argues that the film's refusal to completely satisfy our thirst for knowledge does not make it devoid of positive content. Instead, the disturbance of wanting to know something, yet not quite being able to figure it out, mirrors life's biggest mysteries - the origins and meaning of life - and this is epitomised nicely by the lovely David Attenborough's Life on Earth films, which Oliver is seen avidly watching. This, according to Petrolle, highlights the limitations of the human mind, and our uncertainties about such questions as the meaning of life are reflected in the art of textual interpretation that is required when viewing this film.
Finally, because poor Oswald and Oscar are unable to create an understandable narrative, they end up committing a double suicide (shoulda gone to Bad Wolf Bay). But even this attempt to make death meaningful fails, as the camera set up to record the event malfunctions, once more paralleling the viewer's interpretation of the film; we are unable to construct any logical meaning.
A Zed and Two Noughts makes us aware of our longing to completely understand the world around us which, if this were possible, would mean that there would be no room for ambiguity. As Petrolle says:
'Z00 suggests that it is possible, necessary, and sometimes even fun to live with ambivalence.' (2008:174)
That's it folks. Hope that was an enlightening experience. I'm still nowhere near a fan of the avant-garde, and I think Z00 is one of the most bizarre films I've ever seen, but at least I can now see that it was trying to make a point, rather than just being random for the sake of it.
BW xxx
References:
A Zed and Two Noughts (Greenaway, 1985)
Dictionary.com (2010) 'avant-garde', Dictionary.com LLC [online]. Available from: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/avant-garde (Accessed November 20, 2010).
Hobbs, S. D. (1997) 'The Avant-Garde and The Culture of The Future', in: The End of The American Avant Garde: American Social Experience Series, New York University Press: New York.
O'Pray, M. (2008) 'Introduction', in: The British Avant-Garde Film 1926 to 1995, Luton University Press: Luton.
Tate Online Glossary (2010) 'Avant-Garde', (c) Tate London [online]. Available from: http://www.tate.org.uk/collections/glossary/definition.jsp?entryId=38 (Accessed November 20, 2010).
Petrolle, J. (2008) 'Z is for Zebra, Zoo, Zed, and Zygote, or Is It Possible to Live With Ambivalence?', in: Alemany-Galway, M. & Willoquet-Maricondi, P. (eds.) Peter Greenaway's Postmodern/Poststucturalist Cinema, The Scarecrow Press: Lanham/Toronto/Plymouth, p.159-176.
Obviously, if you'v seen the film then you'll know it's not that straightforward to understand (understatement much?!), due to the numerous red-herrings and dead ends. While McHoul and Wills (not Prince Wills') accuse Z00 of being pretentious and vacuous (cited in Petrolle, 2008:163), Petrolle argues that the film's refusal to completely satisfy our thirst for knowledge does not make it devoid of positive content. Instead, the disturbance of wanting to know something, yet not quite being able to figure it out, mirrors life's biggest mysteries - the origins and meaning of life - and this is epitomised nicely by the lovely David Attenborough's Life on Earth films, which Oliver is seen avidly watching. This, according to Petrolle, highlights the limitations of the human mind, and our uncertainties about such questions as the meaning of life are reflected in the art of textual interpretation that is required when viewing this film.
Finally, because poor Oswald and Oscar are unable to create an understandable narrative, they end up committing a double suicide (shoulda gone to Bad Wolf Bay). But even this attempt to make death meaningful fails, as the camera set up to record the event malfunctions, once more paralleling the viewer's interpretation of the film; we are unable to construct any logical meaning.
A Zed and Two Noughts makes us aware of our longing to completely understand the world around us which, if this were possible, would mean that there would be no room for ambiguity. As Petrolle says:
'Z00 suggests that it is possible, necessary, and sometimes even fun to live with ambivalence.' (2008:174)
That's it folks. Hope that was an enlightening experience. I'm still nowhere near a fan of the avant-garde, and I think Z00 is one of the most bizarre films I've ever seen, but at least I can now see that it was trying to make a point, rather than just being random for the sake of it.
BW xxx
References:
A Zed and Two Noughts (Greenaway, 1985)
Dictionary.com (2010) 'avant-garde', Dictionary.com LLC [online]. Available from: http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/avant-garde (Accessed November 20, 2010).
Hobbs, S. D. (1997) 'The Avant-Garde and The Culture of The Future', in: The End of The American Avant Garde: American Social Experience Series, New York University Press: New York.
O'Pray, M. (2008) 'Introduction', in: The British Avant-Garde Film 1926 to 1995, Luton University Press: Luton.
Tate Online Glossary (2010) 'Avant-Garde', (c) Tate London [online]. Available from: http://www.tate.org.uk/collections/glossary/definition.jsp?entryId=38 (Accessed November 20, 2010).
Petrolle, J. (2008) 'Z is for Zebra, Zoo, Zed, and Zygote, or Is It Possible to Live With Ambivalence?', in: Alemany-Galway, M. & Willoquet-Maricondi, P. (eds.) Peter Greenaway's Postmodern/Poststucturalist Cinema, The Scarecrow Press: Lanham/Toronto/Plymouth, p.159-176.
19/11/2010
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.
BW xxx
PS, song of the day: Santa Baby by Kylie Minogue.
14/11/2010
Wanted
With Christmas fast approaching (arrrrggghhh, I know) I, along with the vast majority of the population, have been thinking about what the hell to get the nearest and dearest. For the past couple years, I've taken to writing an itemised list of things that I'd like, and 9 times outta 10, it's paid off. Maybe I'm a spoilt brat, but I never ask for the Earth, just the odd DVD (which my mother loathes buying for me), book, PS2 game etc, and it saves the annual Oscar-winning performance of: 'Wow, that's awesome. Thanks a lot'.
This post, however, is not a 'please may I have...?' list, or even a wish list; it's a Want (with a capital W), Veruca Salt, don't-care-how-I-want-it-now, kinda list. I was always told by my wise elders that 'I want never gets', and in the case of the following items, they're probably right.
#1 - David Tennant - c'mon, did you expect anything less? Difficult to post I imagine, but fun to unwrap, I imagine... frequently...
#2 - A Boyfriend - preferably David Tennant, but failing that, ANYONE will do. Well, maybe not anyone; they've gotta be able to accept me, for me, and see past my disability and many (many) oddities. Does such a man exist?? No offence lads, but I've not found one yet. It's not just about the sex, though I've heard it can be pretty good, I wouldn't know. It's more about the feeling of being wanted, being needed and, ultimately, being loved. I mean, I know I am loved, I get that impression quite often; from my friends, but it's never in that way... Least I don't think it is... I keep having visions of ending up like SuBo - only without the amazing voice - I'm already half as bonkers.
#3 - A Baby - said all this before, and ideally I need Item 2 first, though these days... Anyway, yes, super broody. Nearly all my closest friends have now reproduced and, while I'm beyond happy for them, and think all their children are gorgeous, it does remind me of what I don't, and might never, have. I don't even know if I could, physically like, but it'd be nice to find out.
#4 - A Job - I'm 24, and I've never had a full-time job. Fact. I have worked before; I've been a local correspondant on a Disability magazine, but we only met quarterly; I've been a volunteer classroom assisstant and support worker at my secondary school, which I loved, but it was only voluntary; and I've written small articles for a couple of local newspapers, but they were always about me, I wasn't actually working for anyone. I love working with people, and I think I wanna teach (Film or Media Studies pref), but then I like the idea of working within the (rather vague) world of student support. So really, I have no concrete idea of what I want to do. There's also the small fact that, whatever I do, I'm gonna need support, and I don't know how the hell that would work, or even if it's remotely possible. Had hours of endless fun thinking about that one,
#5 - Gas and Air to be available on prescription - have had it on two separate occasions now; once after breaking my arm, then as a result of The Event. It is some seriously good shit but, and please take note ladies, it does not take the pain away; just makes you feel so stoned that you don't care how much it hurts, or how much you scream. Now, who doesn't want their own personal supply of Entonox in their home?
#6 - A Hug - physically an impossibility for me, as I'm likely to shatter into a thousand pieces, which I know from experience, hurts. But still, it would be nice sometimes, and of the many things I can't do, it's the one thing I wish I could. Well, there are some other things...
BW xxx
PS, found out Dark Handsome Stranger's full name, so am now free to stalk him on Facebook, hurrah! Though, this does mean that I've discovered he has a girlfriend, boo hoo. Oh, and he's younger than me. Brilliant. Now I just feel like a perv, an old perv at that.
This post, however, is not a 'please may I have...?' list, or even a wish list; it's a Want (with a capital W), Veruca Salt, don't-care-how-I-want-it-now, kinda list. I was always told by my wise elders that 'I want never gets', and in the case of the following items, they're probably right.
#1 - David Tennant - c'mon, did you expect anything less? Difficult to post I imagine, but fun to unwrap, I imagine... frequently...
#2 - A Boyfriend - preferably David Tennant, but failing that, ANYONE will do. Well, maybe not anyone; they've gotta be able to accept me, for me, and see past my disability and many (many) oddities. Does such a man exist?? No offence lads, but I've not found one yet. It's not just about the sex, though I've heard it can be pretty good, I wouldn't know. It's more about the feeling of being wanted, being needed and, ultimately, being loved. I mean, I know I am loved, I get that impression quite often; from my friends, but it's never in that way... Least I don't think it is... I keep having visions of ending up like SuBo - only without the amazing voice - I'm already half as bonkers.
#3 - A Baby - said all this before, and ideally I need Item 2 first, though these days... Anyway, yes, super broody. Nearly all my closest friends have now reproduced and, while I'm beyond happy for them, and think all their children are gorgeous, it does remind me of what I don't, and might never, have. I don't even know if I could, physically like, but it'd be nice to find out.
#4 - A Job - I'm 24, and I've never had a full-time job. Fact. I have worked before; I've been a local correspondant on a Disability magazine, but we only met quarterly; I've been a volunteer classroom assisstant and support worker at my secondary school, which I loved, but it was only voluntary; and I've written small articles for a couple of local newspapers, but they were always about me, I wasn't actually working for anyone. I love working with people, and I think I wanna teach (Film or Media Studies pref), but then I like the idea of working within the (rather vague) world of student support. So really, I have no concrete idea of what I want to do. There's also the small fact that, whatever I do, I'm gonna need support, and I don't know how the hell that would work, or even if it's remotely possible. Had hours of endless fun thinking about that one,
#5 - Gas and Air to be available on prescription - have had it on two separate occasions now; once after breaking my arm, then as a result of The Event. It is some seriously good shit but, and please take note ladies, it does not take the pain away; just makes you feel so stoned that you don't care how much it hurts, or how much you scream. Now, who doesn't want their own personal supply of Entonox in their home?
#6 - A Hug - physically an impossibility for me, as I'm likely to shatter into a thousand pieces, which I know from experience, hurts. But still, it would be nice sometimes, and of the many things I can't do, it's the one thing I wish I could. Well, there are some other things...
BW xxx
PS, found out Dark Handsome Stranger's full name, so am now free to stalk him on Facebook, hurrah! Though, this does mean that I've discovered he has a girlfriend, boo hoo. Oh, and he's younger than me. Brilliant. Now I just feel like a perv, an old perv at that.
11/11/2010
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:
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:
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| #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. |
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| #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. |
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| #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. |
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| #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.
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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.
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.
09/11/2010
The Event
Noooo, not Channel 4's new 'thriller', which I've successfully avoided so far, due to a) forgetting to watch the first ep, b) not having time to catch-up with the first ep and c), being so disappointed with Flash Forward's 'finale' that I just didn't wanna put myself through such trauma again. So, by The Event, I mean something far more personal; something that I've already alluded to a couple times in this blog; and something that, hopefully, will give you an even greater insight into the scary realms of ME.
On 11 October 2004, at approximately 10:10am, I was thrown out of my wheelchair onto the floor of a taxi, breaking both arms and legs.
Up until this point, I was a pretty average student, I stayed in education until I was 18, got my A-levels, and intended to go to university. I had applied to two, to study either Journalism or Film; with the latter being my preferred choice. However, I guess I didn't work as hard as I should have done at college, and didn't take it seriously enough - does anyone at that age? - so ended up not achieving good enough grades to get onto the Film degree. Therefore, I had to settle for my second choice of Journalism, which was further away from my home, and it was arranged that I would travel by County Council-provided taxi, in order to give me some more independence (ha ha). Normally, I would travel in my mother's car, sitting in a child's car seat, and then be transferred by her into my wheelchair at the other end , but because I was doing this journey on my own, transferring would not have been possible, so I had to actually make the journey in my wheelchair.
Survived the first trip to and from Uni on October 4th relatively unscathed though, looking back, I didn't feel 100% safe even then, but thought this was just me being a 'fraidy cat' (dog?), and was determined to carry on; hoping I'd just get used to it. This bravado was dramatically short-lived, and one week later, about 20 minutes away from my first lecture The Event, which still affects my life even now, occurred.
I still don't know what happened exactly, all I know for sure is that the driver braked suddenly, and I was thrown forward, landing on the taxi floor. The first thing I remember (vividly) is hearing someone screaming, and then realising it was me. I never believed that phenomenon, often clichéd in books and films, was possible; not being aware of a sound that your own body is making. But trust me, it's possible. It's kinda like your mind is frozen in time for a split-second, while the rest of you, and the rest of the world, goes on.
I don't think I ever lost consciousness, though I really wish I had as, when I 'came to', I was aware of the worst pain imaginable. They say that, for a woman, childbirth is the worst pain you can feel, but I'd beg to differ. Have never been in labour, but would've quite happily given vaginal birth to octuplets (if that was humanly possible), than be in the agony I was in then. Even thinking about it now, 6 years later, I stil feel realy sick and tense - like when you're in the same room as a bunch of balloons and you KNOW one of them's gonna burst - only 10 billion times worse, so I do try not to think about it too much; it's hard though. I also try not to get too close to balloons...
I wouldn't wish the above experience on my worst enemy, not even Jude Law, though sometimes I could just slap him... Anyway, I digress. Was taken to hospital by air ambulance - now get really freaked out by low-flying helicopters; seriously, I'm a frigging nutter - and promptly (well, several hours later) got sent home. There wasn't a lot that could be done for me, as putting me into plaster would only do more damage, due to the weight. So to bed I went, which is where I remained for pretty much the rest of the year. During my recovery I continued studying, using voice recognition software to dictate my coursework, and somehow managed to get a 2:1 for my first year. But, while I was pretty much fully recovered (physically at least) by January 2005, my confidence was completely trashed, and I gave up the course.
For a good few months I was at a complete loss as to what to do with my life; had no future plans; no aspirations and, most significantly, no confidence. But then I met a man called The Doctor...
As I've said before, Doctor Who gave me something to look forward too, and acted as a form of escapism; anything, quite frankly, would have been an improvement on my current situation, but a life in the TARDIS, travelling endlessly through time and space with a handsome stranger? Errr, yes please. That's why I can so emphasise with Rose Tyler, and Billie Piper (albeit a younger model); me and Rose were the same age, both stuck in a rut, bored with life, no real future etc etc. We trusted the Doctor, and fell in love with him, in our own way, and I can't help feeling that having Doctor Who to look forward to every week kept me going. Billie, on the other hand, inspired me in a totally different to Rose, as she's also come pretty darn close to pegging it; in her case as a result of a serious eating disorder - which I'm very unlikely to suffer from; too darn greedy, too many little pigs and children in red coats etc.
Seriously though, I'd grown up listening to Billie-Because-We-Want-To-Piper's music (still do fyi, shut up you), and having a shared experience (sort of) with somebody, particularly someone so close in age, really helped me. Ok maybe I sound like BP's official stalker, but the fact that she so brilliantly put her life back together inspired me to do the same, and I did.
In October 2005, one year after the Universe collapsed around me, I got a place at my local college, where I stayed for two years, gradually re-building my confidence (and my academic skills), before finally starting the Film degree that I'd failed to get onto all those years ago. I graduated with a 2:1 this July just gone - perhaps one of the best days of my life - and the rest, as they say, is history. Kinda...
October 11, 2004 was definately the worst day of my life, but it became the best thing that ever happend to me. Yes, I'm a more nervous passenger than I was before - though, I have improved; no more panic attacks - bonus. Yes, I am a bit freaked out by helicopters, and no, sometimes I'm not as confident in myself as I could be. But, as a result of th accident I've made some amazing friends, have a degree in Film at one of the top Unis, and am pursuing a Masters. I can also now, quite happily, travel in a car in my wheelchair (not The Chair, that got sent to the knacker's yard). Ok so the car is generally driven by my mother, but I have also pulled myself together enough now to allow my enabler, and very good friend VW, to take me out and about. Though, frankly, if I'd made her sit at home with me any longer, I think she woulda dragged me out by my tail anyway. That's why I love her!
Everything happens for a reason. Any regets? Sing it Piaf.
BW xxx
On 11 October 2004, at approximately 10:10am, I was thrown out of my wheelchair onto the floor of a taxi, breaking both arms and legs.
Up until this point, I was a pretty average student, I stayed in education until I was 18, got my A-levels, and intended to go to university. I had applied to two, to study either Journalism or Film; with the latter being my preferred choice. However, I guess I didn't work as hard as I should have done at college, and didn't take it seriously enough - does anyone at that age? - so ended up not achieving good enough grades to get onto the Film degree. Therefore, I had to settle for my second choice of Journalism, which was further away from my home, and it was arranged that I would travel by County Council-provided taxi, in order to give me some more independence (ha ha). Normally, I would travel in my mother's car, sitting in a child's car seat, and then be transferred by her into my wheelchair at the other end , but because I was doing this journey on my own, transferring would not have been possible, so I had to actually make the journey in my wheelchair.
Survived the first trip to and from Uni on October 4th relatively unscathed though, looking back, I didn't feel 100% safe even then, but thought this was just me being a 'fraidy cat' (dog?), and was determined to carry on; hoping I'd just get used to it. This bravado was dramatically short-lived, and one week later, about 20 minutes away from my first lecture The Event, which still affects my life even now, occurred.
I still don't know what happened exactly, all I know for sure is that the driver braked suddenly, and I was thrown forward, landing on the taxi floor. The first thing I remember (vividly) is hearing someone screaming, and then realising it was me. I never believed that phenomenon, often clichéd in books and films, was possible; not being aware of a sound that your own body is making. But trust me, it's possible. It's kinda like your mind is frozen in time for a split-second, while the rest of you, and the rest of the world, goes on.
I don't think I ever lost consciousness, though I really wish I had as, when I 'came to', I was aware of the worst pain imaginable. They say that, for a woman, childbirth is the worst pain you can feel, but I'd beg to differ. Have never been in labour, but would've quite happily given vaginal birth to octuplets (if that was humanly possible), than be in the agony I was in then. Even thinking about it now, 6 years later, I stil feel realy sick and tense - like when you're in the same room as a bunch of balloons and you KNOW one of them's gonna burst - only 10 billion times worse, so I do try not to think about it too much; it's hard though. I also try not to get too close to balloons...
I wouldn't wish the above experience on my worst enemy, not even Jude Law, though sometimes I could just slap him... Anyway, I digress. Was taken to hospital by air ambulance - now get really freaked out by low-flying helicopters; seriously, I'm a frigging nutter - and promptly (well, several hours later) got sent home. There wasn't a lot that could be done for me, as putting me into plaster would only do more damage, due to the weight. So to bed I went, which is where I remained for pretty much the rest of the year. During my recovery I continued studying, using voice recognition software to dictate my coursework, and somehow managed to get a 2:1 for my first year. But, while I was pretty much fully recovered (physically at least) by January 2005, my confidence was completely trashed, and I gave up the course.
For a good few months I was at a complete loss as to what to do with my life; had no future plans; no aspirations and, most significantly, no confidence. But then I met a man called The Doctor...
As I've said before, Doctor Who gave me something to look forward too, and acted as a form of escapism; anything, quite frankly, would have been an improvement on my current situation, but a life in the TARDIS, travelling endlessly through time and space with a handsome stranger? Errr, yes please. That's why I can so emphasise with Rose Tyler, and Billie Piper (albeit a younger model); me and Rose were the same age, both stuck in a rut, bored with life, no real future etc etc. We trusted the Doctor, and fell in love with him, in our own way, and I can't help feeling that having Doctor Who to look forward to every week kept me going. Billie, on the other hand, inspired me in a totally different to Rose, as she's also come pretty darn close to pegging it; in her case as a result of a serious eating disorder - which I'm very unlikely to suffer from; too darn greedy, too many little pigs and children in red coats etc.
Seriously though, I'd grown up listening to Billie-Because-We-Want-To-Piper's music (still do fyi, shut up you), and having a shared experience (sort of) with somebody, particularly someone so close in age, really helped me. Ok maybe I sound like BP's official stalker, but the fact that she so brilliantly put her life back together inspired me to do the same, and I did.
In October 2005, one year after the Universe collapsed around me, I got a place at my local college, where I stayed for two years, gradually re-building my confidence (and my academic skills), before finally starting the Film degree that I'd failed to get onto all those years ago. I graduated with a 2:1 this July just gone - perhaps one of the best days of my life - and the rest, as they say, is history. Kinda...
October 11, 2004 was definately the worst day of my life, but it became the best thing that ever happend to me. Yes, I'm a more nervous passenger than I was before - though, I have improved; no more panic attacks - bonus. Yes, I am a bit freaked out by helicopters, and no, sometimes I'm not as confident in myself as I could be. But, as a result of th accident I've made some amazing friends, have a degree in Film at one of the top Unis, and am pursuing a Masters. I can also now, quite happily, travel in a car in my wheelchair (not The Chair, that got sent to the knacker's yard). Ok so the car is generally driven by my mother, but I have also pulled myself together enough now to allow my enabler, and very good friend VW, to take me out and about. Though, frankly, if I'd made her sit at home with me any longer, I think she woulda dragged me out by my tail anyway. That's why I love her!
Everything happens for a reason. Any regets? Sing it Piaf.
BW xxx
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