The following probably won't make a lot of sense as I write it tossed upon a heavy sea. Well, I'm actually just sitting at my desk but I feel like I'm trapped in a heavy swell which is what happens when one is forced from one's sick bed to the workhouse (insert images of Victorian misery here).
I'm also probably going to stick my arse up and wave it about a bit but that's only because I'm Scottish and all those hormones/emotions I've been repressing are starting to squelch out like vegemite through a vitabrit. If you don't know what vegemite or vitabrits are, think some sandwich spread extruding or squeezing out through two riddled or perforated crackers or biscuits when pressed together.
In other words as my poor brain washes back and forth some of my snakes are slithering loose. This'll be fun. I think I'm about to be hideously seasick at my desk.
Friday: Taking AP out to dinner went rather well, surpise surprise but I was paying anyway. She picked the restaurant I'd hoped she'd pick - no prodding from moi, I swear. We had enormous but delicious steak for me, chicken for her, wine, coffee and dessert. Wobbled home rather unsteadily to find only the Rockford Files on. Yay, classic 70s tv. It's like watching a peroid piece or some anthropological study of Los Angeles in the mid70s. scarier than any cannibal tribe, and I can reasonably speak from experience on that matter.
After that it was The Tick, this time exploring the issue of co-dependent superheroes and their sidekicks. More QAF than QAF, as always - grin. Much hilarity.
Then, finally, another yummy episode of Spooks. This was the infamous death by fish and chip shop episode (S1 #2) and demonstrated rather brutally in their quaint no messing about British way which I love so much the personal, emotional and physical sacrifices made while undercover. Every scene was a delight. The acting, the story, everything was just perfect. I won't say any more in case you've not seen it - you must - but the use of the SAS provided a satisfying if sombre result. The scene almost reminded me of the Professionals, so that was a slight tingle, certainly. This is of course much more sophisticated and much more culturally sensitive but different strokes for different eras and it's unkind and unfair to examine the two series two closely. It was just Peter Firth, in the George Cowley role, getting very nobody messes with my team and gets away with it - oh, so very Profs. Wheee! Matthew was, as always, a joy to watch.
Saturday: Just been reading Bill Bryson's article on Natural Born Killers and it reminded me of one of the sights that has most horrified me in my life: the sight of rows and rows and rows of guns and ammo in a camping store in Seattle. Now I'd never seen rows of guns in my life before, and the idea of going camping not to view wildlife but to blow it to buggery, well, that was as alien to me as it was horrible. At home our wildlife is protected and guns regulated so apart from being on a rabbit shoot once, it's just so foreign (I should add we don't have the death penalty here either - not in my lifetime - so killing isn't an institutionalised thing).
Now they always blame telly for all the violence in the world yet I'm aware of thousands of years of well documented violence for which tv can't possibly to blame, and I note a lower per capita incidence of homicide in Europe, Canada, etc as compared to the US, so I'm not convinced by that argument.
I do worry though, as Michael Moore so aptly demonstrates, that if you can buy guns as toys, and go camping to kill, that a person might become trained to it, used to it, that it becomes a learned behaviour rather than a foreign concept as it is to me.
My thoughts anyway, however the article describes the exterminating of rare species for fun and profit by the hunting classes (the same inbred idiots that intriduced foxes and rabbits to Australia). Well, we're a quaint species, that's for sure. What's that famous quote, about only ants, termites and humans waging war upon themselves?
Too much serious stuff but at least I'm in control of my faculties for once as I restrict my use of painkillers most sternly. It's been a hard, tough month of sacrifice, cruel decisions and yet more sacrifice. It's been a month for hard truths, realising that a lot of people loathe for reasons I can't really do much about without chopping myself into pieces (something I'm no longer willing to do), but at least a precious few people do like me just the way I am and they're real treasures in my life and treasures as human beings - full of charity, compassion, kindness and humour. All the things you're supposed to have, all the things the people I find mean demonstrate a serious lack thereof.
I've been dieting hard and working harder. I've been getting up and going to work when I've been ill just because I have to. It makes me tough. I'm enduring my usual 48 hours of misery without wailing, tears or being sick, simply because I won't allow it. I'm so proud to have endured thus far without cracking. I'm becoming a proper little Protestant. All suffering, enduring and sacrifice.
I've only lost my temper three times this month, and each time was entirely valid as I was very much wronged though I might as well have been crying at a brick wall for all the other party cared. One must pick one's battles and just having the better plan or idea or the legal right of way isn't enough - it's useless to get upset if nobody will listen, and it's useless to get upset even though you know you're going to take the blame for everything down the track. Lately, though, I don't seem to be winning any of my battles except by attrition, ie they finally come around to my way of thinking but claim it as their own, anyway.
I'm having to cut things and folks from my life (and I've been culled from a lot of other folk's lives, too, I note). It's hard, but the more I break free the more I realise it's not before time to move on a bit. We'll see just how far these ropes can stretch before they snap me back again.
Today though it almost feels like I'm overseas, curled up reading what I want, thinking what I want, without a framework of expectations, duties or rules. I love being free from my lists. It's a perfect holiday.
Meant to be spending today watching/catching up on dvds, vcds and videos and books but decided dozing and slowly reading the papers was more my speed, until I looked up and noticed a little film called Casablanca had threaded itself through the reels on cable. Love the line about everyone in America being asleep in 1941. Very apt. Very still controversial.
Been reading articles on relationships, because my research all has to come from books and articles these days, alas (though I've discovered I've no problem in talking to people I want to, it's just that it's rarely mutual qv Xander Season One - Two). Anyway, food for thought as always.
Some people have asked why Buck hangs around Ezra as it seems very much an unconventional relationship if romance novels are your convention (bleuch!) and as both boys are trouble, in their own way. I think a large part of Buck likes trouble and hates boredom (well, he's a longtime friend of Chris, afterall), and he's never going to be bored with Ezra. Ezra's an enigma, a mix of lies, truths and half truths who intrigues him, fascinates him and this is like honey for Buck. If Ezra keeps leading him a dance, Buck is a willing dance partner. Ezra I think gets the unconditional affection he craves, and while not absolutely approving, Buck has never judged Ezra (at least not overtly, to my recollection) and Buck's devotion flatters Ezra's ego, I think, to some extent. They might not be evenly matched but they both bring something different to the relationship and they both get something out of it. Ezra would certainy never stick around if he felt like he had a losing hand.
After Casablanca it was onto an excellent episode of Homicide featuring killer dogs and dumb and dumber criminals. Then flicking channels I couldn't work out why Ioan was on the Disney Channel until the brain gears crunched and I realised I was inflicting 102 Dalmations on myself. Woof! What a complete dog of a film. Shame, Ioan, shame.
Moving on I find Bro has taken over the dvd for a Doctor Who fest. Seeds of Death followed by Terror of the Autons. You know, she says with tongue firmly planted in cheek, I just don't get the British obssession with invasion fleets, as evidenced by Dr Who, the same way I just don't get the Japanese obssessions with atomic bombs. Amusing and disturbing how WWII traumas so heavily influenced the popular culture, kiddie shows in particular, when I was growing up. Then there were all those WWI and WWII themed books I read as a child. Way to give myself PTSD by proxy.
And I'm thinking, with all the botox around these days, who'd recognise an Auton in the streets anyway. It's Joan Collins! Flee for your lives! Down snaps her wrists and out come the death rays.
Ahem. Bro has actually sat through the commentaries and is pointing out where Dr Who has been dicked with on the dvd. No I really don't hold with restoration that alters the work to such a degree that one could class it as an entirely new work or just plain vandalised. I want the episodes I saw as a kid, dammit. Doctor Who, Star Wars, great works of art, ancient monuments, it's all vandalism. Arrrgh.
Sunday morning: woke up to find I'd nearly bled to death during the night. Huh. Note to self: no asprins, 'kay? Damn, and my last thought would have been a middling dream lamenting missing Man from UNCLE on telly. So much for last thoughts.vSunday night: endured Jane Austen doco and Daniel Deronda. Enjoyed Spartan doco then over to Fox8 for 24 repeats. Kim is still off being abducted. I really hate her. I really hate the way she's always directly responsible for death and mayhem but it's never her fault because she's blonde and pretty wheras I'm always being made responsible for stuff I had nothing to do with. Pretty blondes are always offered seats and assistance wheras brunettes can go to the devil. It's been proven in studies. Thou shalt not suffer a fat bitch to live.
Monday: Under appreciated website: thousands of dollars. Dear friends making back ups: $50.00.Lounging about in the sun reading the papers knowing I don't have anything better to do on the Pooter? Priceless.
Spoilt the birdies then came in to snuggle up before Irwin Alln's Lost World (1960). Classic afternoon guff. I'm in heaven, and I resolve not to read any slash into it and it wasn't my fault the other day with Casablanca as Louis was so obviously sweet on Rick - he said as much. It's canon, I swear, never mind the walking off together in a fog scene.
Yes I'm perverse and I should be punished.
Read an interview with Andrew Davies re Tipping the Velvet. He describes, in passing, the Emperor Nero as 'young, dumb and full of come'. Yes, that's the man I want to party with, someone who isn't so damn po faced about research and tv shows.
Lookit, giant lizards, strangling vines. Don't know why I'm watching as I'm never going to finish that SG fic now, thanks to those vile women who are no doubt puckered at both ends. But hey, I love a good dino movie, regardless. Go dinos!
Ah, the dino fight showpiece. My fave bit. No animals were hurt in the making of this motion picture my arse but I'm not about to go all PETA on you, not when I spent this morning watching one of my currawongs catch and eat little mousey mousey. Life bites and then you die.
Oh, this movie is so easy to MST3K (Rock climbing!!!) and I tried so hard but Gomez has a locket with his beloved Santiago in it, fer fek's sake, not that he wasn't looking totally gay to start with. I was prepared to write off his fashion choices to the period but the locket - heh (Okay, so they said it was his brother but they saved that little snippet til last and it smacks of studio re-write - grin). Why are dino movies always so gay? And yes Dr Grant, I am looking at you, my dear.
Roswell, Buffy (Inca Mummy Girl) and a couple of Angels (S4 #16-19 - thankyou!). Hello to the Terminator references as Joss turns Fred into Sarah Connor for an episode, which strangely redeems her, for once. It's so obviously Terminator, though it's been a while since there's been a direct riff from Terminator in a Joss show. Joss used to always reference the Terminator. In fact, he's paid it hommage so often I worry that Joss has seen Michael Biehn's naked butt more times than I have, which is truly disturbing. Must be a fave film of the Joss though, for bits to show up in Buffy and Angel so often as it does (the Buffy pilot and Faith, Hope and Trick for two examples, though the BP had a lot of Aliens, too).
Wes was wicked cool with some trick shhoting, I must say. Go Wes!
Then Roswell (the daft episode of high farce, deep soap and Nelly Futardo) and 24, and I must say I admire Jack's up and go after being dead for half the episode. This show has become a paraody of itself, I swear. It's like the Perils of Pauline, it really is. With a mighty leap he was free...
Kept falling asleep for bits of Buffy but it's okay because it was "Lies My Mother Told Me" and I'd already happily treated myself to it seveal times (thankyou) so no matter, I knew the Oedipal plot by now. Freudian issues much, young Spike?
Quote of the day:
"Champagne for my real friends and real pain for my sham friends" - 25th Hour
Tuesday:Feeling uber oogy today. Won't bore you with the details but very very oogy and woozy. Wanted to stay home in bed but evil AP stood by the door until I shifted myself. Mean and cruel. I guess this falls under whatever doesn't kill me, but I feel so oogy I worry that today the killing bit might win. Melodramatic I know but I really feel oogy. Sitting up is a real chore, never mind actually working. Too oogy to type or read. Maybe if I'm lucky I'll slump into a pathetic little heap. If I'm lucky. Purgatory again, and just when I thought things couldn't get worse.
Fortunately had some sympathic hearings over my feelings that a list of email lists are unnecessarily harsh these days. They seem to tear into people as blood sport rather than engendering constructive discussion or comment. They're just big meanies. As I said I'm usually of the with my shield or on it camp if somebody wants to challenge me but I really can't be bothered arguing things I don't care about with people I don't care for. I'd much rather sit out in the sun and read and think, thank you. So, discretion being the better part of valour, I slunk away, to live and fight another day, if I can at all be bothered.
Oooh, Triplej is hosting an hour long discussion on cannibalism. Bless. Ah, I think I'll just check links while I listen.