Laurence Dominic saves Samwise Gamgee?
No, seriously.
That's what I love about old films that star actors before they make their big break in other movies or teevee shows.
Heck, you can go one step further and say its Private Joker (Matt Modine) flying the bloody plane!
The film's Memphis Belle by the way. Not bad, worth an afternoon of your life and I remember was a talking point in school for months afterwards, primarily because we were studying Yeats in English Lit.
I have finished my ENT training and embark on a 2 week stint in Cardio/Thoracic on Tuesday. Apparently the senior sister of ENT liked me. This is good, it means I'm not a complete moron when it comes to scrubbing for ENT procedures.
But I'm having problems too.
And I don't think they're going to go away anytime soon.
This is normal, right?
Facebook has a lot of old photos up of me, heck of a lot of people. And you remember the photos, the ones that you take, but not necessarily the ones you appear in. And for people like me that means the past can be disjointing.
There are exceptions, my mom found the old pictures of me when I was little, like 5-7 years old and she said my androgyny in those pictures is so obvious that in hindsight she's not surprised things turned out the way they did.
Cool!
But also cos there are pictures I don't remember being in. Stuff in Aber in my last 2 years mainly. It's like... huh?
I compare it to the experiences this Polish man had in the war, he had his childhood and teens in Poland and that was fine, but the 6 years of occupation and what happened in that time kinda erased everything than came before it and severely muted anything that came after it, with some possible exceptions.
I'm not saying my experiences were war-like... but in a sense they were. Those 7 years (2002-09) 3 years of training and knockbacks and 3 years of work, half of which was spent changing in a toilet, did embed itself in my brain to the extent that it's hard to forget such things.
The comments, the criticism, the rejection, the LOOKS, the paranoia, the stuff you have to take, and take... and take.. and take.
You don't pay in money here but you pay in other ways.
And it doesn't go away. It's not supposed to. Is it?
If you turn raw steel into a sword by tempering it, does the sword remember what it was before and wish the constant pounding, burning and freezing never happened?
Don't misunderstand it, it likes being a sword (loves it even) but all that trauma left a mark. And that mark will never go away.
This is why I'm big on the post-apocalyptic look. Dunno what is has to do with anything but the whole survivor thing feels right to me. I can relate to it.
We're not 'heroes' as some weird SKY3 programme put it. We're survivors. Surviving.
Poncy I know but it's all I can hold on right now to keep me upright.
I could use an alcoholics anonymous analogy but I'm allergic to beer. Not spirits though, thank heavens!
I'm writing some weird cross between Alias and something else right now. Poured a lot of "that time" into it. Don't know what is going to come out but could be fun.
I'm also cathartically doing a piece between two men stuck in Belsen following the liberation. Just two friends chewing the fat while the bulldozer clears away the dead. I was thinking of setting it in Birkenau but the Russians liberated that in January so, unfortunately, too much snow.
Pretty much it for now, and if anyone from work has made it down this far thankyou for taking the time to read my journal.
That's what I love about old films that star actors before they make their big break in other movies or teevee shows.
Heck, you can go one step further and say its Private Joker (Matt Modine) flying the bloody plane!
The film's Memphis Belle by the way. Not bad, worth an afternoon of your life and I remember was a talking point in school for months afterwards, primarily because we were studying Yeats in English Lit.
I have finished my ENT training and embark on a 2 week stint in Cardio/Thoracic on Tuesday. Apparently the senior sister of ENT liked me. This is good, it means I'm not a complete moron when it comes to scrubbing for ENT procedures.
But I'm having problems too.
And I don't think they're going to go away anytime soon.
This is normal, right?
Facebook has a lot of old photos up of me, heck of a lot of people. And you remember the photos, the ones that you take, but not necessarily the ones you appear in. And for people like me that means the past can be disjointing.
There are exceptions, my mom found the old pictures of me when I was little, like 5-7 years old and she said my androgyny in those pictures is so obvious that in hindsight she's not surprised things turned out the way they did.
Cool!
But also cos there are pictures I don't remember being in. Stuff in Aber in my last 2 years mainly. It's like... huh?
I compare it to the experiences this Polish man had in the war, he had his childhood and teens in Poland and that was fine, but the 6 years of occupation and what happened in that time kinda erased everything than came before it and severely muted anything that came after it, with some possible exceptions.
I'm not saying my experiences were war-like... but in a sense they were. Those 7 years (2002-09) 3 years of training and knockbacks and 3 years of work, half of which was spent changing in a toilet, did embed itself in my brain to the extent that it's hard to forget such things.
The comments, the criticism, the rejection, the LOOKS, the paranoia, the stuff you have to take, and take... and take.. and take.
You don't pay in money here but you pay in other ways.
And it doesn't go away. It's not supposed to. Is it?
If you turn raw steel into a sword by tempering it, does the sword remember what it was before and wish the constant pounding, burning and freezing never happened?
Don't misunderstand it, it likes being a sword (loves it even) but all that trauma left a mark. And that mark will never go away.
This is why I'm big on the post-apocalyptic look. Dunno what is has to do with anything but the whole survivor thing feels right to me. I can relate to it.
We're not 'heroes' as some weird SKY3 programme put it. We're survivors. Surviving.
Poncy I know but it's all I can hold on right now to keep me upright.
I could use an alcoholics anonymous analogy but I'm allergic to beer. Not spirits though, thank heavens!
I'm writing some weird cross between Alias and something else right now. Poured a lot of "that time" into it. Don't know what is going to come out but could be fun.
I'm also cathartically doing a piece between two men stuck in Belsen following the liberation. Just two friends chewing the fat while the bulldozer clears away the dead. I was thinking of setting it in Birkenau but the Russians liberated that in January so, unfortunately, too much snow.
Pretty much it for now, and if anyone from work has made it down this far thankyou for taking the time to read my journal.