I dream stuff
, then last night, continuing my education of my housemate in film, we watched Oliver Stone's Alexander Revisited (like I said, 100000x times better than the shitty cinematic edit). Consequently, I just had an incredibly involved dream that I was the secretly adopted scion of some politically important house and had to lead my loyalists around on a secret minibus. My enemies kept killing me but I couldn't die so I just came back to life, Kenny style. Ways I died included: being run over, being shot with a crossbow, being poisoned, and an attempt to have me eaten by lions. But I escaped that one. Also my real mum was my adopted mum in the dream. A lion ate her.
Highlights of this dream include
- the bit where my real/adopted mum was gonna get eaten by a lion and I shot it with my crossbow but she kind of got eaten anyway. The lions were supposed to be an entertainment but my enemies(???) secretly made it so that gorrilas went on the outside of their cages and let them out
- the bit where I had to explain to some ambiguous religious leader that I never die for good, and I remembered dying 225 times so far but I always just woke up again.
- the bit where some helpful elderly citizens hid me in their bathroom, then my enemies like barged in and searched the house nazi-style, and found me and shot me, so they left, but then I came back to life
- an interlude where my supporters and I all got off the bus for a bit of tourism in some peaceful village. I went in a second hand bookshop and found a copy of a new book in the Ice and Fire series, and there was money inside the book to buy it with! (mostly £2 coins). But the shopkeeper would only sell me like, a BIT of the book. I tried to argue with her that there was a price inside the cover but in the end I just bought a shitty magazine and then we went back on the bus.
I have no idea what I was actually trying to accomplish in this dream. I don't think I had a mission or campaign or anything so coherent. Mostly just going about on a minibus.
AND NOW, SPEAKING OF THE DIRECTOR'S CUT, LET'S ALL WATCH THE SCENE ALEXANDER KISSES BAGOAS ON REPLAY FOR A WHILE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uXi_TubdRZs
YUMMMM.
DAT SET THOUGH.
SORRY FOR SHITTY QUALITY BUT YOU'D BETTER BELIEVE I HAVE REPLAYED THIS ON THE DVD X10000.
(my housemate LOVED the film btw. Like ADORED it. And had a million questions for me about costume, gesture, names, dialogue, sources, etc....and of course there is nothing I like better than explaining my geeky passions to people). We've only seen the first disc so far because the director's cut is in two parts cos it's so long, but she wants to watch it again before she watches the second one with me to try and understand more. UGH I LOVE IT WHEN PEOPLE GET STUFF I LOVE AND THEN THEY'RE LIKE OMG I LOVE THIS.
Also, we did an interchange last night - she is nearly a qualified podiatrist and practiced her patient interview on me and touched my feeeeeet (ARGH) and then I practiced a paper on her. She did a much better job than me. My delivery sucked and I have to edit the paper quite a lot tomorrow. And buy train tickets for the conference.
I learned something interesting though which is that the reason I hate wearing shoes (and don't really like walking tbh, I'd much rather cycle) is that the joints of my feet are hyper-mobile and my big toes are really rigid, so they don't bend on impact and the place under my next toe takes all the work of absorbing impact and pushing off the ground. So the way I walk is quite unnatural and crappy for my feet. But a lot of people have this problem, and it's because we're not evolved to walk on flat surfaces, so our big toes don't get the opportunity to curl around rocks and stuff like they're supposed to. BUT SHE IS GOING TO TOUCH PEOPLE'S FEET FOR A LIVING VOLUNTARILY.I can just about tolerate my *own* feet, which are externally healthy and have like healthy nails and stuff and don't sweat much. BUT SHE IS GOING TO TOUCH PEOPLE'S FEET THAT HAVE ALL... STUFF WRONG WITH THEM. AAARGH. I HATE FEET.
Yesterday I went to town, had lunch out with my girlfriends, and spent the money for conference train tickets on a haircut. OH WELL. I got another paper accepted to a journal and the printer's proofs for the first one to correct, so that's all going well. Finally, I'm doing pretty well with not restricting my food intake regardless of scale fluctuations - which I used to take as a sign to restrict immediately, but am learning to tolerate and realize that actually, averaged over a week, they don't really go anywhere. I'm pretty proud of myself on that front. I feel a lot healthier and more energetic and warmer and like I have more time for my friends/social life and don't have to just leave/go to bed early/whatever because I'm out of energy. Yesterday, I making some humorous observations on an advert, and one of my dearest friends was cracking up and said to me: 'Jude, you're so funny'. And it really warmed me. Being known for being funny is better than being known for being the thin one. Of course, identity is a constant work in progress and no-one can step in the same river twice (which will be my next tattoo, by the way), but I think it's important for a full and lasting remission to let go of 'the thin one' as part of your self-image. Let's face it: we're social creatures, and this society reads a great deal into degrees of thinness/fatness, inferring all sorts of information from those perceptions, and thinness is obviously the positive half of that binary. To say - I would rather be funny than thin, I would rather be clever than thin, I would rather be kind than thin sounds obvious, but really our society pays only lip-service to those concepts. Thinness is immensely privileged. What makes me a little sad though, is that when I get hungry, above all, it feels familiar - because I now realize that that is how I used to feel *all the time*. Low-level hunger was my normal state until, well, the past year or so really. I just didn't recognise it - I thought that was just what being alive felt like.
As to dem kitties, they are good - Bibi had a colitis flare up, so I put her on soft food only for a couple of days and got her a probiotic which sorted her out. Mummy knows how to look after her. I swear she is like a bratty little sister to Zara - last night she was sitting royally on the coffee table, being king of the castle, and Zara made to come up too, so Bibi shoved her off and jumped on her like NO MY FORT. Then when Zara innocently walked past Bibi gave her a smack. Zara does seem to see he as an annoying but endearing little sister because she grooms her a lot, particularly her head, and they do cuddle together, but when Bibi gets to riotous Zara turns around and hisses at her to back off. They're like my own little wildlife show.
Okay, so it's Sunday, I'm gonna visit my mother. Haven't heard back about jobs for next year yet....just keeping on with publications/finishing marking/research.
Highlights of this dream include
- the bit where my real/adopted mum was gonna get eaten by a lion and I shot it with my crossbow but she kind of got eaten anyway. The lions were supposed to be an entertainment but my enemies(???) secretly made it so that gorrilas went on the outside of their cages and let them out
- the bit where I had to explain to some ambiguous religious leader that I never die for good, and I remembered dying 225 times so far but I always just woke up again.
- the bit where some helpful elderly citizens hid me in their bathroom, then my enemies like barged in and searched the house nazi-style, and found me and shot me, so they left, but then I came back to life
- an interlude where my supporters and I all got off the bus for a bit of tourism in some peaceful village. I went in a second hand bookshop and found a copy of a new book in the Ice and Fire series, and there was money inside the book to buy it with! (mostly £2 coins). But the shopkeeper would only sell me like, a BIT of the book. I tried to argue with her that there was a price inside the cover but in the end I just bought a shitty magazine and then we went back on the bus.
I have no idea what I was actually trying to accomplish in this dream. I don't think I had a mission or campaign or anything so coherent. Mostly just going about on a minibus.
AND NOW, SPEAKING OF THE DIRECTOR'S CUT, LET'S ALL WATCH THE SCENE ALEXANDER KISSES BAGOAS ON REPLAY FOR A WHILE
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uXi_TubdRZs
YUMMMM.
DAT SET THOUGH.
SORRY FOR SHITTY QUALITY BUT YOU'D BETTER BELIEVE I HAVE REPLAYED THIS ON THE DVD X10000.
(my housemate LOVED the film btw. Like ADORED it. And had a million questions for me about costume, gesture, names, dialogue, sources, etc....and of course there is nothing I like better than explaining my geeky passions to people). We've only seen the first disc so far because the director's cut is in two parts cos it's so long, but she wants to watch it again before she watches the second one with me to try and understand more. UGH I LOVE IT WHEN PEOPLE GET STUFF I LOVE AND THEN THEY'RE LIKE OMG I LOVE THIS.
Also, we did an interchange last night - she is nearly a qualified podiatrist and practiced her patient interview on me and touched my feeeeeet (ARGH) and then I practiced a paper on her. She did a much better job than me. My delivery sucked and I have to edit the paper quite a lot tomorrow. And buy train tickets for the conference.
I learned something interesting though which is that the reason I hate wearing shoes (and don't really like walking tbh, I'd much rather cycle) is that the joints of my feet are hyper-mobile and my big toes are really rigid, so they don't bend on impact and the place under my next toe takes all the work of absorbing impact and pushing off the ground. So the way I walk is quite unnatural and crappy for my feet. But a lot of people have this problem, and it's because we're not evolved to walk on flat surfaces, so our big toes don't get the opportunity to curl around rocks and stuff like they're supposed to. BUT SHE IS GOING TO TOUCH PEOPLE'S FEET FOR A LIVING VOLUNTARILY.I can just about tolerate my *own* feet, which are externally healthy and have like healthy nails and stuff and don't sweat much. BUT SHE IS GOING TO TOUCH PEOPLE'S FEET THAT HAVE ALL... STUFF WRONG WITH THEM. AAARGH. I HATE FEET.
Yesterday I went to town, had lunch out with my girlfriends, and spent the money for conference train tickets on a haircut. OH WELL. I got another paper accepted to a journal and the printer's proofs for the first one to correct, so that's all going well. Finally, I'm doing pretty well with not restricting my food intake regardless of scale fluctuations - which I used to take as a sign to restrict immediately, but am learning to tolerate and realize that actually, averaged over a week, they don't really go anywhere. I'm pretty proud of myself on that front. I feel a lot healthier and more energetic and warmer and like I have more time for my friends/social life and don't have to just leave/go to bed early/whatever because I'm out of energy. Yesterday, I making some humorous observations on an advert, and one of my dearest friends was cracking up and said to me: 'Jude, you're so funny'. And it really warmed me. Being known for being funny is better than being known for being the thin one. Of course, identity is a constant work in progress and no-one can step in the same river twice (which will be my next tattoo, by the way), but I think it's important for a full and lasting remission to let go of 'the thin one' as part of your self-image. Let's face it: we're social creatures, and this society reads a great deal into degrees of thinness/fatness, inferring all sorts of information from those perceptions, and thinness is obviously the positive half of that binary. To say - I would rather be funny than thin, I would rather be clever than thin, I would rather be kind than thin sounds obvious, but really our society pays only lip-service to those concepts. Thinness is immensely privileged. What makes me a little sad though, is that when I get hungry, above all, it feels familiar - because I now realize that that is how I used to feel *all the time*. Low-level hunger was my normal state until, well, the past year or so really. I just didn't recognise it - I thought that was just what being alive felt like.
As to dem kitties, they are good - Bibi had a colitis flare up, so I put her on soft food only for a couple of days and got her a probiotic which sorted her out. Mummy knows how to look after her. I swear she is like a bratty little sister to Zara - last night she was sitting royally on the coffee table, being king of the castle, and Zara made to come up too, so Bibi shoved her off and jumped on her like NO MY FORT. Then when Zara innocently walked past Bibi gave her a smack. Zara does seem to see he as an annoying but endearing little sister because she grooms her a lot, particularly her head, and they do cuddle together, but when Bibi gets to riotous Zara turns around and hisses at her to back off. They're like my own little wildlife show.
Okay, so it's Sunday, I'm gonna visit my mother. Haven't heard back about jobs for next year yet....just keeping on with publications/finishing marking/research.