Here's another post nobody will read, because they've all got bored and gone to much more interesting pastures...
I think I might be what I have dubbed a "blog voyeur"... I have all of these grand intentions of writing vast tracts of penetrating observations, get some great ideas... and never follow through. It's almost as if, having prepared mentally to write, I don't need to any more. I'm not sure how useful this is, to be honest - imagine if that's how my brain forces me to work when I'm meant to be, say, writing an exam or something. But I am perfectly happy reading several blogs, where the same thing happens - I think of a comment, and then never put it on anyone's blog...
And another thing... I am currently in the career doldrums, so if anyone's got any bright ideas, do tell! I suspect I have a bit of a boredom threshold problem - once I know how to do something, that's it. The problem is, it's a bit inconvenient to get bored with a pretty high-paying, permanent government job with pretty great working hours and flexibility, etc! So for now, I surf the government job vacancies website looking for a job at the same level, but in a different area, that I can get bored with later on (Plan B is to go have a chat to the head of Paediatric training next Friday, but the lack of the green stuff is what worries me - not that I'm a money grubbing weasel, but we're paying off a shitload of debt)...
Things I have recently wanted to write about, but didn't:
Firstly, here's a short review of the movie "300":
1. Don't waste your money. It's basically a propaganda film for the Bushian way of life, as far as I can tell, ie fascism. The funny thing was, Xerxes' mob actually reminded me more of the US (cultural imperialism), and the Spartans reminded me of the Iraqis (small band of soldiers defending their homeland)(of course, there are also a lot of differences - I'm not saying they're the same in every way)... go figure!
2. It's very beautifully filmed. Every frame looks like a painting. Sadly, if the best thing that can be said of a movie is, "great special effects", or, "great cinematography", that almost invariably means that it's shite.
3. It is also wildly inaccurate. Check out the real story and you'll see what I mean. And, why the f*** couldn't they call the f**king place Thermopylae???!!!
4. As a medical professional, I fail to see how some deformities could have existed, even had they been generated by deliberate mutilation. The hunchback appeared to be toting an unborn foetus on his back, among other bizarre things.
5. David Wenham is one of the best actors of this century, but please, why did he have to speak in that weird-ass trying-not-to-fart accent?!
6. I could go on, but I might start frothing at the mouth. For a more detailed demolition of this piece, I suspect that Bronze John will be doing his bit pretty soon.
On the Decapitation of Saint Valentine (borrowed this one from Foilwoman):
I wanted to talk about love languages. I've been reading this book that basically says that different people show their love for each other in different ways - that in a marriage, each person in the couple might have a different "love language". This Dr Chapman simplifies it down to 5 main love languages, although I suspect that maybe sometimes people don't fit a category - that perhaps it's not quite as straightforward as that. But it's not a bad way of looking at how you conduct relationships.
The 5 love languages are: Quality Time, Words of Affirmation, Acts of Service, Physical Affection and Giving and Receiving Gifts. The problem can be that if your partner doesn't communicate to you in your love language, you can feel unloved, even though they may be busting a gut in their own love language (eg the husband that does millions of odd jobs, when his wife actually would love for him to hug and kiss her more often). You can also be bi-lingual, in that 2 modes are of equal importance. And I think sometimes, particular modes can become more important - say, if you're not getting any of a particular style of affection.
I was worrying about this because I figured out that I am bi-lingual in Physical Affection, and in Giving and Receiving Gifts. Also pretty close behind them, is Quality Time. My problem is that I have always been taught, and have told myself, that it is Bad to be Materialistic. But I have realised that for me at least, gifts are not supposed to mean that - I take as much pleasure in being given a second-hand coat my sister has picked up at the Salvo's, as I would if someone had spent bucket-loads - it's the choice of gift for me, that's important. What I mean is, if it shows that someone has thought about what I like, and what suits me, and so on, and found something that could be worth nothing in monetary terms, but that gives me a great deal of pleasure to have. And I also like to give people gifts in that way. I will often see something and think a certain person will like this, so I get it for them. Or I make it for them, if my sewing machine's working; or, in the case of one of my best friends, I am working on breeding it for them!
I also like to be able to tell stories about gifts I have been given. My engagement ring was paid for by a penniless BJ, who worked for 2 weeks picking fruit so he could give it to me. This makes that diamond worth a million carats to me. More recently I did a whinge-fest about how I got him a wallet for our 9th wedding anniversary (because his old one kept vomiting all his money and credit cards all over the floor), and he hadn't got me anything (to be fair, he was pretty unwell, and we also had no money - but I didn't let the facts shut me up!)... Last week he went out and emptied said wallet to bring me back a beautiful ruby pendant and ring... a far far bigger present than I meant (I had suggested another bit of silver to hang about my person somewhere!), so now I can never complain again! Not that I am complaining, mind - it's just that BJ is about the most non-materialistic person you could meet. His primary love languages are probably Physical Touch and Acts of Service. He couldn't care less about his clothes, as long as he isn't pointed at in the street or sent home from work, and his only jewellery is his wedding ring (which to his credit, he hasn't lost once in 9.33 years of marriage!). The other thing I love is that if someone has given me something I wear, whenever I wear it, I think of them. This means that pretty much daily, BJ and several of my other best friends are constantly in my thoughts.
So, in my opinion, desiring or giving gifts isn't always about the materialism and commercialism of days like Valentine's day...
The Intimate Assassin:
This is probably a load of wank, but anyway... We recently watched the Serenity DVD again. In this, our intrepid band are being pursued by a softly spoken man who is almost loving in the way he interacts with his quarry, yet he is lethal and incredibly ruthless. I had this idea that what made him deadly was his empathy and his understanding of his enemy, and his apparent sorrow at what he had to do. And from that, that the most deadly things in our lives are the things we might love or feel we need the most - the drug or gambling addiction, the cigarettes; that cause our cancer; the smooth-talking but evil lover, the woman who demolishes your self-esteem but gives you great sex so you keep coming back; that so-sweet guy who is so so sorry after he's nearly strangled you. Or, the "best friend" who consistently puts you down to make themselves look good - hasn't everyone had one of these in primary school? I suppose that in general, maybe the Intimate Assassin might be your comfort zone - it's killing you, but the unknown might be worse. (It might also be better, but many may never find out).
Maybe this doesn't make any sense at all. But then I thought that song by Uncle Cracker was like that too - that line where he says "I'll swim through your veins like a fish in the sea" - to me, that was some form of intoxication, whether it be love or lust, or, perhaps, heroin.
I don't know if any of that really relates to the Assassin in Serenity. But I did feel his overwhelming empathy/love/sorrow at the same time as his overwhelming determination to do what he believed must be done.
Finally, on the mental health front:
Designer Stubble Man now has more of a thicket - I may not be able to see his face next time I go. After a bit of a tail spin a few weeks ago, he has changed me from escitalopram to fluvoxamine (in combination with reboxetine, which I was already taking). Much better, side-effect-wise, but I suspect in the last few days my brain has taken a bit of a downturn as one medication wears off and the other kicks in. Inconveniently, at night (when trying to get to sleep), I keep reliving and obsessing over recent traumatic experiences. But I have a sense that the actual sleep has started to improve a tiny bit, once I get to sleep. Which is good - I had cranked up the quetiapine to 75mg and had developed a fairly toxic brain-fade... I was even thinking of running for Parliament... but seriously, being forgetful and not nearly as mentally sharp as I am used to being; unless of course it is the depression, but time will tell...
And on the Cat Front:
Several of my babies kicked some feline arse last weekend, and tomorrow, hopefully, they might do it again! Even if they don't, the show is in a little country village, where there is a really good lolly shop, so it's a win-win situation!
More next millenium (by the way, I have had my hair dyed red and black in stripes, if anyone cares!),
Tournee du Chat Noir