It's been three days since my last post and all I can say is Film Festival. Christmas aside, it's the most wonderful time of the year. In fact, in some (mostly selfish) ways it's better than Christmas; there's no stress, except for fear of missing out on tickets if you don't have enough money to buy them in advance or have a ten-trip pass that won't let you get tickets until the day of the screening, plus when you see one you like you can just go to it and not feel bad about the person of whom you were meant to be thinking. AND the only contribution to landfill is a small piece of paper which you can easily recycle. Christmas has some stiff competition. Also, right at the end of the festival is my birthday and the anniversary of the best day of my life. The most wonderful time of the year.
I've been trying to churn out responses (I realise what I write are far too personal and uninformative in terms of the film-in-itself to be accurately called reviews) to the films I've seen as I've watched them, but when it's more than one a day it's not easy to do. I'll get them up as soon as I can though and you can read about them here; after tomorrow we have a break of two days when I can do some catching up.
Apart from the movies, of which there hasn't been a dud (highlights so far: Meek's Cut-Off and Guilty Pleasures, as well as Sing your Song, of course), this week has been a bit shit. I only know one other woman who occasionally goes through the type of PMS that sucker-punches me once every few months; when I feel low and horrible about myself, so horrible that I kind of loathe myself and dwell on things I know will make me feel bad (sometimes on purpose - I wish I wouldn't, but I feel that bad). It's a bit like a temporary depression; you can function, and you know it won't last, but you feel so low that it affects everything. I was thinking this week about Dr Melfi describing depression as rage turned inward, and trying to remember if I always felt this bad, and I don't think I did. The beginnings would be the same, but I would lash out and create a situation that would give me (pretty shaky) reasons for feeling bad, a bit like cutting, and I'd expect the person who was collateral to deal with it because I was feeling worse (and I always chose the people who loved me the most). Now I've learnt (and want) to turn it inward so I don't hurt anyone else, but the result is that the reasons I give myself for the way I feel are from me, based on my own insecurities; if the people who know you best can hurt you most, then no-one can hurt you more than you can hurt yourself. All the things I worry about or are threatened by come out like little demons and I don't know what to do; mostly I'll become very withdrawn and just try to get through knowing it's temporary. Sometimes I'll get very drunk (but then I risk losing control and making something happen like I used to), or hang out with people who don't know how I'm feeling and pretend to be okay and have them treat me like I'm not what I feel like I am; work's not bad for this reason. This week I did something new; shopping. And it actually helped. Here is one of the things I bought (which I would have bought anyway; I've had my eye on it since I saw it but couldn't justify it - cheering myself up seemed a good enough reason).
I hope you know the photo is supposed to be funny; I don't like showing my face on my blog, and initially thought I'd put a book up in front of it but it looked crazy (crazier than this, anyway), and the nearest books happened to be this, which I picked up last week in Whangarei, and The Penguin Book Of Socialist Verse, making this the less crazy option (honest to Engels. Just a little further were the two free Mills & Boon romances we got at Guilty Pleasures; there's no way this picture wasn't going to look ridiculous, even if I was bare-headed). I'll bet you didn't think that was possible. I can hear my big sister in Ahipara laughing from here.
So we almost come full circle. I, who have made sport of myself most of the week, now willingly make sport for you. Tomorrow I am confident I will wake up happy, and myself. I will sleep in, play games with my husband of almost two years, go and see a movie, and then write about it. I will wear my new hat and my head will be warm.
All is almost well.