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Two days to go until the degree show deadline - my end-of-year exhibition, my last ever university deadline. I've been having nightmares recently. I don't if it's because I'm snoozing in the mornings again, or because I'm subliminally scared shitless about my wide open future. (Last time, an alien-cricket with a face like Darth Mauls was trying to turn people in to animals. My classmates and I hid in a cupboard and I pulled my hood over my head, hoping that would help.) Turns out as I was dreaming it, my sister was watching a documentary about Egyptian experiments to turn people in to animals. I've had a handful of eerily preminatory dreams. Once I was a tiny dwarf with a pick axe, scraping red paint off the tunnel walls as I sped along. When I woke up, my period had started.

Kim and I watched Keanu Reeves display little emotion in a suit, yet again, in the remake of 'The Day the Earth Stood Still'. Later I watched the original 'Assault on Precinct Thirteen' which I thoroughly enjoyed. All this movie watching is peppered with a little Jerry Springer a lot of 'I didn't know I was pregnant' and much eating until I feel sick. I've been to the doctor about my uncontrollable comfort eating and she gave me a card with a number to phone. I imagine if I have too much free time and an abundance of easy food, I will always over eat. The answer lies in working for my meals, growing my own and spending the day cleaning and toiling and looking after animals.

Soon I graduate, after four formative years, and leave behind this life to earn my keep on several organic farms. I volunteered to help clean up the woods near my house last week and felt like a real person for a day. I gashed my toe pretty bad while trying to fly a kite in my socks down a driveway. I'm trying to dress it so the skin gets pushed back to where it should be, but I'm not too hopeful. If anyone feels inclined to read my supporting material blog for Uni it can be found at dollysmack.blogspot.com and is partly waffle and partly interesting.
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I had a dream I kissed John Green. From above, Spiderman style. I feel like he wasn't that in to it though, I think I had kinda sneaked up on him and was forcibly turning his head. Pretty much like how it would go down in real life, then.

When people say they're 'obsessed' with a certain show, I generally take it to mean they really enjoy the show, watch every episode and maybe read up on it online. So, I think I need a new word to describe the very real obsession that is growing inside of me ever since I finished series five of Dexter. I bought the soundtrack and a Miami Chills Ice Truck hoodie. I wanted to wrap my room in plastic sheeting and make blood punch and spatter cupcakes for a Dexter party, but now I'm seeing pictures online where people have already done this and realised there are disposable Dexter party cups and plates for just such occasions! I joined a Dexter community but feel episode viewings are too personal and sacred an experience to discuss with others. A friend recommended 'Six Feet Under' to me and while I enjoyed the pilot, and this friend maintains it is one of the best shows he's ever seen, I am overly distracted by a young Michael C. Hall whose character is gay and shares sweet man kisses that make me squee like I'm fifteen. I thought I was a mature appreciator of deserving talent so I'm surprised at my inner giddy fangirl tempted to exploit these sensitive scenes for gifs.

I go running (for the five minutes I can manage) in the rain, listening to Blood Theme on my old shuffle. God it's just so GOOD, you know? I first discovered Dexter in a smokey haze when I lived alone. I was so impressed by it's calibar, I resolved to always watch sober and have full mastery of my senses. By series two, I had failed in my resoloution and would often watch episodes a couple of times to recap so I wouldn't miss a thing. Hearing that opening theme with those stunning titles takes me right back to that smelly flat. Coming home from a long day waiting tables, lighting up a fatty boom batty and anticipating the highlight of my day.
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We were in my old high school - just us, the kids, unattended. I think it was night time. We were running, squealing through the building, darting in to empty classrooms and up and down staircases. Someone, messing about, tried to scare me. I couldn't see her but she could see me. I asked her to stop but she wouldn't so I darted up the stairs and ran, ran, ran

I was on a beach at dusk with my peers. We had been playing in the water but now the tide was rising and darkness was enroaching. I could see silouettes far in the distance. Monsters with horns. I tried to explain "They come out at night". We crept into the heart of the stretch: a bright maze of padded flowerbeds that rose above out heads. We found our way to somewhere safe. It was meant for kids younger than us, so we didn't quite fit. But we made our way through. What comes next?
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I am forty minutes in to Black Swan and I've had to admit defeat and pause it for a break. This movie just does not let up! Nearly every scene is unflinchingly uncomfortable and I feel a bit sick from the tension. I sat through the intense surgery scene in Hard Candy without pausing but I simple cannot make it through this. From moments of gore, to nauseating incestual overtones to the stifling competition in the ballet company - even the colours are draining grey or sickly pink. It's wonderful and I honestly feel sick to my stomach.

Of course, I have had a concoction of pickled cauliflower and yogurt for breakfast and am running on zero hours sleep so that may be why I'm feeling the effects so acutely. But the film's a terrible masterpiece and I'm about to put myself thorugh another harrowing forty minutes. I throughly recommend it!

Edit: 80 minutes in and I've had to stop again. I've started averting my eyes from the screen when I know something really terrifying/gross is about to be shown, but it doesn't do much to dispel the horror. I'm far past enjoying this anymore, it's become like a test of endurance. It's building up to a horrific creschendo now, and after each scene I think 'Jesus Christ, it can't get any worse' but it always does. I remember feeling simliar to this when watching Requiem for a Dream, except it isn't quite as harrowing as that, and also when watching The Orphanage, but it isn't such a clear cut terror. My dad quietly came in to my room to collect some cups for the dishwasher during a particularly jumpy scene and I about had a nervous breakdown when I saw his big, dark shape out the corner of my eye. I'm not sure I'd recommend this to anyone anymore. It's rather like Drag Me To Hell, in a way - a quality film but one you'd wish you'd never seen as flashes of it will forever haunt the insides of your eyelids when you try to sleep.

Ok guys, I'm going back in. And then, possibly, sobbing quietly in a corner.

Edit: Huh! I guess after such heightened tension for the duration of the movie, the ending is almost guaranteed to dissapoint. A couple of parts lost the scare and veered over in to ridiculousness, and while it can be argued they did so because of Nina's imaginings...I dono, it just felt desperate. It was a fine ending, and tied up the story neatly just...to have suffered so much fear and doubt and then end in a relativly humble finale.

I have to question wether my sleep deprived state and it being dark out when I started watching, compared to the light coming in through the curtains and the caffine in my system now, affected how zoned in on the content I was. I mean that felt like an intolerably intense ride for the most part! And maybe I've only myself to blame for sectioning the tension into managable chunks with my breaks. I think if I'd sat through that in a one-r, especially in the cinema, I might feel more satisfied with it as a whole. But geez louise, I take my hat off to anyone who could manage that. That was some sick imagery, dark themes and distressing content. Makes me glad I gave up ballet at four years.
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I made a new years resolution to cut out packaged sugar and it's made a big difference to my diet. I'm still allowed sweet things but only if they've been used in a home-made recipe. So, whereas before I might have had a dish of icing sugar or mixed up some butter, sugar and flour to eat raw, I now make a biscuit-base lemon cheesecake or brownies or cinnamon buttercream cupcakes. It's about taking more care and pride in the food I prepare for myself and I'm feeling satisfied with the change. I was given Jamie Oliver's '30 minute meals' book for Christmas, so that's an extra incentive to get cooking in the kitchen.

I made a new video for Uni, in the same vein as my previous one. I feel like a bit of a cad, because the original was about choosing words than emphasise a materialistic nature but this one just seems like I'm making fun of the girl. It's no longer a social commentary but a slagging match. I have a feeling it will go down well at art school, all the same >.>

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