Of PL 10 and James Douglas Bloody Morrison

My procrastinatory abilities have reached wonderful new levels. I am in fact, possibly the greatest procrastinator the great British university system has ever seen.

In order to not write my dissertation, which is due in on Friday, btw, I have done the following:

1. Make not one, but two bowls of salad. This includes arranging pieces of ripped lettuce so it looks neat and making the tomatoes symmetrical in the bowl.

2. I have watched Eastenders, despite the fact I haven't watched it regularly since about 1998.

3. I have gone to every website I frequent several times, and some entirely new places on the internet.

4. I have watched five episodes of The West Wing, despite the fact that I've seen each and every one of them many times before.

5. I watched the documentary about Ampleforth College in Yorkshire despite the fact that I couldn't care less except to find out if the monks are as old-fashioned as I expected them to be. Some of them really are.

6. I watched a show all about a family moving from the rat race in Britain to the quiet life in the Dordogne. I sat in awe as they honestly expected it to be easy despite not one of them being able to um... speak French. Some British people are so arrogant when it comes to language. I may be more or less unilingual (I know various swear words and useless stuff), but I'm not bloody proud of it and I'm not about to move to France and expect to fit right in.

7. I searched for myself on Google. Not just me, but under Clare Worley, Apolla and 'Daoimear'. I actually found that someone had used it as a quote of the day or something and I didn't know. Not that this does anything other than make me smile and think I'm not entirely wasting my time writing.

8. I replied to an email I got a week ago from someone who liked my website and the Buffyfic contained therein.

9. I read angiej's PL 10, which isn't so much about procrastination but my inability to leave it unread while I do anything else. It is, btw, bloody fantastic, although I personally expected nothing less from a writer of Eb's calibre. Eb- you're bloody brilliant.

10. I wrote a fairly long reply to brianyoon and his Beatle related question. I'm not sure though, if that's because I'm a mad Beatlefan or if I'm trying to get out of working or both. Sorry Brian!

11. I have done some of the tiny details of my dissertation: the title page, the dedication and acknowlegements page, in which I thank my best friend, my other pals here, my mum, dad, godfather, Errol Flynn, George Harrison, John Lennon, Dean Martin, Jim Morrison (even though the whole pucking thing is about him and I now hate him), Ava Gardner and the original Norma Jeane. Oh, and my birth mother, wherever she is. It's like my bloody Oscar acceptance speech or something. I've also written the Contents page, although it has no numbers yet because I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANYTHING YET!

12. I am writing a lengthy LJ post which so far is very much about nothing at all. On the bright side, one of my chapters is now 1000 words long, another is nearly 500 words long and the already roughly written Final Chapter remains as it was six weeks ago.

I am fairly sure that, in one of the most ironic twists ever known, Jim is going to drive me to drink. That or endless cups of hot chocolate at The Venue. On the bright side, Natasha is being incredibly helpful considering hers is due in at the same time. Of course, hers is done in a timely fashion....

A couple of things: liss1224 has no reason to be camera shy and as soon as I get round to scanning my Platform 9 3/4 and recent pics, I will return the favour, I promise.

gryffinseye- I'll have to read it on Friday. I'm going to be strong and not open the attachment.

nightfalltwen- You and Liss and Eb just had to post this week, didn't you? Sod's law, I swear!

Lastly, because I feel this is important for me to say. There are some incredibly strong, brave women in this fandom who have had to endure things no human being should have to endure. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for sharing your experiences with us all because I think it's something we all- male and female- should be made aware of. Thank you.

And with that, I shall stop boring you all and go find something else to do to put off the inevitable.

EDIT: If any of you have any thoughts about The Doors and sexuality and gender, I'd be happy to hear what you have to think. :D

Of PL 10 and James Douglas Bloody Morrison

My procrastinatory abilities have reached wonderful new levels. I am in fact, possibly the greatest procrastinator the great British university system has ever seen.

In order to not write my dissertation, which is due in on Friday, btw, I have done the following:

1. Make not one, but two bowls of salad. This includes arranging pieces of ripped lettuce so it looks neat and making the tomatoes symmetrical in the bowl.

2. I have watched Eastenders, despite the fact I haven't watched it regularly since about 1998.

3. I have gone to every website I frequent several times, and some entirely new places on the internet.

4. I have watched five episodes of The West Wing, despite the fact that I've seen each and every one of them many times before.

5. I watched the documentary about Ampleforth College in Yorkshire despite the fact that I couldn't care less except to find out if the monks are as old-fashioned as I expected them to be. Some of them really are.

6. I watched a show all about a family moving from the rat race in Britain to the quiet life in the Dordogne. I sat in awe as they honestly expected it to be easy despite not one of them being able to um... speak French. Some British people are so arrogant when it comes to language. I may be more or less unilingual (I know various swear words and useless stuff), but I'm not bloody proud of it and I'm not about to move to France and expect to fit right in.

7. I searched for myself on Google. Not just me, but under Clare Worley, Apolla and 'Daoimear'. I actually found that someone had used it as a quote of the day or something and I didn't know. Not that this does anything other than make me smile and think I'm not entirely wasting my time writing.

8. I replied to an email I got a week ago from someone who liked my website and the Buffyfic contained therein.

9. I read angiej's PL 10, which isn't so much about procrastination but my inability to leave it unread while I do anything else. It is, btw, bloody fantastic, although I personally expected nothing less from a writer of Eb's calibre. Eb- you're bloody brilliant.

10. I wrote a fairly long reply to brianyoon and his Beatle related question. I'm not sure though, if that's because I'm a mad Beatlefan or if I'm trying to get out of working or both. Sorry Brian!

11. I have done some of the tiny details of my dissertation: the title page, the dedication and acknowlegements page, in which I thank my best friend, my other pals here, my mum, dad, godfather, Errol Flynn, George Harrison, John Lennon, Dean Martin, Jim Morrison (even though the whole pucking thing is about him and I now hate him), Ava Gardner and the original Norma Jeane. Oh, and my birth mother, wherever she is. It's like my bloody Oscar acceptance speech or something. I've also written the Contents page, although it has no numbers yet because I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ANYTHING YET!

12. I am writing a lengthy LJ post which so far is very much about nothing at all. On the bright side, one of my chapters is now 1000 words long, another is nearly 500 words long and the already roughly written Final Chapter remains as it was six weeks ago.

I am fairly sure that, in one of the most ironic twists ever known, Jim is going to drive me to drink. That or endless cups of hot chocolate at The Venue. On the bright side, Natasha is being incredibly helpful considering hers is due in at the same time. Of course, hers is done in a timely fashion....

A couple of things: liss1224 has no reason to be camera shy and as soon as I get round to scanning my Platform 9 3/4 and recent pics, I will return the favour, I promise.

gryffinseye- I'll have to read it on Friday. I'm going to be strong and not open the attachment.

nightfalltwen- You and Liss and Eb just had to post this week, didn't you? Sod's law, I swear!

Lastly, because I feel this is important for me to say. There are some incredibly strong, brave women in this fandom who have had to endure things no human being should have to endure. I thank you all from the bottom of my heart for sharing your experiences with us all because I think it's something we all- male and female- should be made aware of. Thank you.

And with that, I shall stop boring you all and go find something else to do to put off the inevitable.

EDIT: If any of you have any thoughts about The Doors and sexuality and gender, I'd be happy to hear what you have to think. :D

A few random things vis a vis Errol and Jim.

Just a few things while I'm still trying to get out of working...

Watching 'The Soft Parade' on DVD, I was kinda surprised that Jim (by now in his fat, beardy state) isn't actually that fat. I mean, compared to his former self, sure. But from the back he looks the same, which leads me to suspect that Morrison spent his time hardly eating and drinking a lot. That bit doesn't surprise me, actually. From the back he looks like.... like Jim. But then you look closer and realise his hair isn't merely tousled, it's in a state, you look closer and you realise his cheekbones have disappeared and his eyes are almost hidden. His voice sounds like it's been ripped to shreds or just dried out by alcohol.

It's just like watching Errol Flynn in the late forties and early fifties. He seems like Flynn, sounds like Flynn... Then you look closer and realise that he's actually barely recognisable.

I hate watching them both deteriorate, even though it's fifty/thirty years later. I hate that when he died at 27, Morrison had the body of a fifty year old. I hate knowing that the doctor who checked Flynn out after he died was certain that this man was 75, although he was barely fifty. I hate that neither of them were strong enough to kick it into touch and I hate that their friends didn't know to help more. I hate that they weren't locked in a room to dry out. I hate that they were both living in the days before Betty Ford and the Priory and rehab. I hate that neither of them ever actually knew what it was like to be really, truly content. I hate that showbiz killed both of them and I hate knowing that really it wasn't showbiz as much as it was themselves. And I hate most of all that I wasn't there to at least try and help them. Because bloody hell, I would try. Perhaps, you know, I would've ended up getting narked with both of them like their pals did. Perhaps I would've given up like everyone else did. But I hate that I came along too late to help. That's why I can't ever forget that bloody dream because I want so desperately to help them. I know they've been rotting in LA and Paris for decades, and I know it's absolutely illogical.

I still don't have enough done. I'm not going to sleep until I've finished Chapters One and three, both of which are at about the halfway mark. Which leaves tomorrow for the whole of chapter two and tweaking of Chapter Four. And footnotes. And bibliography. And making sure it all adheres to the anal demands of the American Studies dept. stylewise. And deciding if I'm doing a picture appendix. And proofreading (something I've never done for schoolwork in my life). Then on Friday: printing and getting it bound and handing the bastard in.

And yes, I know this hectic schedule is all my fault. I know that. I'm not apportioning blame anywhere but right here. The buck hath come to a complete standstill. In fact, I'm thinking of having cards made.

And one last thing: there are some fanfic writers who shouldn't be writing if pointing out problems with formatting results in a big flame back. I must be bored if I'm going to FF.net. On the other hand- read Yumi's 'Ordinary' and 'Story', both of which were thoroughly enjoyable.

I'm going now. Go back to your regularly scheduled programming.

A few random things vis a vis Errol and Jim.

Just a few things while I'm still trying to get out of working...

Watching 'The Soft Parade' on DVD, I was kinda surprised that Jim (by now in his fat, beardy state) isn't actually that fat. I mean, compared to his former self, sure. But from the back he looks the same, which leads me to suspect that Morrison spent his time hardly eating and drinking a lot. That bit doesn't surprise me, actually. From the back he looks like.... like Jim. But then you look closer and realise his hair isn't merely tousled, it's in a state, you look closer and you realise his cheekbones have disappeared and his eyes are almost hidden. His voice sounds like it's been ripped to shreds or just dried out by alcohol.

It's just like watching Errol Flynn in the late forties and early fifties. He seems like Flynn, sounds like Flynn... Then you look closer and realise that he's actually barely recognisable.

I hate watching them both deteriorate, even though it's fifty/thirty years later. I hate that when he died at 27, Morrison had the body of a fifty year old. I hate knowing that the doctor who checked Flynn out after he died was certain that this man was 75, although he was barely fifty. I hate that neither of them were strong enough to kick it into touch and I hate that their friends didn't know to help more. I hate that they weren't locked in a room to dry out. I hate that they were both living in the days before Betty Ford and the Priory and rehab. I hate that neither of them ever actually knew what it was like to be really, truly content. I hate that showbiz killed both of them and I hate knowing that really it wasn't showbiz as much as it was themselves. And I hate most of all that I wasn't there to at least try and help them. Because bloody hell, I would try. Perhaps, you know, I would've ended up getting narked with both of them like their pals did. Perhaps I would've given up like everyone else did. But I hate that I came along too late to help. That's why I can't ever forget that bloody dream because I want so desperately to help them. I know they've been rotting in LA and Paris for decades, and I know it's absolutely illogical.

I still don't have enough done. I'm not going to sleep until I've finished Chapters One and three, both of which are at about the halfway mark. Which leaves tomorrow for the whole of chapter two and tweaking of Chapter Four. And footnotes. And bibliography. And making sure it all adheres to the anal demands of the American Studies dept. stylewise. And deciding if I'm doing a picture appendix. And proofreading (something I've never done for schoolwork in my life). Then on Friday: printing and getting it bound and handing the bastard in.

And yes, I know this hectic schedule is all my fault. I know that. I'm not apportioning blame anywhere but right here. The buck hath come to a complete standstill. In fact, I'm thinking of having cards made.

And one last thing: there are some fanfic writers who shouldn't be writing if pointing out problems with formatting results in a big flame back. I must be bored if I'm going to FF.net. On the other hand- read Yumi's 'Ordinary' and 'Story', both of which were thoroughly enjoyable.

I'm going now. Go back to your regularly scheduled programming.