Scary, Scary Stuff

My new 18-language-speaking-Shakespearean master-ballet dancer-stage actor-theology doctorate-ingenious intellectual-incapable-of-being-a-real-human lecturer has now organized that we (the second years) are going to be working on a film next year. A full length feature film! It's going to be an adaptation from a stage play. We're getting paid and everything... I'm scared shitless but I'm so excited!

I'll (hopefully) go into this in more detail at another stage, but just for a brief overview. We were discussing today how everything in one's life is their own choice. From disease to wealth. It's all related to thought processes and your surroundings. The theory is on the same lines as the fact that if girls spend a lot of time together they menstruate at the same time.

Now, I know I'm going to get a bunch of medical doctors saying that this is pure codswallop, but doctors never helped me so they can sod off. This study, however, proves that whenever one gets sick, it's not from a virus necessarily. It is in fact the body trying to cleanse itself before going through a change, be it change in season, workload or personal life. It's all very detailed but incredibly interesting.

Tomorrow we're doing an audio-exercize with this programe that supposedly hightens your senses by forcing the left and right hemispheres of the brain to work together, thus triggering a more receptive and creative thought process.

Film school has definitely taken a strange turn...

Major Concentration Lapse

I don't understand it. Everybody who knows me knows that I'm a very cautious driver. I may be crazy sometimes but I'm always in control. I've never been in an accident with another car (except for one in which he drove into my bum) and I'm always very careful.

Today I ran into a puppy. I didn't kill it. I thought I did but when I checked it, it seemed okay. Then on the way home tonight, an early night I might add, including only two glasses of wine in a three and a half hour period, I rode over the curb from Duncan into Burnette. My tyre burst and I lost control of the car.

I now have no hubcap and foreboding feelings about a little five year old boy whose dying dog doesn't seem to be taking to its de-worming medication, unknown to him that the cause of his pain is actually internal bleeding.

I blame it all on Chris. My new 18-language-speaking-Shakespearean master-ballet dancer-stage actor-theology doctorate-ingenius intillectual-incapable-of-being-a-real-human lecturer. He makes me think too much so I inevitably lose concentration. I should charge him for the damage.