I read an article in "Science News" some months ago about recent studies involving people with brain psychosis--schitzophrenics, etc. They mentioned random cases, but the one that I still remember was the woman who suffered some kind of shock trauma and broke her arm, and, upon recovery, couldn't ever remember having an arm. Her brain had somehow erased its existance, and, while the arm was fully working, she could not grasp the concept of the limb ever being bodily connected to her. She went on about her daily life, and referred to her arm as "the rock." Recently, as I sat on my bed de-spiraling my middle school math notebooks, which, incidently, took me about half an hour and a pair of pliars, I tried to pull a similar experience. If you put your arm down, let it relax, and get used to the sensation of whatever it may be resting on, you can, for a few seconds, look at it as some kind of foreign object. It's no longer your arm, but some other arm, or just some piece of skin and flesh sitting there in front of you. If you then will yourself to move your finger, it's a kind of mild shock when you see the flesh move and you feel a brush against your skin.
Limbs are the oddest part of the human anatomy. How strange it is that our minds are so synchronized with these hanging bones.
"Writing is an adventure. To begin with, it is a toy and an amusement. Then it becomes a mistress, then it becomes a master, then it becomes a tyrant. The last phase is that just as you are about to be reconciled to your servitude, you kill the monster and fling him to the public." -Winston Churchill
writing is a huge bitch. i don't know why i want to do it in the future. it starts out amusing, and it ends up frustrating the hell out of me. it's like this all consuming, completely draining experience that causes aches in my head and, occasionally, fingers. it will also steal lots and lots of valuable movie-watching time away from you. the only nice thing about it is that it feels very lovely after you're finished, especially if the writing isn't shitty. i suppose it's that high you're supposed to get after you run a mile or whatever, not that i've ever reached that point.
i'm going to start running again. back when i thought i was going to do cross country, i was running a mile three days a week. the food i could eat! the calorie intake! i could take down an entire medium pizza, depending on what i had had for breakfast. i just can't eat like i used to.
last night i watched "harrison's flowers," a very random movie i put at the top of my netflicks queue because david strathairn was in it. unfortunately for me, he was "killed off" within the first 15 minutes. i only got to see his hot naked body for about a second.
the movie surprised me though. it centered around photojournalists and war coverage. it kind of had a ridiculous plot--basically this woman's husband disappears in former yugoslavia, where he is stationed as a photojournalist, and so, convinced that he isn't dead, she journeys over to europe to try to find him. this is really just an excuse to get the film into the war, however, where the movie changes from lifetime-esque to this full out saving private ryan war film. it was incredibly realistic and disturbing. adrien brody was also in it, as one of the photojournalists, and he was phenomenal. this scene where they enter this serbian village vukuvar, where the croatians are imposing ethnic cleansing, was absolutely horrifying. the movie wasn't perfect, it ended kind of cheese-ball-y, but it really stuck in my head for some reason. i really, really need someone else to see it so i can talk to them about it.
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gotta remember that
i'm using a pencil engraved as "the black warrior".
i think i spent a total of 9 hours watching "house" this weekend. and tomorrow is no school, which means disc 3 of the season 1 DVD. what a good show! what a sexy sexy man!