{ yesterday's tweets. }

• 08:48 Dissertation sent; toiletries bought; breakfast had. Now to work until it's time to hand things in. Aie. #
• 09:37 Dissertation is now bound. Posting at lj then heading off to pick it up. !!! #
• 11:00 DISSERTATION HANDED IN! \o/ #
• 14:14 Heading to class 2 hours early so that we can buy tickets to see Streetcar Named Desire. \o/ #
• 19:37 Class = good. Day = gorgeous. Foot = swollen. Tonight = alcoholic shenanigans. Yays all around! #
• 19:38 lols, The Flatmate has fallen asleep on my bed, bless her. #
• 20:05 It's probably wrong but I LOVE Mark Harmon. Like. A crazy amount. #

{ when the ropes were pulling you in. }

Thank you to every one who left me happy messages yesterday. Naturally, I'm feeling a little buzzed. It's lovely outside - I want to play Sheryl Crow really loudly and dance about in the sun!

--

In the first year, The Flatmate and I watched Enigma. We liked it but due to not paying attention during some crucial points, we didn't completely understand what happened. Recently I realised that two of the pivotal characters were played by Saffron Burrows and Nikolaj Coster-Waldau so last night, The Flatmate and I decided to watch it again. We were both pretty knackered out (we'd spent a few hours getting our brains bleached by the gorgeous sunny weather) and I drank my lambrini pretty quickly, so it's surprising that we understood anything this time around. We remembered a lot of it, but there was one section which neither of us remembered having seen. Naturally we both remembered important parts of the conclusion, but they made much more sense this time around.

The film is a WWII period drama revolving around counter-intelligence and code-breaking. ( history lesson, yay. )

Dougray Scott's character is a code-breaker who had a bit of a mental hissy because of a manipulative relationship with Saffron Burrows. When he comes back to the job, she has gone missing. Scott, along with Kate Winslet's character (Burrows' housemate) try to determine where she is and why she's gone missing. Coster-Waldau is another code-breaker. Matthew MacFadyen plays this wonderfully stiff and loyal Naval Officer, whilst Jeremy Northam is with the Secret Service. Northam's character is looking for Burrows, too; she's caught up in a mess over something she's helped to decode - is she a German spy? Is she in trouble?

( spoilers. )

Burrows' character is so much of an enigma herself that understanding what happened to her was still confusing. That said, I really enjoyed re-watching the film, and it's a great cast and a great story. Based on Robert Harris' novel of the same title, the film is a bit wishy-washy when it comes to historical basis, but really, I don't think that matters in the least. I really do think that a lot of the flist will like this one.

--

I'm going to head to the library to drop off all the books I took out for the dissertation, and then I'm going to do some research for my Traditions in Poetry essay. Busy, busy. Some time today I need to go to Pw. and buy some real food, or at the least some more mango juice.

--

So, yeah, Women's Murder Club is just... it brings me a lot of glee. I'm behind on everything else, but I put time aside last week to watch the new episode. I'm glad I did; I don't think anything else could have elicited so much zen from me when I was flipping out.

--

Listening to news about Burma is making me sad and angry. Aid should have been allowed in earlier.

{ Wisława Szymborska: Cassandra. }

Cassandra
by Wisława Szymborska

Here I am, Cassandra.
And this is my city under ashes.
And these are my prophet's staff and ribbons.
And this is my head full of doubts.

It's true, I am triumphant.
My prophetic words burn like fire in the sky.
Only unacknowledged prophets
are privy to such prospects.
Only those who got off on the wrong foot,
whose predictions turned to fact so quickly—
it's as if they'd never lived.

I remember it so clearly—
how people, seeing me, would break off in midword.
Laughter died.
Lovers' hands unclasped.
Children ran to their mothers.
I didn't even know their short-lived names.
And that song about a little green leaf—
no one ever finished it near me.

I loved them.
But I loved them haughtily.
From heights beyond life.
From the future. Where it's always empty
and nothing is easier than seeing death.
I'm sorry that my voice was hard.
Look down on yourselves from the stars, I cried,
look down on yourselves from the stars.
They heard me and lowered their eyes.

They lived within life.
Pierced by that great wind.
Condemned.
Trapped from birth in departing bodies.
But in them they bore a moist hope,
a flame fuelled by its own flickering.
They really knew what a moment means,
oh any moment, any one at all
before—

It turns out I was right.
But nothing has come of it.
And this is my robe, slightly singed.
And this is my prophet's junk.
And this is my twisted face.
A fact that didn't know it could be beautiful.

--

Library, then to town. It's too nice a day to be cooped up indoors.

{ showah-showah. }

[Poll #1184140]

I'm referring to times when you need to clean yourself, not when you take a bath to relax.

--

In other news: happy birthday solanpolarn and svu_fan_4ever!