"it matters. . ."

. . .there was a boy on a beach


.
the beach was littered with starfish - there had been a tropical storm and they had been cast up from their safe lodgings under the sea and thrown high up onto the sand by the vicious waves and the tide had gone out and they were beached
.
hundreds of them
.
hundreds and hundreds of starfish
.
the boy picked one up and threw it back into the water
.
the boy picked up a second and threw it back into the water
.
there was an old man on the beach watching the boy amongst the hundreds and hundreds of forlorn, out-of-place, slowly-dying-in-the-heat-of-the-sun starfish
.
the boy picked up a third and threw it back into the water
.
the old man said "what are you wasting your time for? there are hundreds of starfish on this beach - what do you think you can achieve? what does it matter?"
.
the boy picked up a fourth starfish and as he threw it back into the very depths of the ocean, he glanced over his shoulder, at the old man and said "it matters to this one"

le scaphandre et le papillon

having read the book, I did watch the film


it didn't ruin the book for me. . .

one of my thoughts was that depression is a little like a diving-bell of the mind, and if only my body's butterfly would take flight instead of staying locked up in its chrysalis I'd have more to distract myself with - you know, getting out and about a little (another thought was about training to be a Speech Therapist, and how I never practised once I'd qualified)

I love French films (not difficult, seeing as I love all things French) (within reason) but it always annoys me when the sub-titles aren't translated correctly, or not as I would have translated the words anyhow. . .

there is part of my brain which is bi-lingual, still, after all these years - and I know in my head exactly what the French words mean (the bi-lingual bit must be connected to a whole bunch of thoughts and experiences, which makes me think about the development of language in general and how the same word can mean different things to different people) and so if I see the English "translation" on screen and it is not how I imagine the translation, I become momentarily distracted from the plot. . .

but perhaps the person who translated the words into the sub-titles has a different meaning in their head (which could, of course, apply to someone speaking the same language as you - if you think about it)

what I mean is this:

I hear the French person say:
"don't forget"
(in French)
.

the sub-title person has written:
"remember"
(as the translation)

now that, for me, is not the same thing at all

and it sets me thinking about the difference between "not forgetting" and "remembering", which I see as two entirely different trains of thought

perhaps I need another coffee? I do recommend both book and film, but read the book if you only have time for one or the other

being

pick as sweet, any sweet - go on. . .
.
.
I'm feeling slightly frivolous today -
but only slightly, so I'm not going to overdo it

more nightmares last night, including the worst one I could have - maybe it's cleared the air tho, a little like a fresh morning after a night of thunderstorms which followed a hot and humid, muggy day

for the people who wonder if it's to do with the drugs, I think it is - I've been having the nightmares since I was put on the new medication (I did tell the nursing staff when I was in hospital, but they said if I didn't wake up screaming it wasn't a nightmare) (bollocks to that); also, I have come off the sleeping pills that my brain was/is addicted to - night five last night without it - so perhaps that's affecting things too

interestingly, without it (the sleeping drug) my body seems to wake up more naturally, rather than after six-and-a-half-hours; thus I had to set my alarm for this morning, in order to make sure I was up in time to meet Mini-Teen and take her into school

however, because of the nightmare, I had woken up an hour before the alarm went off; so I started rereading The Diving-Bell and The Butterfly in the early light, instead of drifting back into some kind of fitful sleep

if you recall,
this is the book that the delightful Tom lent me

have you read it? I haven't seen the film, so I can't comment on that - but the book is a total delight, despite its sadness; amongst many gifts, it has given me a new method of getting to sleep: I turn the light out and let my mind flutter off somewhere enjoyable, as Jean-Dom does in the book (I'm fully aware that he had no choice about this, whereas I do); it's almost like "choosing" happiness

which I didn't think was possible, and I'm not able to keep up the whole time, but am gradually learning is a possibility

at the other end of the morbidity scale, I've only had one evening in the last two weeks where I wanted to just end it all there and then; that night I went to bed early, instead of spending hours working myself into more and more of a deadend

so, pick a Love Heart - any Love Heart
and pass the message on to the person who makes you happy,
I'm very glad you have someone that does

later we could play
Love Heart Bingo
(I'll do it in order of comments, alright?
if anyone is going to make any today, that is)

things I've never seen #4

the film The Diving Bell and The Butterfly

I do remember that I purchased the DVD just before having the ECT, and I do remember talking to the wonderful and delightful Tom about the book while I was in hospital and I do know that one day I returned to my room after being in my "50%-" smoking place to find he had left the book on my bedside table. . .
.

. . .because I still have his copy

I don't really want to give it back, because I want to hold onto a piece of the delightful Tom; that sounds a little perverse - but something good has to come out of my six week incarceration, six sessions of ECT, huge quantities of new drugs and only being able to sleep if I take the tablet my brain is now addicted to, doesn't it - doesn't it?

(I sent Tom a postcard c/o the Head Clinic from France - it was of an image of a wave washing over the sands of a shoreline on which were two starfish nestled together; I thought of him and "it matters to this one" instantly; perhaps that is what I should hold onto, rather than his book)

I can see clearly now, the rain is gone
.
.
I can see all obstacles in my way
.
.
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
.
.
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun shiny day
.
I think I can make it now, the pain is gone
All of the bad feelings have disappeared
Here is the rainbow I've been prayin' for
.
.
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
Sun shiny day
.
Look all around, there's nothin' but blue skies
Look straight ahead, nothin' but blue skies
.
.
I can see clearly now, the rain is gone
I can see all obstacles in my way
.
.
Gone are the dark clouds that had me blind
It's gonna be a bright (bright), bright (bright)
.
.
Sun shiny day
.

as sung by ROBERTA FLACK