Friday, September 03, 2010
Mel-showers and Mel-sleep-ins. At the start of this year, my resolution was to have shorter showers. I have not succeeded very well. I try to just jump in the shower, perform my toilette tasks, then jump out again, but pretty much every day I will find myself just standing under the water, my thoughts drifting.
This is what I call a "Mel-shower" and when I catch myself having one (a key sign is my fingertips starting to shrivel and 'prune'), I sternly say, "No, don't have a Mel-shower, Mel!" or similar.
I have a similar bad habit with sleeping in. Since I work from home I can get away with rolling straight out of bed to my desk, and working in my pyjamas. Once upon a time I hated lazing about in my PJs and would make having a shower and getting dressed the very first thing I did every day. But now I can be found in my PJs at 2pm.
For years I've had three alarms on my phone: 7am, 8am and 8:55am. Once upon a time they signified: 1) Get out of bed; 2) Leave the house; 3) You have five minutes to get to work. Now they signify: 1) You should maybe get up now; 2) You should maybe get up now; 3) You should maybe get up now.
I am always hitting snooze again and again, and finally dragging myself out of bed at the absolute last minute. If I know I have a film screening at the Nova, those are the worst Mel-sleep-ins because I tell myself that I am allowed to stay in bed until 9:30am. Then I panic and leap out of bed at 9:50am. Luckily, it takes seven minutes to get to the Nova from my house.
The Mel-showers and the Mel-sleep-ins come from the same impulse, I think: to luxuriate in a warm, languorous state of suspension from the everyday. I shouldn't feel so guilty about this stuff, considering that I work day and night, including on weekends. Also, I have some pretty great dreams in the snoozy intervals between my alarms.
Today I had two. First I dreamed that I was nominated in the inaugural Mad Men Awards. Details are sketchy, but this was some kind of ceremony where they gave out awards for people who were really big Mad Men fans. It was hosted by Jon Hamm.
Everyone in the audience and all the nominees were all dressed in high Mad Men Style. My dream basically concerned the action backstage, where wardrobe, hair and makeup artists fussed over us, converting us into Mad Men Awards Nominees. I remember how chuffed I was to be on the inside of the show's world.
I feel kind of embarrassed relating this now. This dream says a lot about how much I love Mad Men, although I'm also relieved to have a second pop-cultural obsession to take the pressure off Terminator.
Meanwhile, my second dream says a lot about how much of a subconscious impact Inception has had on me, which is odd because consciously I can recognise that it's not as brilliant a film as it thinks it is. Anyway. In my dream, Julian Assange was locked in a high-security prison but he managed to bust out of the jail in a very exciting, action-packed and violent sequence.
He made his way to Melbourne Central, where on one of the upper levels he approached someone in a suit who seemed to be waiting for him. Gazing over the Shot Tower concourse far below, the stranger had his back to Assange. Hearing his approach, the stranger turned.
It was Leonardo DiCaprio. "Glad you could make it," he said to Assange. "I take it the escape went well."
"As well as could be expected," replied Assange.
At this point I woke up, but I had the feeling in the dream that this wasn't the first time the pair had met. Leonardo had made a similar escape from a similar prison to Assange. They were comrades in some intrigue-filled WikiLeaks plan that was only now reaching its second stage.
This is what I call a "Mel-shower" and when I catch myself having one (a key sign is my fingertips starting to shrivel and 'prune'), I sternly say, "No, don't have a Mel-shower, Mel!" or similar.
I have a similar bad habit with sleeping in. Since I work from home I can get away with rolling straight out of bed to my desk, and working in my pyjamas. Once upon a time I hated lazing about in my PJs and would make having a shower and getting dressed the very first thing I did every day. But now I can be found in my PJs at 2pm.
For years I've had three alarms on my phone: 7am, 8am and 8:55am. Once upon a time they signified: 1) Get out of bed; 2) Leave the house; 3) You have five minutes to get to work. Now they signify: 1) You should maybe get up now; 2) You should maybe get up now; 3) You should maybe get up now.
I am always hitting snooze again and again, and finally dragging myself out of bed at the absolute last minute. If I know I have a film screening at the Nova, those are the worst Mel-sleep-ins because I tell myself that I am allowed to stay in bed until 9:30am. Then I panic and leap out of bed at 9:50am. Luckily, it takes seven minutes to get to the Nova from my house.
The Mel-showers and the Mel-sleep-ins come from the same impulse, I think: to luxuriate in a warm, languorous state of suspension from the everyday. I shouldn't feel so guilty about this stuff, considering that I work day and night, including on weekends. Also, I have some pretty great dreams in the snoozy intervals between my alarms.
Today I had two. First I dreamed that I was nominated in the inaugural Mad Men Awards. Details are sketchy, but this was some kind of ceremony where they gave out awards for people who were really big Mad Men fans. It was hosted by Jon Hamm.
Everyone in the audience and all the nominees were all dressed in high Mad Men Style. My dream basically concerned the action backstage, where wardrobe, hair and makeup artists fussed over us, converting us into Mad Men Awards Nominees. I remember how chuffed I was to be on the inside of the show's world.
I feel kind of embarrassed relating this now. This dream says a lot about how much I love Mad Men, although I'm also relieved to have a second pop-cultural obsession to take the pressure off Terminator.
Meanwhile, my second dream says a lot about how much of a subconscious impact Inception has had on me, which is odd because consciously I can recognise that it's not as brilliant a film as it thinks it is. Anyway. In my dream, Julian Assange was locked in a high-security prison but he managed to bust out of the jail in a very exciting, action-packed and violent sequence.
He made his way to Melbourne Central, where on one of the upper levels he approached someone in a suit who seemed to be waiting for him. Gazing over the Shot Tower concourse far below, the stranger had his back to Assange. Hearing his approach, the stranger turned.
It was Leonardo DiCaprio. "Glad you could make it," he said to Assange. "I take it the escape went well."
"As well as could be expected," replied Assange.
At this point I woke up, but I had the feeling in the dream that this wasn't the first time the pair had met. Leonardo had made a similar escape from a similar prison to Assange. They were comrades in some intrigue-filled WikiLeaks plan that was only now reaching its second stage.
