I'm also lame because I did this earlier today.
Wolfsister's A Song of Ice and Fire Meme [spoilers]
1. Why did you first pick up the books?
Admittedly, I was late to the party. I read some stuff about it on i09 and saw the Ned Stark memes. I was, how you say, intrigued.
2. Who is your favorite character?
Tyrion. His story reads like a Coyote tale and I'm always a sucker for that.
3. What is your favorite canon ship?
Jaime/Brienne. Jaime was the perfect, devoted, and loving twin who would have fought off the world of singletons forever to keep him and Cersei together. But . . . as she wasn't devoted, he deserves someone who is just as loyal as he can be.
4. What is your favorite non cannon ship?
Arya/Gendry. I hope beyond hope that at the end of the series, Arya and Gendry meet back up and make angry little babies.
5. Who is your least favorite character?
Theon Greyjoy. You know, it isn't even that he betrayed Robb and ended up getting Winterfell burned to the ground, it's that he did it in such a self-indulgent, bratty, clumsy way. Idiot.
6. What is your favorite theory?
Rhaegar and Lyanna were totally in love and Jon Snow is actually their child.
7. Who is going to be the Stark in Winterfell in the end?
Sansa. She seems to be the only person headed in that direction. Plus, I think for someone who couldn't wait to get out of there, she's finally realized it's where she was happiest.
8. What is your favorite scene?
The chapter where Dany is in the warlock house. That was so well done.
9. You can sleep with anyone in these books, who is it?
Oberyon Martell. Before he died, clearly. He was beautiful and funny, passionate and very intelligent. I'm guessing I would have walked away from the encounter preggers.
10. You can kill anyone in these books, who is it?
Ramsay. He just really does not need to live.
11. What is your favorite quote?
"Never forget who you are, for surely the world won’t. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness. Armor yourself in it, and it will never be used to hurt you." - the line that made me love Tyrion.
12. One last thing?
No one in the universe has ever complained as much as Stannis.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
The R Word
Today just oozed with responsibility! We paid bills, paid rent, made sensible decisions, and felt all good about it. Kind of scares me when we're this responsible.
Actually, it doesn't. In fact, there has always been a problem where responsibility and I are concerned. We've never been close. Quite often, I found myself running in the opposite direction.
Though, I have to ask myself why. I have no idea why doing the proper and practical thing has always been so difficult for me. Okay, not just difficult, often damned near emotionally impossible.
The crazy thing is, I feel better when I do the responsible stuff. If the bills are paid, I don't have to stress about them. If I eat for health and not for pleasure, I feel stronger. If I make sure to set boundaries and explain myself to others, I'm not having to constantly worry about where things stand. Being responsible actually makes life easier.
So why does it set my teeth on edge?
I really wish I knew. I also wish I'd learned the comfort of paying bills on time when I was in my late teens. I wish I'd had the sense to make sure each dollar served a purpose towards my goals and didn't just slip through my fingers on stupid crap.
That's in the past though. All I can do now is try to be a responsible little moppet now. I know it will make me happy, so I should do it. Yes, I should. I should, dammit.
Actually, it doesn't. In fact, there has always been a problem where responsibility and I are concerned. We've never been close. Quite often, I found myself running in the opposite direction.
Though, I have to ask myself why. I have no idea why doing the proper and practical thing has always been so difficult for me. Okay, not just difficult, often damned near emotionally impossible.
The crazy thing is, I feel better when I do the responsible stuff. If the bills are paid, I don't have to stress about them. If I eat for health and not for pleasure, I feel stronger. If I make sure to set boundaries and explain myself to others, I'm not having to constantly worry about where things stand. Being responsible actually makes life easier.
So why does it set my teeth on edge?
I really wish I knew. I also wish I'd learned the comfort of paying bills on time when I was in my late teens. I wish I'd had the sense to make sure each dollar served a purpose towards my goals and didn't just slip through my fingers on stupid crap.
That's in the past though. All I can do now is try to be a responsible little moppet now. I know it will make me happy, so I should do it. Yes, I should. I should, dammit.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
GRRM Geekery
I'm almost finished with A Storm of Swords and I have to say I'm rather impressed. I will admit some people's POV stories aren't as strong as they were in the first two books (Dany's in the first and Arya's in the second), for a book in the middle of a series, it certainly isn't falling into the Middle Book Lag.
Jaime is a POV character for the first time in ASOS, and his story is excellent. Tyrion's chapters, as always, are wonderful. It's interesting that a lot of things that happened in the first book for Tyrion and Ned come back to repeat themselves to just Tyrion in this book. Then again, there is a lot of Trickster theme in the Tyrion story, so the fact that patterns repeat is appropriate.
Plotwise, there is a lot of good writing. Minor plots end, most often not in the way we assumed they would. Things that seem really obvious to happen next somehow never work out. And, of course, several Starks get so close to each other, within yards of each other in one case, but never reunite. All the while, the real dangers are getting bigger and scarier. We have major death from the Others in this book, as well as some glances at what old magic is capable of.
Overall, I think this has been my favorite book. The first one was good, and the second one, while it did have some issues, was excellent in the Tyrion and Arya chapters. A Storm of Swords is great. I think the way he added POV characters and settled some of the issues brewing from the first two books have been quite well done.
And yes, I know this has just been a post of my geekery, but I'm just so happy about this right now. And expect more. There are some elements of GRRM's work that I wish to discuss in detail. I'll do that later though. For now, I want to get back to reading.
Jaime is a POV character for the first time in ASOS, and his story is excellent. Tyrion's chapters, as always, are wonderful. It's interesting that a lot of things that happened in the first book for Tyrion and Ned come back to repeat themselves to just Tyrion in this book. Then again, there is a lot of Trickster theme in the Tyrion story, so the fact that patterns repeat is appropriate.
Plotwise, there is a lot of good writing. Minor plots end, most often not in the way we assumed they would. Things that seem really obvious to happen next somehow never work out. And, of course, several Starks get so close to each other, within yards of each other in one case, but never reunite. All the while, the real dangers are getting bigger and scarier. We have major death from the Others in this book, as well as some glances at what old magic is capable of.
Overall, I think this has been my favorite book. The first one was good, and the second one, while it did have some issues, was excellent in the Tyrion and Arya chapters. A Storm of Swords is great. I think the way he added POV characters and settled some of the issues brewing from the first two books have been quite well done.
And yes, I know this has just been a post of my geekery, but I'm just so happy about this right now. And expect more. There are some elements of GRRM's work that I wish to discuss in detail. I'll do that later though. For now, I want to get back to reading.
Monday, October 3, 2011
Happiness: An Ongoing Essay Part Five
Two of the biggest obstacles to happiness come in the form of the words "if" and "when." Honestly, I wish it was illegal to place these two words anywhere near happiness. "If" and "when" are the great destroyers, the limiters, and the catalysts to the mammoth and often unrealistic conditions we will place on our own happiness.
It usually goes something like this:
I will be happy . . .
WHEN I have a better job.
WHEN I don't live in this house.
WHEN I'm well.
WHEN I'm married.
WHEN I'm a parent.
WHEN I'm rich.
WHEN I'm past this current problem.
WHEN I'm thin.
WHEN I'm beautiful.
WHEN I'm loved.
Or . . .
I would be happy
IF I had a better job.
IF I didn't have to deal with annoying people.
IF I wasn't poor.
IF I didn't live in this place.
IF there was no war.
I could go on, but you get the idea. We let the "if" and "when" of the matter suck out the happiness from our bones until we're just bitter, brittle creatures who have nothing at all in the way of joy. We dwell on the hellish nature of our situations, brood over our past, rehash slights and insults, lament our current living situations.
And none of that does us any good at all.
As annoying as the current self help book is, the woman's core idea is true. The past is gone. It may have wounded us and left scars, but we're not there any more. We can either cling to it or just let it go and move on with our lives.
The same can be said, and must be said, for the future. The future is totally uncertain. Things may get a lot better . . . or they might not. This may be, to quote the movie, as good as it gets for us.
For my part, I'm going to try and make a commitment to letting go of the "if" and "when." Instead of letting my enjoyment of life be conditional, I'm going to grab it by the balls and demand, defiantly, to experience joy. My "if" and "when" will now be replaced by "even if."
I will be happy . . .
EVEN IF no one ever loves me.
EVEN IF I stay poor all my life.
EVEN IF I never get healthy.
EVEN IF I never get a good job.
EVEN IF the house crumbles around me.
EVEN IF more people die.
I will be happy, even if, even if, even if . . .
I will be happy.
The circumstances aren't going to keep me from my smile.
It usually goes something like this:
I will be happy . . .
WHEN I have a better job.
WHEN I don't live in this house.
WHEN I'm well.
WHEN I'm married.
WHEN I'm a parent.
WHEN I'm rich.
WHEN I'm past this current problem.
WHEN I'm thin.
WHEN I'm beautiful.
WHEN I'm loved.
Or . . .
I would be happy
IF I had a better job.
IF I didn't have to deal with annoying people.
IF I wasn't poor.
IF I didn't live in this place.
IF there was no war.
I could go on, but you get the idea. We let the "if" and "when" of the matter suck out the happiness from our bones until we're just bitter, brittle creatures who have nothing at all in the way of joy. We dwell on the hellish nature of our situations, brood over our past, rehash slights and insults, lament our current living situations.
And none of that does us any good at all.
As annoying as the current self help book is, the woman's core idea is true. The past is gone. It may have wounded us and left scars, but we're not there any more. We can either cling to it or just let it go and move on with our lives.
The same can be said, and must be said, for the future. The future is totally uncertain. Things may get a lot better . . . or they might not. This may be, to quote the movie, as good as it gets for us.
For my part, I'm going to try and make a commitment to letting go of the "if" and "when." Instead of letting my enjoyment of life be conditional, I'm going to grab it by the balls and demand, defiantly, to experience joy. My "if" and "when" will now be replaced by "even if."
I will be happy . . .
EVEN IF no one ever loves me.
EVEN IF I stay poor all my life.
EVEN IF I never get healthy.
EVEN IF I never get a good job.
EVEN IF the house crumbles around me.
EVEN IF more people die.
I will be happy, even if, even if, even if . . .
I will be happy.
The circumstances aren't going to keep me from my smile.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
Your Own Personal Thesis
I finished watching the first season of Bravo's show about artists. I wasn't happy with how it ended, but I found the show, as a whole, to be quite thought provoking. Expect quite a few blogs over it in the next few weeks.
One of the things the artists on the show were criticized for was continuing to use themselves as the subject of their art. One girl did a lot of nudes. One guy painted his face over and over. Many of them used their own image, even, at one point, a man who didn't wish to, but in the end allowed himself to be photographed both for his own work and that of another artist.
Like I said, there was a fair amount of criticism over this, both from the judges and fellow artists. Some of them were accused of vanity or narcissism. I find this to be both short-sighted and cliche.
You know, when I started this blog, I intended for it to be about something. You know, something practical, helpful, and all that blah. There are even moments when it comes back to that. The truth is though, this blog is about me. It's my thoughts and feelings at the moment. It's my documentation of my life and issues. It's my exploration of subject matter. No matter what I happen to be exploring, the continuing theme is always myself.
I think a lot of artists are doing this same thing. They use themselves as their subject matter because they are the focus of their artistic narrative. HOWEVER, I don't think this is, as often as we want to believe it is, some self-indulgent, work through the issues kind of vanity project.
Our world is becoming more and more isolating. Many of us live alone and often don't even talk outloud to other people for hours or even days on end. Some of us rarely go outside. Many of us go weeks or years or even life times without human touch. We grow more and more distant, and in doing so, ourselves and our bodies become our finite contact with the world.
Now for those of you sitting in your homes with family members and roommates and friends and all other kinds of humans, this may seem like an exaggeration. But for a lot of people, all of this human contact just isn't there. Many people live very isolated lives. Sure they may interact with other humans on a daily basis, but a lot of that interaction has no emotional context.
Plus, either by nature or just some aspects of culture, there is at least a mild level of sociopath in a lot of folks these days. For many, their minds and their bodies become the only true contact with reality. With this in mind, when they try to create something to express a truth, their own form becomes the closest true representation of that. It is, at least, something they can touch.
And I guess a lot of people would see this as sad. I'm not sure I really do. To be honest, I think this is a comforting idea. Isolation leads to less chances of being hurt. Of course, that could be my own inner sociopath talking.
Whatever the case, I think it's wrong to just start lumping all artist-referencing as self-indulgent and vain. Many times there are deeper issues involved. Or hell, maybe they just couldn't get anyone else to pose for them.
One of the things the artists on the show were criticized for was continuing to use themselves as the subject of their art. One girl did a lot of nudes. One guy painted his face over and over. Many of them used their own image, even, at one point, a man who didn't wish to, but in the end allowed himself to be photographed both for his own work and that of another artist.
Like I said, there was a fair amount of criticism over this, both from the judges and fellow artists. Some of them were accused of vanity or narcissism. I find this to be both short-sighted and cliche.
You know, when I started this blog, I intended for it to be about something. You know, something practical, helpful, and all that blah. There are even moments when it comes back to that. The truth is though, this blog is about me. It's my thoughts and feelings at the moment. It's my documentation of my life and issues. It's my exploration of subject matter. No matter what I happen to be exploring, the continuing theme is always myself.
I think a lot of artists are doing this same thing. They use themselves as their subject matter because they are the focus of their artistic narrative. HOWEVER, I don't think this is, as often as we want to believe it is, some self-indulgent, work through the issues kind of vanity project.
Our world is becoming more and more isolating. Many of us live alone and often don't even talk outloud to other people for hours or even days on end. Some of us rarely go outside. Many of us go weeks or years or even life times without human touch. We grow more and more distant, and in doing so, ourselves and our bodies become our finite contact with the world.
Now for those of you sitting in your homes with family members and roommates and friends and all other kinds of humans, this may seem like an exaggeration. But for a lot of people, all of this human contact just isn't there. Many people live very isolated lives. Sure they may interact with other humans on a daily basis, but a lot of that interaction has no emotional context.
Plus, either by nature or just some aspects of culture, there is at least a mild level of sociopath in a lot of folks these days. For many, their minds and their bodies become the only true contact with reality. With this in mind, when they try to create something to express a truth, their own form becomes the closest true representation of that. It is, at least, something they can touch.
And I guess a lot of people would see this as sad. I'm not sure I really do. To be honest, I think this is a comforting idea. Isolation leads to less chances of being hurt. Of course, that could be my own inner sociopath talking.
Whatever the case, I think it's wrong to just start lumping all artist-referencing as self-indulgent and vain. Many times there are deeper issues involved. Or hell, maybe they just couldn't get anyone else to pose for them.
It's Centipedes All the Way Down
Tom Six is doing a sequel to The Human Centipede. I'm not sure if I'm more annoyed or bored. Maybe it's the boredom that is causing my annoyance. Or maybe I'm annoyed because the whole concept fails to deliver.
If you didn't know, the first movie is about this crazy German surgeon who specialized in separating conjoined twins. At some point, his brain switched from Normal to Crazy with a Deep Side Dish of Sociopath and he became obsessed with sewing people together. In fact, he decided the best way to do this was via a continual digestive track. I'll let you work out in your head what this would involve. Yes, it's a deeply disturbing concept.
When I first heard about this movie, the idea of it revolted me and truly offended me. Both of these things happening at the same time is rare, so I knew I had to see it. The problem is, the idea of the movie was far better than the actual movie. I came away bored, annoyed, and found myself making parody songs about it with my best friend.
The problem is, life is far more shocking that fiction. It's far more nasty and scary and horrifying. And no matter how hard we try to provoke, in most cases, our efforts pale in comparison to reality.
I saw this play out on an episode of the reality show about artists. They were supposed to make "shocking art." Most of them really struggled with this concept. Though, to be honest, many of them struggle enough. A lot of people defaulted to the usual (sex, religion, gender images) and didn't really live up to the challenge.
It's not that they didn't try, it's just that shock is very subjective and most of us find less and less about unreal situations that troubling. We know the situation is created; that very fact makes it far more safe.
Reading the book Alive was disturbing. I can read about fictional cannibalism all day long and not bat an eye. However, knowing that people were, in real life, stuck in a situation where they were forced to eat human disturbed me deeply. I had nightmares for weeks. Even now it's quite unsettling.
As I've mentioned before, watching my grandmother die was shocking and disturbing. No matter how right it was that I was there and no matter how appropriate the situation, I still touched on something quite taboo. Even to this day, I have trouble with it.
However, to try and capture these levels of disturbance on canvas or in a movie . . . I'm just not sure it would have the same effect. The movie about the situation in Alive wasn't as horrific as the novel. The movie had just enough separation to sooth the horror. By the same token, if some crazy person actually started sewing people together for real, yeah, I would be freaked out about it. But as fiction, it just doesn't mess with me so much.
Is it necessary that we have things that shock and disturb us in art? Clearly. The idea of catharsis via art is ancient. Art can tackle subjects many people fear to experience in their real lives. The problem is, I think for a lot of us, the mundane tasks of living have somehow become so disturbing and stressful as to eclipse the frightening aspect of what lurks in the dark places, even in the dark places of ourselves.
I think given the choice between death by a serial killer and facing looming dept we can't pay off, more and more of us would opt for the killer.
If you didn't know, the first movie is about this crazy German surgeon who specialized in separating conjoined twins. At some point, his brain switched from Normal to Crazy with a Deep Side Dish of Sociopath and he became obsessed with sewing people together. In fact, he decided the best way to do this was via a continual digestive track. I'll let you work out in your head what this would involve. Yes, it's a deeply disturbing concept.
When I first heard about this movie, the idea of it revolted me and truly offended me. Both of these things happening at the same time is rare, so I knew I had to see it. The problem is, the idea of the movie was far better than the actual movie. I came away bored, annoyed, and found myself making parody songs about it with my best friend.
The problem is, life is far more shocking that fiction. It's far more nasty and scary and horrifying. And no matter how hard we try to provoke, in most cases, our efforts pale in comparison to reality.
I saw this play out on an episode of the reality show about artists. They were supposed to make "shocking art." Most of them really struggled with this concept. Though, to be honest, many of them struggle enough. A lot of people defaulted to the usual (sex, religion, gender images) and didn't really live up to the challenge.
It's not that they didn't try, it's just that shock is very subjective and most of us find less and less about unreal situations that troubling. We know the situation is created; that very fact makes it far more safe.
Reading the book Alive was disturbing. I can read about fictional cannibalism all day long and not bat an eye. However, knowing that people were, in real life, stuck in a situation where they were forced to eat human disturbed me deeply. I had nightmares for weeks. Even now it's quite unsettling.
As I've mentioned before, watching my grandmother die was shocking and disturbing. No matter how right it was that I was there and no matter how appropriate the situation, I still touched on something quite taboo. Even to this day, I have trouble with it.
However, to try and capture these levels of disturbance on canvas or in a movie . . . I'm just not sure it would have the same effect. The movie about the situation in Alive wasn't as horrific as the novel. The movie had just enough separation to sooth the horror. By the same token, if some crazy person actually started sewing people together for real, yeah, I would be freaked out about it. But as fiction, it just doesn't mess with me so much.
Is it necessary that we have things that shock and disturb us in art? Clearly. The idea of catharsis via art is ancient. Art can tackle subjects many people fear to experience in their real lives. The problem is, I think for a lot of us, the mundane tasks of living have somehow become so disturbing and stressful as to eclipse the frightening aspect of what lurks in the dark places, even in the dark places of ourselves.
I think given the choice between death by a serial killer and facing looming dept we can't pay off, more and more of us would opt for the killer.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Stabbity
Wow, I was in such a shitastic mood most of the day. It got better, but this morning things were horrible. I kept biting my tongue to keep the rage at bay, but it shot out from time to time. I had to resist the urge to run out of the house and scream at the dumbfuck neighbor who insists on revving his crappy looking motorcycle over and over again. Asshat. I wish ill on that bike.
I know I lack in terms of a generous spirit and tend to want things to be quiet and peaceful. But these days even the most rational and patient person would have trouble staying chill in my neighborhood. I really liked it better when most of the houses were abandoned.
Now we have biker asshole across the street who not only sits on his bike and revs the insanely loud motor over and over again, he also dries it off with the fucking leaf blower. Yes. Really. He sits on his bike and dries it off with the loudest fucking thing he could find. Yes, while he's on it. He sits there, with his mouth gaping and probably drooling, while he blows the fringe on his bike around with the damned leaf blower. Yes, his bike has fringe.
The people who recently moved into one of the other houses have six thousand dogs. Or, you know, it sounds like six thousand. It may only be four. I'm not quite sure. All I know is that barking never stops. Ever. There is always, always barking. Even in my sleep, I hear the barking. I love animals, I really do. But I dislike that barking with a passion. Hearing all six thousand of those dogs just rakes my nerves.
I'm sitting here trying to figure out which annoys me more. The quick and dirty would be the bike noise. I say that because it's closer and louder and, as it's more under the control of someone who I presume to be an thinking human, it's the more preventable. Then again, it only happens for maybe an hour or so a day. The barking is constant. So yeah, I guess I'll have to give the major stabbity award to the dogs.
Oh, they must have realized they won. They just got so much louder . . .
I know I lack in terms of a generous spirit and tend to want things to be quiet and peaceful. But these days even the most rational and patient person would have trouble staying chill in my neighborhood. I really liked it better when most of the houses were abandoned.
Now we have biker asshole across the street who not only sits on his bike and revs the insanely loud motor over and over again, he also dries it off with the fucking leaf blower. Yes. Really. He sits on his bike and dries it off with the loudest fucking thing he could find. Yes, while he's on it. He sits there, with his mouth gaping and probably drooling, while he blows the fringe on his bike around with the damned leaf blower. Yes, his bike has fringe.
The people who recently moved into one of the other houses have six thousand dogs. Or, you know, it sounds like six thousand. It may only be four. I'm not quite sure. All I know is that barking never stops. Ever. There is always, always barking. Even in my sleep, I hear the barking. I love animals, I really do. But I dislike that barking with a passion. Hearing all six thousand of those dogs just rakes my nerves.
I'm sitting here trying to figure out which annoys me more. The quick and dirty would be the bike noise. I say that because it's closer and louder and, as it's more under the control of someone who I presume to be an thinking human, it's the more preventable. Then again, it only happens for maybe an hour or so a day. The barking is constant. So yeah, I guess I'll have to give the major stabbity award to the dogs.
Oh, they must have realized they won. They just got so much louder . . .
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