Before we do, though, I would like to point out the general blogging trend of ellipses in a post title. Weird, ya?
Anyways, I like Knights. I think they're pretty cool. When I was younger, I was determined to become the equivalent of a Lady Knight. Never mind the fact that the era of knights and seemingly noble quests ended long before my grandparents were even thinking about children. I was determined. I read book after book, one of my favorite being those written by Tamora Pierce (Protector of the Small series, though I like her other stuff too). I became a crusader for truth and justice. Going into high school, my one goal was to catch a senior picking on and innocent and defenseless freshman. Then, gently I would pull the victim out of harms way before engaging in a duel with the dastardly upperclassman. Fists flying, battle cry tearing through the air, and ninja-like precision and grace would aid my in my noble conquest. Then, the final echoes of our valiant struggle would settle, and my newfound friend and I would leave my villainous foe alone and utterly defeated.
Yeah. So, I liked knights. However, I am surprised at how confused I, along with so many others were and continue to be. I quickly discovered that these knight were not all I had once thought they were. They served for money or for name. Sure, some of them worked out of the goodness of their hearts, but it was not a wide spread trend. Listening to this riveting podcast, I find more and more discrepancies from these one time heroes.
But this isn't just limited to knights. What about vampires? If you look at it objectively, the entirety of the idea is thoroughly ridiculous. Which is not to say that I don't really really really like vampire stories (excluding that one which shall remain nameless. Hint: Vampires DO NOT sparkle...EVER). One of my classmates pointed out to me the parallels between the whole entranced by the vampire thing and a woman wanting to get raped. It shocked me a bit, but it was a good point.
I know nobody reads this, but what else do you think has been romanticized? For better or for worse?
Monday, October 25, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Hello My Lovlies
It's been a while, eh?
Well, the great beast that was midterms cast it's obnoxious shadow upon my free time. The wraith attacked and left me, inspirationless. Even if I had had time, I wouldn't have had anything to write. At least, nothing good. I mean, I don't know how much you want to read me ranting against the perils of Calculus II.
Speaking of Calculus II...
Explain to me exactly how one can study so much for a test, and do worse than when one doesn't study. I would love to know. So for now, I'll silently rail against Calculus and reconsider the course of my entire life.
Cool.
Funny, funny, who's got the funny?
I don't know. Wait! In my time of need my hallmates answered the call. Today, I will comment on a college student's capacity to stand a foot away from another person and still yell.
Two girls walk up to each other and proceed to converse, at 6 BILLION DECIBLES, about the price of rice in China. Meanwhile, a third and entirely unrelated girl sits in her room wondering why this must be discussed in HER doorway.
She could react in one of two-thousand ways, but I'm only going to tell you two.
1) She could ignore them.
2) She comes out, guns a'blazin, CHARGIN' HUR LAZR!!!!!
*ahem*
The choice is yours.
Well, the great beast that was midterms cast it's obnoxious shadow upon my free time. The wraith attacked and left me, inspirationless. Even if I had had time, I wouldn't have had anything to write. At least, nothing good. I mean, I don't know how much you want to read me ranting against the perils of Calculus II.
Speaking of Calculus II...
Explain to me exactly how one can study so much for a test, and do worse than when one doesn't study. I would love to know. So for now, I'll silently rail against Calculus and reconsider the course of my entire life.
Cool.
Funny, funny, who's got the funny?
I don't know. Wait! In my time of need my hallmates answered the call. Today, I will comment on a college student's capacity to stand a foot away from another person and still yell.
Two girls walk up to each other and proceed to converse, at 6 BILLION DECIBLES, about the price of rice in China. Meanwhile, a third and entirely unrelated girl sits in her room wondering why this must be discussed in HER doorway.
She could react in one of two-thousand ways, but I'm only going to tell you two.
1) She could ignore them.
2) She comes out, guns a'blazin, CHARGIN' HUR LAZR!!!!!
*ahem*
The choice is yours.
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Building Fences
Well, the title seems a lot more deep and meaningful than I'm sure I can capture in this message, but the aim of a writer is to translate those feelings, shared or singular, that others deem indescribable, incomparable, or something you just wouldn't understand.
I'll be honest. I wasn't all that excited about going to see Fences. Call me shallow or cold if you will, but I don't really like inspirational or deep things. I don't mean in general, but I don't like things that are so obviously geared toward moving you that the story is inundated by the writer's will to inspire you. I also don't like to cry. According to popular culture, crying is directly related to inspiration. I don't know. There must be some secret formula that producers have in their secret handbooks of all things theatrically secretive that shows the relationship between buckets of tears and amount of soul shattering internal revolution. The point is, I don't like the whole soggy bag of snot and tears so I do my best to avoid it. Hence, my aversion to potentially serious and/or moving plays.
This fact becomes even more ridiculous once I describe to you one of the main reasons I love theatre. I love theatre's capacity to make you feel. I'll bet a dollar half of us have never been seventeen years old in the 1960's, but that doesn't matter. Theatre will put you there, in the moment, right with the characters. If done right, everything outside of the world the actors and technicians have created for you, simply disappears. You may be nineteen years old and don;t give a flying flip about who's dating who and all the weaksauce romance sold like candy on modern day television. But in a theater, you call fall in love with Cyrano just as Roxane does. You may be the most stoic person you know, but watching someone die on stage can put it as close to you as if you were watching your own family die.
So, the mixture of not enjoying the mixture of feelings and going to a place that has the magic of giving life to a story and making you feel, whether you want to or not, is liable to make a person a little less than happy. Fortunately for me, academic compensation is enough to motivate me to get over myself.
My train of though has started doing tour jetes over in a corner somewhere. I'll have to complete this when the performance is over. Until then, go grab some popcorn and sulk about your state in life. Or, you know, you could just eat it. :)
I'll be honest. I wasn't all that excited about going to see Fences. Call me shallow or cold if you will, but I don't really like inspirational or deep things. I don't mean in general, but I don't like things that are so obviously geared toward moving you that the story is inundated by the writer's will to inspire you. I also don't like to cry. According to popular culture, crying is directly related to inspiration. I don't know. There must be some secret formula that producers have in their secret handbooks of all things theatrically secretive that shows the relationship between buckets of tears and amount of soul shattering internal revolution. The point is, I don't like the whole soggy bag of snot and tears so I do my best to avoid it. Hence, my aversion to potentially serious and/or moving plays.
This fact becomes even more ridiculous once I describe to you one of the main reasons I love theatre. I love theatre's capacity to make you feel. I'll bet a dollar half of us have never been seventeen years old in the 1960's, but that doesn't matter. Theatre will put you there, in the moment, right with the characters. If done right, everything outside of the world the actors and technicians have created for you, simply disappears. You may be nineteen years old and don;t give a flying flip about who's dating who and all the weaksauce romance sold like candy on modern day television. But in a theater, you call fall in love with Cyrano just as Roxane does. You may be the most stoic person you know, but watching someone die on stage can put it as close to you as if you were watching your own family die.
So, the mixture of not enjoying the mixture of feelings and going to a place that has the magic of giving life to a story and making you feel, whether you want to or not, is liable to make a person a little less than happy. Fortunately for me, academic compensation is enough to motivate me to get over myself.
My train of though has started doing tour jetes over in a corner somewhere. I'll have to complete this when the performance is over. Until then, go grab some popcorn and sulk about your state in life. Or, you know, you could just eat it. :)
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Death Rays
This is a Death Ray.
Pretty intense, right? I thought so too. They claim it was an accident, but I feel as though somebody had to have considered the possibility of this happening. It's all part of their master plan. To do what? I sure as heck don't know. But they're doing it.
Speaking of Death Rays, I haven't heard from Marvin the Martian in a long time. It seems like kids have lost their taste for good old fashioned, mindless slapstick comedy. Instead of teaching our youngin's to have pent up rage and needless aggression towards others, inevitably resulting in ultimate hilarity, we are telling them to worry about who likes who and what she said about him. What happened to the beauty of a good mid air epiphany before falling into a valley of death, then respawn? Instead, I find my eyes and ears assaulted with the latest trends and styles. I just don't get it. Once upon a time, characters like Tweety (I was so mad when I discovered he was a boy) and Jerry (of Tom and Jerry) were my heroes. Now they all waste their lives making googley eyes at their favorite actor, often 20-30 years older. That, my friend, is sick.
Maybe we should make a Death Ray to destroy modern television so that we're forced to reevaluate our goals and have to build from the golden years up. It's a thought.
Pretty intense, right? I thought so too. They claim it was an accident, but I feel as though somebody had to have considered the possibility of this happening. It's all part of their master plan. To do what? I sure as heck don't know. But they're doing it.
Speaking of Death Rays, I haven't heard from Marvin the Martian in a long time. It seems like kids have lost their taste for good old fashioned, mindless slapstick comedy. Instead of teaching our youngin's to have pent up rage and needless aggression towards others, inevitably resulting in ultimate hilarity, we are telling them to worry about who likes who and what she said about him. What happened to the beauty of a good mid air epiphany before falling into a valley of death, then respawn? Instead, I find my eyes and ears assaulted with the latest trends and styles. I just don't get it. Once upon a time, characters like Tweety (I was so mad when I discovered he was a boy) and Jerry (of Tom and Jerry) were my heroes. Now they all waste their lives making googley eyes at their favorite actor, often 20-30 years older. That, my friend, is sick.
Maybe we should make a Death Ray to destroy modern television so that we're forced to reevaluate our goals and have to build from the golden years up. It's a thought.
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