This Last Year

So - um - today was my birthday. (And America's, if you were unaware.)

No deep post this time: I just had a really nice day, and, allowing some ups and downs, a pretty darn amazing year. Can I share some memories from the past 365 days? Just in snippets, as I wrote them down last night - made a bit clearer, for blogging's sake, though. 'Cause half of it would only make sense for someone living in my brain.
Starting from about now and going back towards last summer.

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Thank you, Lord, for the fantastic year. Thanks for Les Miserables, Jean Valjean, (and Jean-Valjean-cast-as-Tom-Hiddleston), Fantine, the lovely free audio recordings that have brought me so much joy - thanks for school, and my wonderful online courses. For soaking in knowledge. For sharpened pencil crayons and artwork.

For music. "Sail", Florence + the Machine, Keane, Paramore, YouTube, DW fanvids. Adele. Singing while washing dishes - home alone.

The Eleventh Doctor. Thanks for the times I had staring up at the stars - chilly nights and screenless windows. Frost and wind. Worlds in Time.

For "The God Complex", Dark!Doctor, and raspberries.

Knott's Berry Farm. California. Lying in hammocks in the heated evening - used bookstores, sandals, swimsuits, morning walks, Disney Channel, heavenly smells, windmills, choir.

For that community choir. That I didn't give up on it, even though I was in it for years and was tired. For bus trips. For hanging out after Christmas concerts. For ugly outfits, for mercifully easy choreography this year. For inside jokes. For almost passing out during the recording session. Scavenger hunts. Packed lunches. Laughter.

For safety. For Ernest Hemingway, frozen yoghurt, Robin Hood and Doctor Who. Great babysitting and tame kids. The Screwtape Letters.

Thanks also for conversations with friends. Classic Who. Blogging.

Thanks for that time I was new to DW. For community group and church. For Phineas and Ferb... for Bard on the Beach, BBC, in-mind recasting - series seven hype! My family.

Thanks for Sherlock, I nearly forgot. For Sinnerman, the Fall, "Come Undone" [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lR8jDQ_aUiY ], cliffhangers. "Jim Moriarty, hi!"

For HP8, and how could I forget the Hunger Games? Endless awesomeness.

The pure, otherworldly beauty of our vacation spot - rain - Jonsi [http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xOd9zWdH2dQ ], and Mockingjay. That new-book smell that was totally unique to the world of Panem.

Winnie the Pooh, road trips.

For phases, and memory, and vivid dreams. And vivid DW rewatches - "Flesh and Stone"!

And so many other things I'm forgetting. Whoa, my brain holds so much sensation.

Thank you.

Brave

The same theatre, the same less-than-stellar expectations, but I walked off with so much more from The Avengers than from Brave. So here's my blog post/review. (On a Saturday. I know. I'm terrible.)

So, how was Brave?
In short: it was alright. Gorgeous design, landscapes, and atmosphere. But to tell the truth, it was riddled with cliches. A princess (oh no) that doesn't like being ladylike (oh no) and is rejecting the suitors that her parents have arranged for her (oh no). She also likes to shoot arrows, because archery is awesome.
Wait, but have I not seen this a thousand times? Now, before Pixar, I'd never heard a story about superheros with family issues, or self centred cars, or the day jobs of the monsters that live in your closet, or a fish that has lost his son and will swim around the world to get him back, tailed by another fish that has short-term memory loss. I'd never even heard about a father and a grandfather who took the littlest in their family to sweep the stars on the moon! (referencing the beautiful little short, "La Luna", shown before the feature film).
But I do know about that princess who hated being ladylike and proved she was just as good as the boys, in the end.

Brave's plotline was slightly predictable, and though the film was lovely and I’m dead jealous of Merida’s hair, it wasn’t exactly the absolute brilliance and freshness that Pixar normally turns out, you know?

Sorry to say, but going with Celtic-y Scottish-y stories about square pegs in round holes that defy their destiny against a beautifully animated backdrop, Dreamworks did it far better two years ago with How To Train Your Dragon.

Still, I'm glad I saw it. With scenes that were genuinely a bit creepy, laugh-out-loud comedy, and art to die for, it wasn't for nothing. But what carries a movie is its character, and the fresh story they live.

And Merida wasn't brave enough to stray into uncharted storytelling land very often.

What Doctor Who Has Taught Me

So - I missed two blog posts. Yeah. *hangs head in shame* And with all the new lovely followers. On the subject of followers, new and old: guys, don't be shy, comments are one of my favourite things in the world. If any of you have something to say on the subjects of which I speak, I wanna know what you're thinking. Sometimes it feels like just me and Lostariel, lol. It's okay, though, I'm not pressuring anyone. It's all good! Really, it is.

What have I been doing? Well, on Wednesday, I started a blog post really late at night, but I made the mistake of starting to write about the Doctor Who episode "The Impossible Planet/The Satan Pit" at midnight. I hate to admit it, but I just creeped myself out, so I went to bed. And then on Friday, I was in Seattle with my dad. We went on a road trip.

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'Kay.

All rise for the subject of today's post.

Worth. Doctor Who, if it's taught me one thing, has taught me this.

Worth.

See, the theme of Doctor Who is this. No matter where you're from, no matter who you are, no matter how broken or average or useless or mean or ugly, you mean something, you are special, and you could save the world.

Ugh, there are so many thoughts crowding in my head, I can't think. The thing is, Doctor Who is a light. It's secular, it slips in its dirty jokes and its moralism, but in the end, Doctor Who has important messages and even more important themes running subconsciously through it.

Yes, totally subconsciously. It is impossible to believe in evolution and carry that worldview all the way through - it is. See, the Doctor claims to believe in evolution. But then he is a completely contradictory character: if evolution is true, then survival of the fittest is also a truth, and what is the Doctor doing saving people, defending the earth when it's too weak to defend itself? The Doctor is practicing something that stems from God and God alone: he is self-sacrificing, giving of himself to save weak human beings (when he is clearly part of a superior race). You can't deny that the Doctor lives out a worldview different than the one he claims. Not just different: directly opposed. There is no way a consistent believer in evolution could look at a little chid with dyslexia, and, instead of writing him off as a deficient quirk of nature when the kid admits this problem, bend down to his level, and say warmly, "Oh, that's okay, I can't make a decent meringue."

And in living this out, the Doctor has taught me worth.

That people are worth it, and that the monsters are worth it.

D'you ever just see someone - someone who's just doing nothing, not impacting anything in any visible way, sitting on their couch, doing their routine - and do you ever just feel contempt for them? Like they're not worth it? Like, "So, what are you doing for the world?" Of course, it's silly, because really, what difference am I making right now? But that was me - and is me. I tell you, though, it got so much less when the Doctor took my hand and showed me. Showed me that a temp worker can be the most important woman in the universe, that a medical student can rock the cosmos, that an unemployed teenager can make all the difference in the world.

"You don't have to own the universe, just see it."

The Doctor showed me, with that line, and with his life, that it's nice to be big and grand, but you don't have to own the universe. You can just be a normal person, just seeing it. That the "just seeing it" people are impacting things in their own way. That they're all made in the same image, and that is a Holy image.

"You and I both know, don't we Rose - the Doctor is worth the monsters."

Yes, he is, a thousand times, and so is life. Life is worth the monsters. And so we see written in the Bible. Romans 8:18 says "For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us." The darkness, it doesn't last, and it's pushing through it, resisting it, that brings the reward.

So, yes, that's what God has shown me through Doctor Who.

Sexism

No one can accuse me of being a girly-girl. I'm planning on getting the terrible pink of my walls covered in a nice coat of dark blue. My favourite show consists of a lot of blowing up stuff and food for the mind between alien attacks. Look at my name! I've only met one other girl "Micah". My hair is as short as a guy's, and I admit to getting excited over a Starwars Ultimate Guide today. I'm ambitious, and I don't think about anything in life being harder for me because I'm a girl - in fact, I absolutely hate it when people say girls are worse at something than boys, if the thing in question isn't physical.
Yeah, but.

France, 1789. A war is raging, ripping a country apart. The blood-soaked people fight under a banner  that bears an inspiring trio of words: "Liberty, equality, fraternity". But the people's push for that equality is tragic - thousands of innocents are slaughtered in the lust for it.
What are we losing in our grasp at equality?

Women aren't treated very well, are they? Anywhere. In the East you have them ground underfoot, in the West, you have them smudged out of existence.
No, seriously.
Chances to express ourselves, write, make art, discover math and science, to love, to make changes to the world, and to serve our God in huge ways - fantastic. Right, I love that.
Abandoning motherhood, starving our bodies into shapes as closely resembling men as possible - armed with disrespect, disregarding the knights who come to rescue us, because we're too in love with the tower. Laughing in the face of what chivalry they still offer.

All in the pursuit of equality.

Equality isn't sameness.

The culture is pushing women out of the mould they've always been in. Well and good? No. No, not really. Not at all, actually. Okay, I don't care if you like skateboarding and you're a girl. I don't care if you like to paint and you're a boy. It doesn't matter. But I do care if the women are leading their families. If they're not submitting to their husbands. If they're taking off and leaving their children to be raised by schools and daycares. If they're killing their babies - before and after the children are conceived - 'cause they want lifestyle.

Yeah, I'm for women's rights. Define women's rights. I want girls who can be girls, and not copies of men.

What about men? This makes me even angrier, believe it or not. Men are weakening. They can't lead anymore. They're not where they were meant to be. There are lovely guys who still do their part, but notice the trend, especially in television, where the weak, passive father is ruled by the disrespectful mother. And anything else is called sexism. Men don't even treat themselves right.

It makes me want to cry - so, girls have to be men and men have to be nothing, and that's the only thing that can be, because anything else isn't equality?
Misunderstanding of the word 'equality'.

I, for one, want a leader. I want to be a helper. I was made to be a helper. That doesn't mean I can't have dreams. But I was born a girl, and I want to be one.


{I do, of course, generalise. There are many exceptions, good and bad, to all stereotypes mentioned here.}

Stuff

So, I saw Macbeth. In our city, we have this lovely group who do Shakespeare in an outdoor tent environment. They have a proper stage and everything, but the back of the huge tent is open and the mountains and sea here serve as a backdrop. They're called Bard on the Beach.
It was pretty fantastic. However, the actors were yelling a lot of the time - I felt like it wasn't subtle enough. I blame this on a few things. One, the internet has turned me into a critic. Two, I have the most fantastic audio production of stories from Shakespeare ever. The actors are absolutely perfect and it all sounds so gorgeous. So I was expecting a lot. Three, I was repeating a lot of the lines over in my head, but executed by my dream cast for the play. Which is comprised of a lot of British, world-class actors. So what can you do? It was awesome, and I had a great time with my grandma, who treated me to it.
And we had sushi, which is heaven for the taste buds.
And of course, it was fantastic to be in the city.
Now I smell like sand, because of walking along the beach before the performance.
And I'm sunburned.
And earlier today I went boating with some good friends, and discussed writing, character development, and life questions, such as our opinions of BBC's Robin Hood and Whether "The God Complex" Is An Amazing Doctor Who Episode Or Not (which it is).
And presently I'm going to go mix and match the options of watching Doctor Who, writing, Tumbling too much, and drawing a poster for Macbeth starring a Doctor Who actor. God Willing, of course, because Tumblr might swallow all the time if I let it conquer me.
But it can't defeat my purposes until Birnam Wood comes to Dunsinane Hill.

There's my little update for today! Thanks for tuning in. This has been Silly Songs With Larry.

Harry Potter

Yeah, last summer was a traumatic time. Sobbing my eyes out - because Snape - I exited the theatre, plastic wand in hand. Mischief Managed. Over forever. And it really was that sad.
But then came Doctor Who. Sherlock. Loki. The Hunger Games. Fanfiction. Tumblr. Facebook.
And I figured that these things were just as good (if not better) than Harry Potter.
Yesterday, I re-watched Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire for the first time in many moons.

Guys, I was wrong.

Okay, Doctor Who, Sherlock, the Hunger Games, and Loki's movies have their goods and their bads, their strengths and their weaknesses. I'm sure there are places where they're all stronger than Harry Potter.
...right?
Eh, I can discuss that later. It'd take too long.

Anyway, besides the pure nostalgia that attacked me in waves of bittersweet beauty, I loved the movie because I've learned a lot about writing since I watched Harry Potter last. Or maybe it's that stepping back for a while has cleared my mind. But the thing that I was just gushing over for the length of the movie was the characterisation. I hadn't noticed it before, but -

JK Rowling, you blow my mind.

Well, I can't give out awards for the way the movie handled it, but the film woke up my memory of the book, and that floored me. Harry Potter is what it is not because of fascinatingly detailed setting. Not because of its brilliant school atmosphere.

Harry Potter is a series about characters.

The characters in Harry Potter are so human. All of them have unglamorous moments. They go to the ball with complete strangers because it is awkward to go alone. They get crushes that don't go anywhere, and disastrous dates to end those crushes. The best of friends fight. And all their flaws could be found in an everyday shopper at your local supermarket. It's so simple - and yet so effective. I sobbed at the end of a chapter in HP4 when Harry and Ron fight and don't talk to each other. So simple but so real.

JK Rowling, I think, treats the ones in her story as people, and not as characters, because they're real. Their flaws aren't cut and dried, or black and white. They're grey and blurred and everyone as insecure as we are. They could walk off the page, because they have as many bumps, bruises, embarrassing moments, disappointments, and zits as we do, as any teen does. They make rude jokes as they get older. They angst. No character's above this, too - Dumbledore is really brought down in the last book, with some shady past. Even the most trusted are mistrusted sometimes, and there's often just cause.

The bad guys have motivation, too. Snape isn't just this bat lurking around, because we find out that his acidity has a source. People get old. People die. Families yell at each other while guests stand by awkwardly. None of it feels misplaced, because no one is a Mary Sue, and everyone has things that don't work out for them.

And yet these people are called upon to do the extraordinary, and by their humanness, they show us that we can do it, too.

I wish to God - and that is by no means taking His name in vain - that I could write characters like JK Rowling can. 'Cause I haven't explained well enough, here, how well she does what she does.

In Which I Publicly Shame Myself And Use Too Many Gifs

Lostariel - Zoe (because somewhere deep down in me, that'll be your name forever ;) - I owe you a serious apology.
I'm re-reading my How to Train Your Dragon 2 fanfiction.

I think I might have to check myself into a hospital. How you still have a smidge of respect for me after reading that beats me. Oh, help. I can't even -

Look, I don't want to be one of those people who complains about their work when everyone else thinks it's great - and who do this because they secretly like the work and are looking for affirmation. I'm NOT doing that right now. I'm not going to utterly slam the thing - there were a couple of saveable moments and descriptions that filed under the 'okay' section. But I honestly have never, EVER read a fanfiction as utterly cheesy as that HTTYD one that is sitting under my profile name. No exaggeration.

Ah, Lostariel, I owe you a ton of my ability to actually write about people who are minimally in-character. Thank you for sticking with me through all those horror stories of mangled English.

Gosh, I can't believe I'm doing this, but, uh, I do want to make this post mildly entertaining for you guys, so I'll give you my least favourite part of the story. Because I'm insane. And, truth is, I do like making fun of bad writing. It's a pleasure similar to reading the Amazon.com reviews that detail why Twilight is not even worth the paper it takes to print.
I've never  been brave enough to actually share the crap I wrote, though.
When we're done, we'll pretend it never happened, 'kay?

To fully bring the terror of the situation to bear, I ask you all to remember to remember this cute and socially awkward kid, below right.

If you haven't seen him in his film, then you seriously need to. So sweet and touching. But Hiccup's certainly not capable of ever, in a million years, saying anything remotely close to this speech - and yes, he does indeed get eloquent enough to speak in third person:

[telling his girlfriend about his true heritage (as if that wasn't cliche enough)]
"Astrid, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third is a half-breed hybrid infused with enemy blood. he's your nightmares come to life in one of your friends. He's going to battle with his relatives. He's stained and corrupted by the royal line of Thornburg. Kenna Nadderslayer is his flesh and blood, his cousin, and Peaeye Nadderslayer is his uncle, his mother's brother.
Why did Toothless choose me, when I was so filthy? Why was I destined to be the Dragon-Viking peacemaker when my family so freely sheds the blood of each of these races? I don't know. But even if you never care for me again, and try to forget about me as soon as I leave you, don't tell anyone else of my heritage. But if you choose to abandon me, do so, and I'll harbour no ill feelings toward you - I hate the Thornburgians as much as you do."
I looked at her.
She was trembling, and a tear shivered on her eyelash, about to fall.
She looked down, and traced something in the ground with her finger.
"So, do you hate me to your bones, Astrid Hofferson?" I asked softly.
She looked up at me, shaking her head slowly. "You can doubt that the stars are fire! You can doubt that the sun movess! You can even beleive truth itself to be a liar! But there's one thing you should never doubt, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the third."
[kissing ensues]

Oh my Rassilon - Shakespeare. What was I doing, writing Hamlet into a headstrong, self-driven girl?

This freaking used to be my favourite part.

#physically ill