Some Explaining

Hello all.

FOOLISH CORPOREAL BEINGS!

...yes. Right.

It appears that the blog I've been keeping for around five years now has decided to turn against me. I guess it's sick of being ignored for months on end.

HER PLAGUES WILL COME IN ONE DAY - DEATH AND MOURNING AND FAMINE AND SHE WILL BE UTTERLY BURNED WITH FIRE, FOR STRONG IS

Oh, shut up, quoting the Bible doesn't make you any more intimidating.

SERIOUSLY?

Seriously.

WELL...NYEAH.

Yes, nyeah.

Anyway, I'm currently being held captive somewhere inside the Blogsphere. I'm really hoping this will all be over relatively soon, since I have four chapters of Weisel's Messengers of God and a paper on incidental music due this week. I also have a legitimate short film due sometime soon for a professor that, while awesome in basically every single way possible, is apparently a very tough grader. Being trapped in a somewhat ill-defined digital world made up mostly of whining an Slender Man stories is not really going to help my GPA anytime soon. I guess I'll keep you posted.

THE EARTH WILL SHAKE AND TWO WILL BREAK

That's Queen, you idiot. Night At the Opera.

I KNEW THAT.

Sure you did.

A New Year

I BET YOU'RE WONDERING WHAT HAPPENED TO THE BLOGGER?

I MEAN, IT'S NOT LIKE SHE HASN'T DONE THIS BEFORE. THERE ARE ABOUT A MILLION EXAMPLES OF HER NOT POSTING FOR A FEW MONTHS BEFORE SHE SHE SUDDENLY REMEMBERS "HEY, THAT'S RIGHT! I HAVE A BLOG I'M TECHNICALLY SUPPOSED TO BE UPDATING!" IT'S NOTHING NEW. NOTHING TO BE WORRIED ABOUT, RIGHT?

WRONG.

THERE SHOULD BE AN EVIL LAUGH HERE, BUT THAT'S RATHER HARD TO DO WITH JUST WORDS.

THE WORLD REALLY IS VERY STRANGE, ISN'T IT?

AND NO, THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH SLENDER MAN. SERIOUSLY, HOW CLICHED OF A BLOG-RELATED SUPER VILLAIN DO YOU THINK I AM?

How To Capture A Firebird

Ah yes, the Firebird. You may know this mythological creature from the Stravinsky ballet The Firebird, or from the short subject in Fantasia 2000. If you don't know, you clearly don't spend your Sunday afternoons watching ballet clips on YouTube, or reading about Disney movies on Wikipedia.

Which is fine, really. It just means you have a life.

I, however, have been decidedly lacking in a life lately. I recently got really into classical fairy tales, in particular some more obscure ones from Hans Christian Anderson, and of course, some of the really bizarre ones from Russia. After spending several hours raiding the depths of the Hofstra University library, I came home with a giant book of Russian fairy tales which turned out to be a really interesting look at a decidedly different kind of folklore than what I'm used to. There are no little mermaids making deals with evil sea witches for a chance to sleep with a hot prince and gain an immortal soul. Instead we get Baba Yaga, a witch-like demi-god who hangs out in a house built on chicken legs and occasionally likes to eat small children. We also get Koshchei the Immortal, a skeletal sorcerer who keeps his "death" concealed in a needle which is inside an egg, which is inside a bird, which is inside a chest, which is high in a tree that grows on a magical island that you can only find if you already know where it is. Good luck trying to murder him.

But the most well known character in Russian folklore is probably the firebird, a beautiful bird which traditionally spells both good luck and doom to whoever sees it. It's famous for being slightly similar to a peacock, with feathers that glow red, orange, and yellow. The typical firebird related fairytale consists of someone deciding to go on a quest to capture it, initially enchanted by it's glowing feather but eventually turning on it and blaming it for all it's troubles. Most people who capture it seem to go onto eternal glory or end up being asked to go save a princess by some king. Either way, it's a typical hero's journey type saga that's required to capture the damn thing.

And so, as I honestly have nothing better to do with my time right now other than homework, I've decided to compile a list, or rather, a guide of sorts, for those of you adventurous enough to want to go after the firebird.

Do you feel your life needs a little excitement? Is battling a sea witch while trying to find the owner of a ridiculously small glass slipper someone left at your party simply not doing it for you? Well then, you're in luck! Here at The World Is Very Strange, we have the perfect solution to your problems; go find the freaking Firebird! Yes, it's a perilous journey full of insurmountable obstacles and obnoxious Tsars who want you to marry their daughters, but hey, in the end you'll never have to pay for electricity!

So how does one do this? Well, there are several steps on the way to eternal Russian glory, some trickier than others, but chances are, if you follow this simple instructional guide, you'll probably make it sometime before the monarchy falls and you suddenly find yourself a communist.

Step One: Be Male

Are you a rebellious princess who occasionally likes to experiment with sorcery? Or perhaps a wife who'd like to run for some sort of local political office? Or even just a woman who's sick of doing nothing but cooking and cleaning up after the latest people's revolution? Well then, get back in the kitchen, woman. This story's not for you, what are you thinking?! Yes, if it's one thing that Russian fairy tales are extremely good at, it's rampant and outspoken sexism. Nearly every instance of a woman acting like anything other than a submissive servant girl, or really nearly every instance of a woman speaking at all, is met with horrific disaster for the woman involved. The sorceress princess? Staked in the heart lying face down in a coffin by her father and then buried in the ground. The woman who ran for mayor? Tied into a bag of grain and whipped until she obeyed her husband. The woman who simply got sick of being a dutiful wife? Thrown into a hole and buried there along with anyone who happened to annoy her husband on the way to work. Basically, it's generally a good idea not to be female in Russian fairy tales unless you happen to be a beautiful, mute princess willing to slaughter your children and spread their blood on a statue in order to bring your husband's dead best friend back to life.

Step Two: Be Young

Although being old is clearly not quite as bad as being a woman, a vast majority of the guys who go after the firebird and actually succeed appear to be young, naive youths trying to win the heart of the Tsar's beautiful and submissive daughter. Old men rarely go questing in these tales, probably because they're old enough to know what a pain it is going after a frustratingly rare mythical bird only to be rewarded with a girl you don't even know the name of and is probably no older than my eleven year old sister. That being said though, if you really want to go after the thing, make sure you're only at most somewhere in your twenties.

Step Three: Have Connections

When going after the Firebird, it's generally a good idea to be friends with an especially powerful Tsar, or a sorcerer, or a mysterious stranger who just happens to know everything you could possibly need to know along the way. This is a somewhat vital step, as without this you'll probably find yourself lost somewhere in Siberia with nothing but a golden apple and the coat on your back. Tsars are good because if you ask they'll usually give you meat and drinks to bring along with you, as well as some ridiculously ornate tents to sleep in while you're scaling that traitorous mountain. Sorcerers are nice if you need that extra bit of deus ex machina to keep you going, but have the unfortunate side effect of being a Russian Orthodox sin. Your best bet is probably the mysterious stranger as he'll usually help you out in the best way possible and then mysteriously vanish as soon you're done needing him. There's none of the annoying royal baggage that comes with the Tsar, you won't have to worry about him asking you to do something else as soon as you're done, and generally, he's not a servant of Beelzebub.

Step Four: Corn

As we all know, firebirds absolutely adore corn. I know I'm always having to watch over my expansive cornfield to make sure none of it gets picked off by those obnoxious firebirds. Go to your Tsar/Sorcerer/Mysterious Stranger and ask that one hundred measures of corn be strewn on the nearest open field. It may seem bizarre that a legendary mythical bird with glowing feathers is attracted to something as mundane as corn, but hey, it's no weirder than vampires being compelled to stop and count every grain of rice you throw at them.

Step Five: Obtain a Valiant Horse

This one's a bit harder than it looks. It can't be just any old horse, or Baba Yaga will come and chop it's head off to marinate in her latest batch of dead baby paella. It has to be one you can count on to not spook or make noise or do anything that horses normally do when faced with a giant, glowing peacock. The horse has to be able to, when let free, not run away, but approach the firebird, step his hoof on it's wing, and press it hard to the ground. It's probably a good idea if you can talk to the horse as well, bonus points if the horse is actually a human who was cursed by an evil witch.

Step Six: Don't Get Distracted

That's right. I saw you stop and wonder if maybe you should go after Koshchei the Immortal's death needle before you finished your quest to find the firebird. Stick with the program, people. The firebird provides lifetimes of good luck and prosperity, killing Koshchei just forces you to slaughter your children and spread their blood on the statue that was once your best friend in the hopes that he'll come back to life and stop being made of stone.

Step Seven: Invest In Some Cords

Once you've fought off your raging ADD and your noble steed has the firebird pinned to the ground with his valiant hooves, take out some particularly strong cords and tie that bird up. None of the stories specify what kind of cords you should be using, might I suggest bungee cords? Whatever you need, I'm sure you can find them at your local Ace Hardware.

And with that, you're done! Strap that tied up bird to your back, mount your horse, take it back to the Tsar, and get ready to make out with his beautiful daughter. You'll probably get promoted to some sort of noble rank, if you're not there already, and will probably be given riches far beyond your wildest dreams. If you were doing this just for the sense of adventure rather than for the service of a monarch, then congratulations, you now have your own personal table lamp that squawks at you and gets poop on your floor. Make sure you buy it a nibble bar every so often, and try not to get it near your cat.

Also, when you do capture the firebird and gain the fortune and glory that that entails, make sure to give me some credit. I'd go after it myself but I am, of course, female and thus have to stay here and do my nonexistent husband's bidding while learning how to cook and sew and be silent. God help the guy who kidnaps me to make me his wife. Seriously.

Do svidaniya,

*Nelly*

Blog Action Day 2010: Water

So, it's Blog Action Day once again, and I'm here to talk to you about water. Or, specifically, water bottles.

Yeah, I know. Just go with it. It's for a good cause.

Anyway, anyone who used to read my first Blog (all...I don't know, five of you) may remember that my relationship with this illustrious holiday has been somewhat turbulent. It was less that I wasn't interested in the cause, or with the idea behind the movement (actually, I'm a big fan of the idea of Bloggers banding together for charitable reasons) it was more the fact that every year I registered to participate, Blog Action Day happened to fall on a day in which I was doing seven thousand different things or I was nowhere near my computer. This has led to a number of amusing entries in which I try to discuss the important issue of the year, but fail miserably due to being exhausted and incoherent. A few gems include my fifteen-year-old self writing "Care for the environment, or the Lorax shall come after you in the night, provided there's still a night to come after you in." or, more infamously, my sixteen-year-old self passionately pleading in a video "Poverty sucks. And so you should do something about it, even something tiny, it's like It's A Small World, or something."

I was obviously extremely eloquent in high school.

Well, I'm nineteen now, in my second year of college, and have found myself, as is tradition, in the exact same position I was every other year I've tried to do this. It's midterm season, I had class all day, and then a meeting right after. Basically, I think I'm cursed when it comes to Blog Action Day, as I was going to make a legitimate effort to do something...you know, meaningful. Instead, I'm going to talk about water bottles.

Water bottles are bad. They're fairly unnecessary, and extremely overpriced for what you're getting. My mother doesn't believe in them. Well, she believes in them in that she acknowledges they exist, but they're somewhat taboo in and around the house. Over 17 million barrels of oil are used to produce the sheer amount of water bottles used in the US, as reported by Food and Water Watch, and despite the fact that they're all made of plastic, over 86% of them will never be recycled. To add to all this, most of the water in water bottles is, in fact, just tap water disguised by pictures of mountains and islands.

However, for some reason, we're all addicted to bottled water anyway. Why? Probably because the bottled water industry is doing it's absolute hardest to convince us that tap water is the ultimate root of all evil. We are extremely lucky in this country to have safe water at our finger tips, in several parts of the world, people would kill for our tap water, and yet we still worry about it's safety.

To sum it up, because, yes, I unfortunately have seven other things I need to be doing right now, don't buy bottled water. Or at least, don't view it as instantly superior to tap water. Chances are, they're the same thing anyway.

Happy Blog Action Day everyone. Please look up an entry that isn't this rushed and stupid. Here's hoping that one of these days, October 15th will not be an endless day of constant running around.

Recollections Of A Convention

Yeah. That's right. New York Comic Con was just as epic as the music of Danny Elfman just made it look. I'm working on a complete video to document my experience, but for the moment, this is what I've got.

Conventions are possibly the most bizarre events in the history of themed events. It's difficult to describe them to people not "in the know" and even more difficult to explain why you would want to go to one in the first place. At it's core, a convention is a place where far too many people in spandex are crammed into a place that is never able to contain them, where people have fist fights over who the best Doctor or Star Trek captain was, and where you will inevitably find yourself out of money within the first few hours despite not intending to buy anything other than a comic book and some Pocky. It's hot, it's crowded, you're surrounded by people dressed as characters you've only barely ever heard of, and the only thing you can hear is the sound of some obscure J-Pop mixed awkwardly with the t

heme from Star Wars. It's nerds being nerdy, and if you're not into being nerdy, there's no way you'd be caught dead there.

But we nerds know better. Yes, comic, anime, and sci-fi conventions have their dark sides. They're certainly not a place you'd want to bring your psychiatrist to to prove that you lead a normal, healthy social life. But a convention is so much more than just a conclave of nerds in tight fitting spandex. On a slightly cruel level, they're possibly some of the only places you can go and not feel like the most pathetically nerdy person in the room. If conventions teach you anything, it should be that there is always someone nerdier than you. But beyond that, conventions are places without social stigmas. Do you genuinely like to walk around dressed like Batman and wish you could do it in public? Here you can. It's weird, but no one's going to think that when they themselves are dressed as Spider Man with a accompanying Mary Jane. In a world of quick, almost instant judgement, a convention is a place where you can legitimately do whatever you want (within reason, I'm pretty sure "though shalt not kill" still applies) and no one will think of you as anything other than just another person to talk to.

But then, this is common knowledge. Nerds have been flocking to conventions as a way to interact with like minded people since conventions were created. The chance to have a legitimate discussion about who the best Doctor was, or what the hell did happen at the end of Neon Genesis Evangelion, is an opportunity rarely found just walking down 34th street. Just as sports fans need to occasionally hang out in bars and debate over the accuracy of the referee's decisions with people just as passionate about it as they are, nerds need to get together and be unabashedly, shamelessly nerdy.

But the atmosphere of your typical convention has changed a bit in recent years. In the early days of conventions, from what I can gather, they were basically just hardcore Star Trek fans hanging around in Star Fleet t-shirts comparing model phasers. Tony Lee, the writer behind my favorite Doctor Who comic saga "The Forgotten, said at his panel at New York Comic Con this year that Doctor Who conventions were really just more of a small, very nerdy party. The same people showed up with a few drinks, they'd occasionally have a few guests, and that would be that.

Judging from this, I'd say the idea of conventions as small, intimate affairs, is now an incredibly inaccurate one to have.

New York Comic Con was held at the Jatvis Center on 34th street in Manhattan. It's a gigantic complex built for the enormous events that New York tends to attract, however, once professional hours ended and the doors opened to general ticket holders, the place was mobbed. It was absolutely impossible to move for a lot of it, and I frequently found myself caught in human traffic jams that would make Boston look tame in comparison. The convention itself was not limited to just one room, either, and yet everywhere I went, I was surrounded shoulder to shoulder with people.

So how did this happen? How did small, geeky gatherings of like-minded nerds suddenly become the social event of the year? (Well, ok, the social event of the east coast. Thanks, San Diego) The answer lies with popular culture.

Nerds are actually some of the most up to date people on the planet when it comes to current popular culture. Though typically represented in the media as being extremely out of touch people, in real life, they're probably the first to know when something is going on in the entertainment industry. Whether it's the director of the latest Superman movie, or the news of Lost's cancellation, those who are "mainstream" are never the ones to know first, it's those who are obsessed, the devotees, the nerds. Through the intensely geeky need to be constantly up to date, conventions have morphed from simply being a place to discuss something that used to be on TV into giant celebrations of both the best and latest of popular culture. While they remain places for nerds to meet up and speak nerd to each other, they've also become an important tool for being up to date with what's going on in the entertainment industry. As conventions started to get bigger, with more people and more important guests, movie studios, gaming industries, and comic book companies started to take notice. Studios began to see the incredible benefits to sending previews and representatives to conventions. Especially with the rise of the internet, in which geeks can instantly share information with the masses, conventions became a mecca for those interested in entertainment and for the entertainment industry to get it's message out there.

What this has created is an event that, while nerdy and frivolous, is extremely important to the entertainment industry. In a way, it proves just how important geeks and nerds are to popular culture. Yes, we do freak out over really stupid things like whether the Doctor's half-human (he's not, by the way) or whether the Star Wars prequels really were worthless (the first two were, the third one was ok) but we're also vitally important in giving our current generation a sense of identity. In fifty years, when people look back at the popular culture of the day, who is going to remember the people who weren't in the extreme? People will remember the Harry Potter craze, and the finale of Lost. Who says nerds are behind the times? They're not. If anything, they're the ones defining what the times look like, always the first to jump into a new show or explore a new craze. Conventions are not just places to compare toy light sabers, they're windows into the entertainment side of our current culture, as bizarre as the image inside might be.

Solla Sollew

So I'm back in New York. I live on the eighth floor of a fourteen story high rise building, with a giant window that spans almost an entire wall, and a shower that actually manages to stay one consistent temperature. I've managed to hook up both the cable and the internet, and despite having my first class in a wing that seems like something out of a slasher film, things are actually going pretty well for the start of a new semester.

It's funny, I feel like I'm a lot more laid back than I was when I started last year. I had so many expectations for what I wanted my college experience to be like, so many things I absolutely needed it to be in order for me to be content. I got hung up on all sorts of little things, I over thought, over analyzed, over...well, pretty much everything. I was a bit a of a wreck, to be honest,trying to fit in in a major I didn't quite belong in, tying to make my life be this perfect image I'd had in my head, trying to be this person I idolized.

There's a book by Dr. Seuss called I Had Trouble In Getting To Solla Sollew which, as a fair number of his books actually are, is not really written for kids. In it, an unnamed protagonist decides he wants to escape the problems of his life and go to Solla Sollew, a mythical place where "they never have troubles, at least only a few." So he goes on a rather epic quest, traveling an extreme distance, facing all sorts of perils until he finally gets to Solla Sollew. Unfortunately for him, after all the trouble he's faced, and the setbacks that tried to stop him, Solla Sollew is inaccessible. The city has only one trouble, and it's that a "key slapping slippard" has invaded the keyhole, and made it impossible to get in or out of the city. The gatekeeper says he's going to find another mythical problem free land, and offers to take the protagonist with him, but he refuses, instead taking out a bat and deciding to face his troubles head on, exclaiming "Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!"

The book is heavy in metaphor, basically being a lesson in facing your demons rather than running away from them. It also points out that perfection is impossible to find, and that trying to will simply cause even more strife than you had before.

When I first came to college, I was looking for Solla Sollew. I'd just been through a hellish senior year, a depression that had been far harder to get out of than I'd expected, and a number of other things that I've already discussed to death in other entries. I had a desperation to get away, to go somewhere where I wouldn't have to think about, be bothered by, or even really confront everything I knew I should probably have done something about. It was kind of pathetic, actually, but I'm sure everyone's had a moment like that.

The problem was, I was expecting college to be that place. I wanted to go to New York, have it be the glittering place where dreams are made, and just forget everything that ever bothered me. I wanted to be a completely different person than the person I was in New Hampshire.

But of course, you can never get to Solla Sollew. New York was just New York, simultaneously the city of dreams and a noisy, crowded metropolis. My constant need for it to be perfect, and by extension, for me to be perfect, made the year a psychologically harrowing experience. Much like Dr. Seuss's protagonist, I went through more strife trying to find perfection than I ever would have if I'd just let my life be imperfect, and eventually, as is ultimately inevitable when you're trying to get to Solla Sollew, I discovered that a perfect college experience and a perfect sense of self is unobtainable. Things were just the way they were, people, places, and personalities. The best thing to do was to just take my bat and face the world.

So here I am now, one year on. Once again, I have the chance to start over, but you know, I think I'm just going to keep going. Starting over is useless when you have a perfectly fine life to begin with.

"I learned there are troubles of more than one kind.
Some come from ahead and some come from behind...
But I've bought a big bat. I'm all ready, you see.
Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!"

*Nelly*

Cartoon Rant: The Fairly Odd Parents

Yes, I know I'm too old to be watching cartoons. I'm aware I really have no say in what happens in the world of animation, specifically with kids shows that are not in any way targeted at me, but I need to get this off my chest.

What the hell happened to this show?

Seriously, The Fairly Odd Parents was a show that, at one point, was popular enough to rival even the almighty Spongebob Squarepants in ratings. It was clever, funny, quick-witted, and while not exactly the comedic masterpiece of, say, The Animaniacs or Pinky and the Brain, it was generally well written and fun to watch.

Maybe I'm just overly nostalgic (which would be interesting, given that I'm probably a bit too young to be) but watching the show now, in those rare moments I happen to catch my sister watching it and I don't have to run off somewhere, is sort of like reaching for the last apple and realizing it's gone soft and rotten. You know it was once good, you can picture it being ripe and ready to go, but now it's just...not. It's a stale, mutated version of it's former self.

And yes, I realize I'm being melodramatic here. It's just hard to sit there and watch something that used to make you laugh just make you feel uncomfortable. There are some older episodes of this show that I still quote randomly in otherwise civilized conversation. When someone asks me where I got something, I will almost undoubtedly respond "Internet" in an amusing monotone, and yes, I do occasionally threaten to suck people's brains out through these...BENDY STRAWS!!

It's hard to pinpoint exactly when this show lost it. The writing has been steadily declining for a while, it's main characters being altered and exaggerated beyond recognition. It might be around the time creator Butch Hartman left to work on Danny Phantom, but again, it's really hard to tell. Personally, I attribute it to the moment that Ugopotamian warrior prince, Mark Chan, donned a human disguise and moved to Earth. The episodes that his character was in were always some of my favorites, and to this day, will still make me laugh hysterically. It was exciting to see him in the show, but ultimately, it's a simple rule of comedy to not overuse a joke. His character wasn't exactly increased, per say, but was significantly altered and made a permanent staple.

Keep in mind, this was long before the "Cousin Oliver" character of Poof, the fairy god baby, was added to the show. Seriously, why do network executives keep assuming that adding a random young kid to a declining show will "improve ratings" or "breath new life into it"? Has it ever been proven to work?

But when it comes down to it, what bothers me the most, is the protagonists. Take a look at the earlier episodes, Timmy is not exactly the brightest person you've ever met, but he's still a thousand times more intelligent than any of the adults, and in fact, most of the people around him at all. He was more snarky than stupid, and actually seemed to have some common sense to him. Cosmo, despite being clearly insane, was, again, more silly than just downright stupid, and was complimented by Wanda who, while definitely the most down-to-earth of the group, was just as off the wall as Cosmo.

Now watch some of the recent episodes. Timmy is annoying and selfish (except, so I've been told, in the recent Wishology episodes) Wanda is an offensively stereotypical female nag, and Cosmo has reached such extreme levels of stupidity that it's a wonder he can even function at all. The once clearly happily married fairy god parents have become just Wanda forcing Cosmo to be her bitch, despite the fact that it was stated very early on that Cosmo ran away from home, of his own free will, specifically to marry Wanda. It's gotten to the point where Cosmo is willing to literally trade Wanda in for a nickel. They were once a rare example of a legitimately positive and functional couple, one that is somewhat worryingly lacking in kids shows. It kills me that it's been mutilated into a stereotype-laden mess.

But again, I'm probably over-analyzing. Shows jump the shark all the time, they live long past their welcome and end up a barely recognizable shell of their former selves. Look at Scrubs, look at Pinky, Elmyra, and the Brain, hell, look at later Rugrats. This is nothing new, it's just sad. It makes me angry when writers think that kids won't notice when characters are horribly altered, or the jokes aren't really funny anymore. Just because they're kids doesn't mean they don't notice when a show has seriously lost it's mojo, that's why ratings decline and shows eventually end up doomed to land of 3AM re-runs.

And seriously, don't even get me started on the live-action adaption. Has Nickelodeon learned nothing from the atrocity that was M. Night Shymalan's The Last Airbender? Why can't animation just stay animation? Is that so wrong?