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same old same old
it doesn't feel like spring.
rainy-chilly-snowy-bone aching-nastiness.
i've got all this stuff to do, and i've left it for the last minute, as per usual. sigh. you'd think i'd learn.
with the week i've had, i didn't get a minute to vent my outrage at the oscars. first of all, the whole production seems especially meaningless this year, more so than usual. (at least the idea of it does, having no TV i didn't watch them.) but that aspect has been completely explored in many another forum, so i'll leave that be.
here's what i'm personally outraged about.
why is it that fantasy is not a respectable art form? why is it that when you put up a schizophrenic nobel laureate against hobbits and elves, the schizo wins by definition?
i've basically devoted my life to the realm of fantasy. it is what i study, what i read, what i love. the world of the imagination, faeryland, is something that is so intrinsically important to me that i can't understand the lack of respect that it commands. all the stories that we tell are fantasies in some sense, movies, books, plays, the little daydreams that fill our heads in lazy moments. why is it lesser somehow if inhabited by magic?
rainy-chilly-snowy-bone aching-nastiness.
i've got all this stuff to do, and i've left it for the last minute, as per usual. sigh. you'd think i'd learn.
with the week i've had, i didn't get a minute to vent my outrage at the oscars. first of all, the whole production seems especially meaningless this year, more so than usual. (at least the idea of it does, having no TV i didn't watch them.) but that aspect has been completely explored in many another forum, so i'll leave that be.
here's what i'm personally outraged about.
why is it that fantasy is not a respectable art form? why is it that when you put up a schizophrenic nobel laureate against hobbits and elves, the schizo wins by definition?
i've basically devoted my life to the realm of fantasy. it is what i study, what i read, what i love. the world of the imagination, faeryland, is something that is so intrinsically important to me that i can't understand the lack of respect that it commands. all the stories that we tell are fantasies in some sense, movies, books, plays, the little daydreams that fill our heads in lazy moments. why is it lesser somehow if inhabited by magic?