|A new title of achievement…now for some real-world ones..
I just started reading The Night Circus, which Tome recommended to me. It is, so far, a perfect book for me. I have a big, fat stack of books, both of the professional, informational variety and the entertaining sort. After reading the first four of the Game of Thrones epics back-to-back, (which I do not recommended) it’s time I turned my thoughts in a different direction for a bit…
…and I am going to say something very upside-down and inside out–there is a scene at the beginning in Circus with a ring. There are all kinds of rings in stories, for rings are symbols. Symbols are generally universal, need no Tower of Babel directions or Rosetta Stones. A circle is eternal. It reminded me of the ring rite-of-passage in that little fan-fict story
I wrote not too long ago. As I was reading it, I thought, oh wow, if anyone ever read that and the Circus book, they may have thought I borrowed too heavily. But I didn’t. And, there has been many times I have thought that my style is very similar to Tome’s, and that folks probably think I’m riding on her blogroll coattails. Wait, let me clarify: I am not suggesting I am as good as a writer as Erin Morganstern, not even close. That’s like me saying, “Hey, I’m made some grilled salmon once, call me Bobby Flay!” Nope. But I feel–weird. I do feel upside-down and inside-out right now. And being a woman of action, dammit, I want to do something about it, because this is not a comfortable feeling.
I guess I’m just feeling a bit of a factory-model, and not the showroom these days.
In college, I noticed many a young art student haunting museums, trying to replicate the masters’ styles. There is something to be said for this kind of training. It always used to irritate and fascinate me when I found out that Albrecht Dürer and most artists had a stable of apprentices who executed their visions.
But maybe that’s it — what I’m feeling– that I’m trying to stay imaginative and fresh, but while I was chasing dragons, the toady bureaucrats were filling in the blank spaces with shades of dull. The other day someone I adore used the term “control trap.” I will tell you my interpretation: when someone you have some kind of relationship with, be it romantic, work, etc., puts forth something that is a “sketch,” a “work in progress” — and makes it clear it may change. Okay. You move forward. You got this. Flexible. Sure. And then a few months down the road, when you’ve executed the master’s vision as close to his specifications as possible–BAM–“That is not meeting expectations. What are you doing?! (I hear Hagara’s voice in my mind right now). Didn’t you follow the (fill in the blank of the name of whatever manifesto provided)? Hear that? That is the sounds of steel-jaws around your ankle. Good luck gnawing your way out of this one.
However, I am not sure what I do want to do. Sit on the warm sidewalk in Dalaran after eating Magic Eaters and turning into a tiny basilisk sounds good:
|Mrs. Whitworth isn’t sure if Zep is dangerous or a snack…or both
Here is some good news in Azeroth: My guild’s Team 2 did MoD. I know it’s old news for many players, such old news that for weeks the WoW Insiders, and tweets, and blogs and such are suffocating on their own ennui. Many have played the beta of MoP so much I fear for them when it is finally released–the cake is baking, and they already dipped their fingers in the frosting.
To pick up on the Matty’s Urban Achievers post, the thing is –it doesn’t really matter. I enjoy those who are still hanging around Azeroth, keeping the gutters clean, picking up the trash, and making sure the Ironforge tram is running on time. I like derping around for a bit because cross-dressing rogue told me how to get a Flamefly pet. I like doing LFR with my bestest buddy and seeing him make gnomes cry with his magical locket. I like blowing up magma traps by Firelands and floating down to safety. Those seem to be the only traps I can spot.
But back to the eternal memes: I know I sound dumb–there are thousands of uses of the word “ring” in thousands of stories. It’s not just the ring, it’s just this sense of not being unique, or one-of-a-kind lately. And since this blog is for me to figure that out, I think I just did. It is being put in control traps by unimaginative, stubborn people. Yuck. A pox on all of them!
To, to some fresh air (it’s been so wooly stuffy cloudy yucky for weeks here), to some new thoughts, and some new grooves in my brain. Can’t catch me, punks, I’m not taking that trap bait.