Tuesday, March 20, 2012

A Game of Thrones: Hearts and Hordes

Pony Friendship Magic Meets Daenerys Targaryen
"Fear cuts deeper than swords." 


"We are only human and the gods fashioned us for love.  That is our great glory and our great tragedy." 


Bran: "Can a man be brave if he's afraid?"
Ned: "That is the only time a man can be Brave"


In the last week or so, I've developed a fascination with George R.R. Martin's A Game of Thrones (the quotes above are taken from his novel), as well as HBO's television adaption of the series.  As I indicated yesterday, this Hysterical Blogger has concocted a brilliant and cunning plan for dealing with a serious and devastating problem.  I call it: Escapism.  Say it with me now: Escapism.  What?  Its immature?  Half Assed?  Well, listen here, my friends, knowing the consequences of action requires more information than I currently have at my disposal.  Of course, I'm aching to talk to the other person.  In fact, I'd love nothing more.  But here is the deal: without good information and a few status updates, I'm working blind.  I could step out there and say what is in my heart only to end up like Nero's wife Poppea.  The latter was unfaithful to her spouse so the former jumped on her, up and down, up and down, until she died.  Am I hurting? Absolutely, but the prospect of being jumped on is terrifying.  Every way I turn the problem around I still conclude action on my part is ill advised.  The answer?: Escapism Game of Thrones Style.  


How can I escape into a Medieval Fantasy?  Well, mostly by reading and watching television, though the former is hard for me right now, as my ability to concentrate has greatly diminished.  However, there is a less obvious aspect to Escapism, my Darlings.  Let me explain.  As I dive deeper into George R.R. Martin's world of Kings, Hands, Knights, and Traitors, my solutions to Smaller Issues are taking on a certain Fairy Tale Quality.  Want an example?  Sure, you do.  Here goes. Before driving to Bloomington yesterday, I'd promised to drop my friend, Adam, off at O'Hare Airport in Chicago.  During the drive down we had the following conversation.


Adam: You can't argue like that with another person in your field like that.  I told you to break this off months ago, but you ignored me.
Bronies Amuse Me


Me: First of all, you're not Hand of the King.  My brother, Jacob, is.  Second of all, I don't care what you told me or said would happen.  I have feelings for this person and that's what matters to me.  As I said last time, there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.


Adam: First of all, enough with the Geek Speak.  Second of all, Fuck Feelings.  You need a job so go play nice, make up, and say whatever is just fine with you.


Me: NO.  Jobs come and go but my feelings do not.  I won't make my decisions based upon the external.  I'll follow my heart.  You and I have different priorities.  "When you play a Game of Thrones, you win or you die."


Adam: Is this more nerdy stuff?  Stop speaking witchcraft.


Me: Let me rephrase: You're totally wrong so I'm demoting you from a Member of My Council to the Court Jester.  The Hand thinks you're wrong as well.


The more I contemplated the Jester's wrongness and insensitivity to my Smitten Heart the more I devised plans for his punishment.   First, I decided I would send the strongest of my Dothraki Warriors from my Horde to instruct him in the ways of pain.  Then I remembered...I don't have Dothraki Warriors.  In fact, I don't even control a Horde.  Well, alright, I thought, "I'll send members of my Kings Guard after him....hold on."  I don't sit on an Iron Throne do I?  Okay, fine, I'll call my Banners.  Wait.  Wait.  Why don't have anything cool or useful in my arsenal?   No Iron Throne.  No Dothraki Warriors. No Rainbow Guard.  Not even Smelly-Old Banners.  What's a Gal to do?  I've exacted no justice on the Court Jester and my problem still remains hanging over my head like a Rain Cloud of Despair and Doom.   At the moment, I think I'd have better luck obtaining a Pet Dragon (which I would name Tyrion.  I've a soft spot for bastards and broken things, probably because I am the latter), than running ahead attempting to fix things without the proper information.  So for now, My Medieval Escapism includes locating a Fire Breathing Pet and hoping that somehow that will solve the other Grievous Issue.  Who knows, "Sometimes different roads lead to the same castle."


*For anyone interested, Game of Thrones Season Two is set to begin in two weeks.  Whose excited?:  Me...yes, obviously, I'm holding onto my sanity with both hands right now.

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