I've Gone and Gotten Myself a Blog Award!

Well, Amyrose just GAVE me a blog award out of the goodness of her heart. I didn't do much for it (except be glorious, but still, it was mostly Amy's generousness). And now, I can do that thing people do where they put the awards they've won down the sides of their blogs. Heehee! It doesn't get any better than this. =D




Everyone say "Yay Minnie!" . . . Or don't, that's up to you, but now I think I have to post seven facts about myself and pass this award on.

1. I really like when I empty the garbage (not so much the emptying part, but the following part) and I put in new liner and it's all clean and empty and I throw in the inaugural garbage and it kind of disappears in the white slack of the new garbage bag. I just really like it.

2. I have brown hair and brown eyes, and I love both, though I recently got blue streaks put in my hair just for fun.

. . . Hmm. So many facts about me. It's hard to pick.

3. I always get inspired when I go to Barnes & Noble and browse, even quickly, over all the books, their pretty covers and imaginative premises.

4. Spiderman's my favorite superhero. I mean the Spiderman from the 1992 TV series, Spiderman. He's so snarky, punny, deep, persevering, heroic, handsome -- all tall and muscular, with those big, expressive spider-costume eyes -- and I relate to him a lot.

5. Hannah Montana was a terrible show, and High School Musical was a terrible movie, but I love their songs. Why are you looking at me like that? They're fun, they're upbeat, they're dance-worthy. . . I'm not weird.

6. I'm hungry. That's a weak excuse for a fact, though. I mean, how long will THAT last. Um, I once had braces. I was really excited for them beforehand, and I never really grew to hate them -- though relations with the teeth-correcting apparatus were difficult on days the orthodontist adjusted it. I mean, sometimes they were green, sometimes blue, sometimes glow-in-the-dark. What a way to express individuality.

7. I AM still hungry. But more importantly, my favorite color is purple. It's rich, deep, and regal, just like me. Well, I'm rich in spirit, and regal at certain intervals, but almost always deep.

Now to pass this on. I could pass it on to a few people, I suppose. But I don't actually talk to some of the bloggers whose blogs I read, and I'd feel weird giving them an award.

I know one for sure though! (Unless she already has this award?)

Eleanor Roscuro of Apostrophe

Yep, Eleanor's blog is probably the first one I really got into that wasn't by someone famous, and she opened my eyes to the fact that un-famous people can still punctuate a sentence and to the fact that someone else feels what I do. =) Thanks, Eleanor. (For the record, I don't care that much about punctuation or spelling, but when people don't punctuate or spell correctly, it often means they don't care about what they're writing.)

Now, I wasn't going to do this at first, but...why not, you know?

Derek Landy of Derek Landy Blogs Under Duress

Yay! He's not a follower of mine, and I'm not sure I'm allowed to pass this on to non-followers. I'm also not sure he'll bother with this whole award, seven facts, pass it on deal. But he's extremely nice, and I'm sure he'll appreciate it when I pop up on his blog and say, "I'm giving you the One Lovely Blog Award. It's a thing, really, and I'm giving it to you." =) Yep, yep.



I really regret not posting more this summer, but I have a new post coming very soon.

Facts' Fears Three

Greetings, traveler, on this, the first of August. All hail August, Monthiest Month of the Year, as voted on by readers of Year Magazine. Congrats, August, on winning the honor!

Well, I've made it through one (partial) month of blogging. Here's to month number two.

Remember when I said I was afraid of everything and nothing? I said I'd explain in a later post. Well, I'm actually not sure what I meant. I guess it had something to do with my knowledge that every morning I get up, every person I meet, every action I take presents a window for danger, for pain, humiliation, or death. I know this too well, and it scares me. Sometimes, though, I can forget it and enjoy myself. Sometimes, I can push it back in my mind, not all the way, but at least halfway, and it sticks in the thick of that forest of twisty grey matter. I try not to be paranoid, but I can't help it sometimes. My life is good. I shouldn't expect danger everywhere, but because of stories I've heard and unpleasant memories I have, I do.

I'm even scared of this blog, in a way. I'm scared of getting too personal in my writing, of caring too much, of being attacked for my beliefs, of being stalked. I hope to do a longer post on this.

Anyway, I'll now give more concrete examples of fears. I'm afraid of frying bacon, a.k.a. Hot Oil Splatters of Death. That's all bacon is essentially. I'm afraid of parasites or other types of nasty creatures that get INSIDE you and cause damage. I saw a video of a parasite thing that could take over grasshopper bodies and cause the poor grasshoppers to go insane. I'm deathly afraid of haters/mean people (very scary, and they're all over the place too). Who ISN'T scared of them? They probably scare themselves.

Facts and Fears

Inspired by Derek Landy's blog post on what scares him, I've decided to write about what scares me (mostly because I already know what to say after reading Derek's post).

I'm scared of people in vehicles. When a car passes me, my brain goes, "kidnapper. Kidnapper. KIDNAPPER. KIDNAPPERRRRR!!! Oh, good, they passed." Maybe it's the fact that most kidnapping stories I've heard involve cars. When my friends and I travel sidewalks of busier roads, my brain takes some comfort in its subconscious understanding that no one will kidnap us there because of all the other kidnappers around. Each one is afraid they'll try to kidnap us at the same time as someone else, and they don't want to start a kidnapper war.

Now, now. No need to defend your vehicle-driving self, friends, or family. I know I'm being super paranoid and very few vehicle drivers actually are kidnappers. Some of my best friends and favorite family members drive vehicles, but if I see you or anyone else in a car, my brain will immediately translate that as "kidnapper." You can never be too careful. Or so thinks my brain. Sometimes, I don't even recognize my family until they get out of the car. I'm too frantic deciding the best course of action: run, hide, or see if it's someone I know. During this period of contemplation, I freeze up. I know it MIGHT be someone I know, but what if it's not? Should I take the chance? I know they PROBABLY don't mean me harm, but what if they do? Should I take the chance? If I run or hide, there's a huge chance I'll humiliate myself by running from someone NORMAL or from my family, the latter of which would probably be suspicious I'm doing something I shouldn't (eating candy my mom hid for Easter), as they don't know of my vehicle-drivers phobia. I'd hate to be kidnapped, but I'd also hate to humiliate myself. In the end, I humiliate myself anyway by freezing up with a "deer in the headlights" expression on my face.

I don't like the idea of getting kidnapped and killed. I'm not scared to die. That would be like being scared of Jesus or paradise. In the immortal words of Linguini, "She believed in heaven, so she's set. Afterlife-wise." But BEING KILLED...I'm sure I wouldn't enjoy it.

I also fear the bunny that haunteth the patterns of clothing, accessories, and posters. Its face looketh sweet, but its words readeth mean. It's perverted to put a cute, smiling white rabbit next to a nasty little caption. Which is another thing that scares me: pervertedness. Which is also why I fear some objects like ventriloquist dolls, dolls, puppets, and other innocent-looking things that people use to make mean, perverted jokes. That is to say, I have nothing against the objects themselves but I fear someone MIGHT use them for perverted reasons. Of course, I also fear pervertedness without the "cute" mediums. Some people, I swear, they're worse than the bunny!

I guess I'm scared of zombies, but only because I know they'd get me dirty. Look at them! They're positively unhygienic! (But I am Legend and Resident Evil and Alien Vs. Predator didn't scare me much, and Zombieland was actually entertaining.)

There's lots of other things. Generally, I'm scared of everything and nothing. It's hard to explain, so I won't. At least, not this post. I will in another post, I promise.

Facts and Fairytales

Usually, when I read fairytales, I expect them to have a point, and usually, they don’t. Why do I even expect them to anymore? Maybe I just grew up with the few tales that do have morals, Goldilocks (don’t break and enter and steal), Beauty and the Beast, and The Boy Who Cried Wolf. Still, when a fairytale character is dishonest or thieving or rude to a stranger, I expect something bad to happen because evil always falls upon misbehaving fairytale characters, or so I think. I react, “Why is he so stupid? Doesn’t he know he’s in a fairytale where evil falls upon misbehaving characters?” Shockingly, however, in some stories, nothing actually does happen to them, which baffles me, although it shouldn’t, since, as I said, fairytales are generally pointless.

For example, in a fairytale called The Clever Cook, a servant roasts two fowls, one for her master and the other for his guest. The guest is late, so the master goes out to get him. The cook eats the pheasants, the master returns, and this is where it gets funny. In fact, this is probably the only funny, albeit pointless, fairytale I’ve ever read, and I didn’t know fairytales could be funny, let alone in such a modern sense. I could totally see what happened next in a modern comedy. The master comes in one door and tells the cook to get the food. She goes to the other door, where the guest is waiting for some reason, and she tells him her master is going to cut off his ears. The guest then runs. The cook tells her master the guest ran away with the food. The master thinks it was rude of the man not to have left at least one pheasant for him, so he chases after the man, saying, “Just one! Just one!” The guest of course thinks he’s talking about his ears. Determined to keep both his ears, he gets away. The end.

Seriously, the end.

Pointless, right?

In another story, The Three Black Princesses, a fisherman’s son lives in a village besieged by an enemy who demands 600 dollars before they’ll leave. One day, the enemy kidnaps the fisherman’s son, giving his father 600 dollars. First of all, why are they giving away 600 dollars when they’re asking for 600 dollars? Secondly, his father accepts! But as they leave the village, they boy escapes and finds a secret castle. There, three princesses request his help freeing them. He agrees but soon asks to visit his father for a week. When he gets home, he finds his father has been made the burgomaster (whatever that is) of the village for providing it the 600 dollars it needed. However, the young man calls his father Fisherman instead of Mr. Burgomaster (who would want to be called that anyway?), and they try to hang him for it. His father finally recognizes him, though, and apologizes (for almost hanging him, not for selling him), and they have a joyous reunion. Geez, kid, aren’t you even a bit mad your father sold you out to be King of the Village? The boy tells his parents about the princesses. His mother says, “Don’t help them, son. Instead, randomly pour boiling water on their faces.” And he replies, “Okay, Mom.” He returns to the castle and pours boiling water on their faces while they sleep, waking them up. Understandably, they are miffed, and they call their brothers to tear him apart, but he jumps out a window, breaking his leg, and the castle disappears. The end.

Other examples exist too, famous fairytales we've heard a thousand times, like Hansel and Gretel. The nice old grandma who took care of them tried to eat them, and they kept going back to the dad who kept ditching them; what's the point of that? And, um, and...Well, I can't think of any other examples right now.

I realize that fairytales are supposed to have deep, symbolic meaning. Fairytales are just one of many infuriating types of incoherent babble said to have meaning. I once read a quote that I now don’t remember, but it articulated something along the lines of, “If you can’t understand it, how is it great art?” This is true. If fairytales can’t be understood by the majority of people who read them, what’s the point? What makes them art? Generally, art needs to say something to be art, but if no one understands what it says, who’s to say it says anything at all? Maybe some lazy person is simply attempting to get recognized by the powerful people who say that incomprehensible babble is the highest form of expression. What’s the point of fairytales no one can understand? Are they coded language for secret organizations? I’m forced to conclude that fairytales are either “great art” (a.k.a. campfire kindling) or that fairytales are the secret language of the Illuminati and my ticket into their inner circle.

(Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed herein are simplified by the author for time’s sake and do not represent any actual intent to infiltrate the Illuminati or her views on foreign sounding babble in the soundtracks of 3 Idiots and Coraline. Some fairytales have aspects that could inspire current writers and companies, such as the Disney company. Fairytales have some entertainment value and other uses. In fact, the author enjoys many fairytale adaptions.)

The First Fact

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