Skye has been waxing lyrical over the Wheel of Time series — especially over Lan.
“Oh, Lan, how much I desire thee, to feel thy strong arms envelopeth aroundeth me, to shriek in fan-girlish squeals as, gallant gentleman thou art protecteth me!” she cooed.
Really, I swear she actually said (typed in MSN) it all!
True story.
.
..
…
Ok, maybe I over-exaggerated a tiny little bit.
I’ve been tempted to pick up the heavy series again, but laziness stills my hands. They’re a colossal pain to prop up in bed and while eating with a hand. Of late, I’ve been reading a lot of Raymond E. Feist. The Murloc had introduced me to this extraordinary writer – for the curious, his first book is Magician – when our WoW-centric relationship turned to more RLish topics. (He also claims that he’d tried to order it through Borders Australia so I can pick up a copy from Borders Singapore… which didn’t happen because it can’t be done…?)
So far, I’ve noticed a thing (or three) about fantasy novels/movies. There’s always at least two factions (duh) and more often, three. By factions, I mean cultural factions.
There’ll be the obligatory Western /English society which your primary protagonist (for there can be many) stem from. This society will use terms that are familiar in most aspects, most evidently in their military and governmental infrastructure (ie, Sergeant, Baron). Free will is greatly valued; there will rarely, if ever, be slaves – for most men will be freemen, like merchants and carpenters. Not much store is placed by death – for the most part people of this society prefer life, not death in any form. Mannerisms will be polite but easy without much societal constraints, depending on station. Clothing will be either conservative or slightly fancy, but never too extravagant. And nakedness is definitely a topic to blush upon. Religion is part of the free-will package, and there’re usually a variety of Gods to choose from. Appearance-wise, these people are usually “average”, like humans, with hair colour typical of Westerners. And similar builds.
Then, there’ll be a society with great semblance to the Eastern society, particularly Japan and Korea. They are the “foreigners” whose customs make sense only to themselves. This society’s language is usually convoluted with societal niceties, and words are often carefully considered before spoken lest it leads to an undesired consequence. When it comes to names for stations, they are usually unnecessarily long and ornate. Slavery is an accepted fact of life, and chances are practically nonexistent for slaves to be freed or climb up the social ladder. Free will exists in two choices when death greets you in the face – death, or the shame of you and your entire family. Honour is (very, very) important, and can be the deciding factor in decisions made rather than logic. Clothing can either be very formal with layers upon layers of robes, or so informal that a sheer short robe is appropriate for lounging within one’s own house… even with guests around. As you can expect, nakedness isn’t as taboo a subject as it is for the Western society “read-alike”. Religion is worship of the Emperor (or in the “…Of the Empire” series, the Light of Heaven), even to the exclusion of gods with temples. These people usually have dark hair and eyes, and slender of shorter build.
The third society would be of barbaric origins. The closest RL example would be tribes. This society’s language range from primal to “normal” (of a Western society’s). Government and military infrastructure range from simplistic to a structure that rivals even the best organized equivalents of their world, with station names of a straight-to-the-point-and-obey-immediately nature. Free will is commonplace – which is probably why there’re so many factions within this society around; half of them are renegades from the original faction. These barbarians, for a lack of a better name, don’t discriminate when it comes to slaves. They can be outsiders or of their own society; they don’t give a fuck. Slaves are slaves, and all slaves do the same thing. Survival is key, and there is no family to speak of, for one could easily turn on members of their own if their life was in danger. One who runs away, lives to regroup and attack another day. Clothing is versatile, they can be sparse or be a varied combination of spoils taken from their victims, but hardly elegant and pretty. Nakedness is probably a way of life… swing on, twig and berries! Their god is whatever god they have for harvest, life, and bloodshed. Of course, that’s simplifying it a whole lot.
Obviously the third society has the most to offer when it comes to variety. Do you want a grunting region of barbarians who barter instead of using currency, but overwhelm the more “civilized” nations with their sheer force and tactical ingenuity? You got it. Perhaps you prefer barbarians who are almost indistinguishable from those of the Western society, apart from their array of materials thanks to their incredible resourcefulness. Or maybe, barbarians who’re actually the most normal of the lot, a people you can actually sympathize with, apart from the fact that they eat babies every full moon. These barbarians usually look a lot more aggressive and dominating than the other societies with their imposing stature and tanned skin, but hair colour can be quite varied. Oh, and unlike the other two, this society revels in bloodshed and living in gloominess. They also seem to have a natural aversion to light (think Romulans of the recent Star Trek movie).
It’s a little annoying to read a fantasy novel series and then be able to say, “These Tsurani people are way too similar to the Japanese!”. It’s almost as if it takes the magic away because you now have a people in real life that you can compare to the characters in the books.
However, I understand that it’s unavoidable, these stereotypes. They help the audience identify with the various characters on a subconscious level, saving the author a great amount of work when it comes to explaining his societies. It’s easier and less complex when you have real life stereotypes to build your fictional characters on, requiring only minor tweaking of the real life counterparts to make your fictional heroes more believable in the pages of your novel. It’s okay.
I’m too tired to argue otherwise anyway… not that I have a good alternative for you, aspiring authors of fantasy fiction novels to come.
Gyms scare me, period.
I remember standing outside one of my mum’s gyms while she enquired about some programme she wanted to attend when I was 14 or so and thinking, “I’ll never even step into a gym, ever!”
Well, sure ate my words today… And walked 3.08km (courtesy of e71’s “Sport Tracker” app) to do so.
Today was supposed to be the day that I and the gym were formally introduced. Someone would take me around and show me how to use the various equipment so that I won’t break a bone or tear a tendon. At least, that was the plan.
Then the BF had to go do a job at 6pm, which meant I needed to either:
- Hitch a Ride
- Brave the Public Transport
- Walk. Alot.
To get there. As it turned out, I walked. In the cold biting winds that blew across the land, against the blinding headlights of oncoming cars (since I chose to walk on the opposite side) and against my better judgement.
33.56 minutes later, I finally arrived, looking very much out of place in a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, a hoodie and a scarf… and already flushed from the walk. Luckily I did not wear the multi-coloured hat-with-flaps that would’ve marked me as an absolute, unsalvageable FOBber.
- Like this, except adult-sized. And in much, much brighter colours.
I got a locker key, I stowed my stuff, I changed, and then I went up to the front desk and asked about the lady I was supposed to meet. She was standing right next to me. An Asian lady, a whole head (and some) shorter than me and who looked my auntie’s age – about 45 or so. And much confusion ensued when she said that she’d informed some other staff member that she had to go off at 7pm that evening because she had another class down the road at 7.30pm.
Can you say, OH MY GOD PANIC!!!!!!
What am I doing there? Should I just change, pack up and leave????
Oh no, the staff brightly said. There’s a dance aerobic class at 7.30pm that I could stay around and have fun in!
Dubious, but willing to give it a turn since I’ve walked all the way there and didn’t really want to walk back, I agreed with much good humour.
The staff rescheduled me for Thursday at 3pm, and we tried to find a time for the BF, and eventually we decided that he should arrange it himself.
I wandered off to the ladies-only area.
There were bicycles, presses, weights, treadmills, some weird inverse bicycle where you sorta lay on an incline and pedal, as well as a machine that I can only describe as a stepper. It has handles for you to hang onto for dear life, and these great big flats which I could only assume to place my feet upon.
At first, I walked on the threadmill, for about 10 minutes… and I got bored. Nervously I wandered back to the locker, smsed the BF, gathered my courage and approached one of the stepper-thingies. It was great fun until my body seemed to think that my arms were controlling my legs and my legs thought that I was insane for wanting to do this on the spot activity. And since it was about 7.40pm anyway I decided to be brave and go ask the staff where the class for the dance aerobics was being held.
Turns out I was the only person attending it.
It was great, great fun though. I never realized how chunky my legs were until I looked at myself in those mirrors and crrrrrrriiiinnnnngggeeeddddd. Fuck I wish I hadn’t been such an avid basketballer. But we had fun, and it felt like a personal class for an activity meant for a bunch of people. I stretched like never before, I flounced with two left feet, and I saw for my own two eyes… How bad my limbs coordinated with each other. The music was suitably poppy with a great rhythm (and if you actually listened to the lyrics, some of them were pretty dirty too) and the instructor laughed plenty. I began to get a stitch from all the twirls and jumps and skips and twisting I was doing.
Man, that’s the most amount of exercise I’ve done in years.
Except that I wished sorely for a friend.
The class ended, and I went to walk on the threadmill to cool down for about 10 minutes while waiting for the BF to show up and ferry me home.
While he was rescheduling his “Welcome to the Gym” tour, the topic of girls and guys came up. Specifically, which sex was better for oogling. The staff said I should’ve been a lesbian. I totally agreed.
Then I semi-ruined the night of healthiness with a vegetarian lasagna for dinner. And I still have oreos for tomorrow… :)
What can I say? It must be PMS!
Yep, you read it right. For the first time since we got together, he’s the one who’s going away somewhere.
He’s gone to see snow with his dad in some mountain in the grand state of New South Wales. The destination was chosen because, 1. Dad wants to meet somewhere in between and 2. Dad also wanted to see snow before he died.
Today’s Day One, and he’ll be returning sometime (probably late) on Sunday.
It’s really quite inconvenient.
I have to handle the two boys on my own (made worse because it’s been raining and they get muddy every 2 hours). There’s no transport (aka the BF and the BMW). And also because it’s been raining, I can’t just hop on my bike and go off to the local shops. There’s plenty to do around the house but I don’t really want to – who the hell does?
… I think I’ll let Dion sleep in bed with me to “replace” the BF.
Hehehehehe.
Oh I do miss him, I just think I need to grow a back-bone and not moan and groan about how much I miss him and how much I need him. Which for the record, I don’t. There’s a reason why we girls have fingers!
Yesterday.
Guess which part ;)
I mean, the part that broke was slowly breaking down over the months, but it was still pretty dramatic. I’d gone to 6 different optometrists asking for bundles ($330 at the least because of my degree) and the cost of eye tests ($65 because I’m a tourist).
We saw a pair at our local optometrist that was a beautiful pair, distinguished purple metal frames. Not plastic, not tacking.
$490.
So I went shopping online and we’d decided on these.
I’ll be getting the red ones, and best of all even with the most expensive options (since I don’t know my actual eye prescriptions yet): “Price – Lens & Frame: $80.90“
Woot!
Downside is, I’ll probably have to wait a month for them to arrive.
