< 1 min read
The final season of Game of Thrones starts where this whole madcap, fire-infatuated, snow-covered, incest-propaganda-film of a series originally began: at Winterfell, with a royal procession, and a small boy [ not Bran this time; lol ] climbing to take in the sights, his eyes large at the sight of thousands of Unsullied marching through the gates.
Of course, the main thrust of the episode, if you’ll pardon the expression, centres on the unbridled lust that links Jon and Daenerys, despite their similar DNA.
Unfortunately, the episode’s two greatest problems hover around the following. The first is that Bran practically gave himself a headache in season seven when he told Sam that Jon must know the truth about his parentage as soon as possible, but then lets enough time go by that Jon goes off on a dragon-riding adventure before egging Sam on to spill the beans. What were they waiting for? How did Sam move about Winterfell without Jon knowing he was there?
The other oddity is that Jon doesn’t immediately worry about the fact that he’s been committing incest. Yes, such behavior is tolerated slightly better in Westeros, and the news that his whole life is a lie does take top billing, but still. Who wouldn’t eventually clap a hand to his mouth and sputter something about how the two have been intimately acquainted in a very unfortunate way?
This is all I have for now; but let’s not forget the beautiful dragon ride [ Jon & Dan ] – best part of the premier to meeeeeeeeeee.
2 min read
First! Are you one of those with the ‘New year New me’ syndrome?’ or rather the ‘New year cut off syndrome’ … However, you must know that the above two are diseases that infect the lily-livered usually from mid-December till mid-January. It has no cure but instead goes on a recess only to resurface again at times like this.
So did you catch the disease? What are your coping mechanisms if you did? Lol
It’s not even supposed to be funny.
Did you know that men like you and I sat down to construct the Calendar? That we act like it’s some supernatural tool privileged to man is a pet peeve. At the approach of a new year, we start to act like men who were born blind and just received sight. We begin to make rules that the majority of us cannot live by.
The history of calendars can be traced to the bronze age. The Sumerian calendar was the first, followed by the Egyptian, Assyrian and Elamite calendars(please research history for yourself). The sole purpose of creating calendars was to keep track of days and larger divisions of time. That a man should change at the beginning of a new year was not in the blueprint, as a matter of fact, that’s a misconstrued way of living.
Resolutions are like manifestos. Both say a recap of what we would do in the new but some hiccups manifest beyond our control and majority falls off the wagon. Resolution is personal while a manifesto is Political. If you cannot live up to your resolution, never prosecute a politician for not living up to his/her Manifesto. There’s no double standard here. Change is a process, not an instance. That it is the beginning of a new year doesn’t mean we can change overnight or do genies(jinnis) appear at the cross over to blow us a new template? I really like to know.
If it takes you a new year to figure great things for yourself then I am not sorry for you. If it takes you a new year to cut the so-called ‘toxic friends’ from your life then you are not only a coward but an opportunist. Stop making calendars an escape route. If I were your friend and you cut me off at the beginning of a new year, I wouldn’t even feel bad for me but for you because you couldn’t figure you out and the things you wanted without a calendar as your side piece…that’s so pathetic ex-friend!
Create your own time. Orchestrate your change anytime. Calendars are not your saving!
2 min read
When she texted me saying she had just lost her dad, my reaction was although cliche but acceptable I bet.
“Wow! When did this happen… I am so sorry for your loss… How have you been holding up dear? Please accept my condolence “
But was this me? Was it how I wanted to react or how society taught me to? Society taught me this and also taught me not to ask the things I would have wanted to because I might come across as insensitive.
How do you react to the news of death? I bet you are just like me who reacts in ways you are expected to and then you keep asking questions at the back of your mind…questions you would have loved the bereaved to answer for you but it’s very unfortunate you cannot ask.
When someone tells me they lost a loved one, I cannot help but ponder the gravity of fuzziness and distress that must be going on in their heads.
Do they feel their presence even though they are dead? Are they terrified to stay alone knowing that their ghost might appear like in the movies?
Were there any signs of death apart from the sickness that was noticeable? Were there any last words? Should I ask them how they truly feel? Perhaps it wasn’t a loss for them but a relief? Should I ask them the real reason for their tears? Maybe they are mandated to cry after all!
I hate it whenever someone says during a funeral “Look at that one, she’s not even crying… She hasn’t cried the whole time”. For goodness sake! Is it now a cry competition? Do you know what’s in the heart?
I haven’t lost anyone so close before, and I hope I don’t come across as insensitive. These are the thoughts that go on in my head. Don’t get me wrong, I sincerely give my condolence, but trust me there’s more to every condolence than meets the eyes. So much more I wish I could ask.