What in the Game of Thrones

Oh, so that’s why Welles wrote Animal Farm.

that explains robin hood and transformers beast wars hmm

Or if they transform into animals in the case of Animorphs, which deals with teenagers experiencing the realities of war.

the WoF fandom is so annoying about this scene in particular and it discheeses me greatly. the actual scene is very vague, it’s essentially two sentences. one where Arctic is told to “show everyone who [he is], pour out [his] life onto the stage” and then the next sentence is just “it was messy and it took a whole, but by the end Arctic was dead”. it’s unnerving because it leaves a lot up to the imagination, and the concept is so gross and unsettling. but so many folks in the fandom act like Tui wrote 4 pages of descriptive dragon splatterpunk 😭😭

Mrs. Glendale was my Gifted Studies teacher in middle school. Gifted Studies class was a special and personalized program for gifted students who had high IQs and/or did exceedingly well in their main classes and needed more challenging and engaging instruction. During my middle school years, I underwent a pretty drastic transformation where I went from being your typical young boy who was loud, talkative, outgoing, and confident to a boy who was quiet, reserved, anxious, and filled with self-doubt about who he was and what he was capable of at home, on the playing fields, in school, and with his friends. My parents weren't getting along during those years and were fighting and yelling at each other a lot in a bad way and sometimes their troubled marriage and relationship began to involve me and I was caught in their crossfire, so-to-speak. My dad was unpredictable and angry and my mom was anxious and had trouble being a competent wife and mother to her kids. My home life wasn't always bad and those years were a mix of good and bad times but I would be lying if I said that it didn't all get to me and didn't make me sad, depressed, and withdrawn from my family, my friends, and nearly everyone in my life at times. Going through puberty at that age also made things even more awkward and difficult as well and I remember feeling like I needed help dealing with it all. Not much help was given to me and so much of my growing up and learning came as a result of trial and error and making mistakes that often hurt and got me down. Though I could feel alone at times, whenever I was in Mrs. Glendale's class I felt happy and felt like I belonged and could do anything and be anyone. Mrs. Glendale was the first person to really help me care about learning and she did this by making learning fun. In her class we learned about the Cold War, the founding of America, and about all sorts of art periods throughout history among other fun and fascinating topics. She used to have my peers and I paint in class and create our own artwork while she played classical music for us and fed us cookies and brownies that she used to make for our class at least once a week. I enjoyed our time together and the painting sessions so much that I saved one of my favorite paintings and still have it after all of these years. While she played classical music from the likes of Beethoven, Mozart, and Bach frequently while she taught us and while we painted, there was one song that she loved to play from time to time that was more modern. The song was Vincent by Don McLean and it was her favorite song. I heard it for the first time in her class and it instantly became one of my favorite songs as well and one that I taught myself to play on my guitar over the years. Throughout middle school, whenever I was feeling down about things and alone, Vincent was a song that I would quietly listen to in my room to help me relax and forget about my problems. I was thankful that whenever things weren't great at home, I could see Mrs. Glendale and my classmates at least twice a week and that escape and wonderful environment is something that in hindsight helped me to focus on the good parts of my life and myself while other parts around me were slowly spinning out of control. To this day, Mrs. Glendale stands as my favorite and most important teacher and I owe so much of my happiness and myself to her and that class of hers from years ago. Mrs. Glendale died two years ago. She was 77. Last year I visited family out in a beautiful, rural part of my state. This area was where Mrs. Glendale used to take my class for field trips at a nice art museum. She must have taken us there half a dozen times over the years and I hadn't been to the museum since my last days in her class during middle school. On my way home I decided to drop by the museum for an hour since I wasn't doing anything later that night and I enjoyed taking the time to look around at all of the paintings that I used to love when I was a kid. My favorite painting was always of this giant bear and it's little bear beside it and I was glad to see it still hanging on the museum's walls. It was a nice Fall day and so I went outside to sit on a nice bench by this creek that we used to take a class photo by each time that we visited the museum. There were leaves falling everywhere and the Sun shining off the water and it was a scene that Van Gogh and his contemporaries would have loved to have been able to take in and maybe paint to their liking if they were still with us. It was a scene that Mrs. Glendale would have loved, too.

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Then you aren't a person my child, I'm sorry you had to find out this way

Well, the author isn't very good with character, plot, dialogue, structure, tone, or prose, but I was very impressed by the way his novel resembled a CIA Worldbook for yet another pseudo-medieval kingdom, occasionally interspersed with a list of house rules for Magic The Gathering.

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