Mischief Managed

Well I guess it is time to discuss Thor: The Dark World. It's been a week since I first watched it, and maybe this is a late review, but in all honesty I have been busy. Namely by going to see it three times already.

I say already because I'm not opposed to seeing it for a forth time. (c'mon, the DVD release is months away.) Obsessive much? Perhaps. Or perhaps everyone I know was just so eager to see it and knew I wouldn't say no.
I don't even know where to begin? It was wall to wall packed full of awesome. We laughed, we gasped, we clapped.
I was unfortunate enough to be spoiled by some bitch on twitter, and I am also aware that it's not out yet in the rest of the world, so I'm reluctant to say much about the actual plot.
I will, however, say that I am in two minds whether it is as good as or even better than the first one...no, I'm actually not, it out-stripes the first one for the reason: Loki.
While Thor was Thor's movie (obviously) The Dark World is Loki's. He is the passion, the heart and a good proportion of the humour. Behind me, beside me and in front of me, there was someone still giggling at a line or two of Loki's by the end of the film. My nine year old nephew's new catchphrase is "Ta-dah." Hell, it's mine now too :-)

Orange

I am currently eating an orange and its as bitter as my soul.
I mention this solely because I'm taking a quick snack break from my neo-Assyrian rule in Israel and Judah essay, and when your typing with one finger on one hand, sometimes you can only state the obvious.
When I am finished with my sour orange orb and made a good dent into my essay I will delve into how awesome Thor: The Dark World was and is. Or perhaps I'll do it now because IT WAS COMPLETE AWESOME!!!! Then again, I do kinda want to pass college this year. Boo-urns!

God of Thunder

It's been a long time since I've believed in Santy, yet I still recall the excited nights Sean and I would spend glancing out the windows, running wildly about upstairs in our brand new pyjamas, all expectant and wide awake.

Oh that excitement was fun! And sadly bouts of wild giddiness don't come around yearly for me anymore. Now they come around when a new Thor is due to hit the big screen. Ye-oh!
That's right, this time tomorrow I will be purchasing my popcorn and my coke and getting set for a Thor double-bill - or more importantly, LOKI double-bill. Yum yum! - and a return to Asgard.

I am RIDICULOUSLY excited for this. Like, so beyond excited that if excitement was a line in the sand, I'm so far beyond it, the line is a dot to me. (I love that Joey Tribiani quote and have always wanted to use it.)

We bought our tickets ages ago so really, I should be grand - I've waited this long, right?! - yet tomorrow isn't coming fast enough for my liking! I cannot wait to slip on my Loki Charms T-Shirt and kick back and watch the god of Thunder kick dark-elven ass!

*tumbleweed*

There have been no new posts lately simply because there is nothing new happening. I'm still struggling to keep up with college work. Still looking forward to the Thor double bill (eight days and counting.) I'm still watching films and reading books. And it's still raining.
What's really odd is the fact that this isn't my first blog. (The others are now defunct - I put them on permanent hiatus by way of privacy settings when I started this one up.) But yet, despite having less going on in my life while keeping them, I updated more often. Practically daily, in fact.

I never had much to say, in all fairness, but I did have moans. A lot of moans. And I made a decision when I began Moonlight Quill not to bring over all that pessimism. Now, as it turns out, I've nothing without them. I'm one big moaning Michael, to steal a line from Father Ted.

I might rehash an old theme I used on my old, old blog. Weekly I will write about a subject that I love most.
(I like that idea, it gives me an excuse to babble on about John Frusciante. Which is never a bad thing.)

Bridge to Terabithia

*Spoiler Alert* From The Beginning*

Oh God, why? Why? Why did I watch this movie?
I was so very underprepared. I thought it was a sweet kiddie film of fantasy and friendship. I didn't expect to cry for ten minutes straight when Leslie died. Why did she have to die???? It was like this generations My Girl. Trauma. Major trauma.
*suck it up, be a woman.*
Okay, okay, I'm good now, I promise.

This was one of those films I didn't see in the cinema, I remember it, I just didn't have any interest in seeing it. Stumbling upon it on my sisters Netflix I decided that a fun adventure is what Sunday afternoons are all about.

BoT is not what is says on the tin, or to put it more appropriately, not how it looks in the trailer. It was less fantasy, more lonely boy struggling to find his place in the midst of an all sister family and a cranky ass father who seemed to show more favouritism to his daughters than his son, (I don't know, perhaps it was in a 'because he's a boy, and boys don't need outwardly shows of emotion *flexes muscle*' way?)
His way of escaping comes in the form of Leslie, the new and kooky girl next door. Together they explore their area, imaging the fantasy kingdom, Terabithia, and encountering all its self-imagined mythical creatures. These creatures resembling the issues facing the duo in school and at home.

As stated above, Leslie dies. *quiet sob* No killer bees that saw off Thomas Jay, though, (thus giving me a life long fear of bee-stings, btw) but an accident with the rope Leslie and Jesse used to enter Terabithia (cue a generation frightened of rope-swings) while J wasn't there. Cue survivors guilt from Jesse and hysterical sobbing from me. These films should really come with a warning for emotionally fragile dopes like myself!
And reading back through that, it comes across like I didn't like the film. On the contrary, I loved it. While it lacked the fantasy and much of the adventure I had been expecting, it more than made up for it in heart. Even before the killer emotional punch at the end.

Uni

Everyone always says to me, 'Oh, Trinity. I bet it's just like Hogwarts!' Unfortunately I have to tell them no, 'it is more like Stasi headquarters.'
I'm both English and Ancient Near East departments which places me the majority of the time in the Arts building. It's a dreary aul place. Narrow corridors, grey walls and small classrooms that are equally grey.
This year has seen a change in my classrooms though. I get to have one of my Jews in the Medieval Period in the Museum Building.

The Entrance Hall of the Museum Building

Four others are in Regent House. I've no pictures of Regent House, but allow the name to say it all.

As lecture theatres go, Regent House is the worse possible place for class. Bad acoustics means it's nigh on impossible to hear the lecturer if you're not sitting in the front three rows. It has also got the worse possible chairs for a bad back. But what they do have is two, count them, two bolted panels in the walls. The smallest one is within the heart of the large fireplace. The other stands just to its right.
I've no idea where either go. I can only conclude that one is a short-cut to Hogwarts (it is in the fireplace, after all. Floo network, anyone?!) the other, a doorway to Narnia. It's a reasonable enough theory and not flawed at all, right?

Blackberry Way

It's been a hazy, misty week this week. That type of weather in which it doesn't rain, yet you somehow get home soaked to the skin. That clammy kind of wet. It's hard on your chest and you begin to cough like you're a 40-a-day smoker.
Yes, I know, I'm discussing the weather. How utterly boring I am?!

In my defence, it has put a dampener on my most favourite aspect of this time of year: blackberry picking.
Illness prevented it last week. The week before, holiday. This week it also looks a bust because of the fog and rain. I am sad. If I can't get to go soon, the season will be over.

Blackberry picking was a thing I loved to do as a kid. I still have fond memories of it.
My eldest brother would bring us. We would be mucked up to the eyeballs, hands black from the juice and pockets full of conkers that we'd find along the way. The smell of fire fermented the air as smoke rose from chimney-pots in the near distance. And the aroma of stew would hit you the second you stepped over the threshold of home, leaving your muddy boots in the porch.