GoT Recap, S8 Ep3: G’Night, King

 

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“WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE.”

You know how we do when it comes to battle episodes: To emoji battle at Winterfell!

There were about 14 minutes and exactly 45 English words spoken in the time before the White Walkers finally got on-screen. In those 14 minutes, we saw our favorite eyes get bigger and bigger with the anticipation of certain death — or did we? I couldn’t see a goddamn thing thanks to winter (it came! like a thick wool blanket dropped over our tv) and the moodiest of mood lighting.

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GOT Recap, S8 Ep2: Fireside Chats

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“Giant’s milk.”

With only four episodes left, we need to discuss something important: When a Game of Thrones moment lands. Throughout the series, the joke in our living room has been “Oh no, that was a really nice moment between him/her/them. DEATH IMMINENT.” But now we’re actually in Moment = Perish territory, and the moments happening — everywhere at Winterfell, between everyone — cannot be ignored. Every sweet word, meaningful look, frank conversation, bear hug — I wonder if George Arr! Arr! is setting me up and they’re destined for the Night King’s army aka Obliterating My Spirit Until Time Dies…which I guess is Bran now? It makes all these lovely moments feel like emotional traps and I don’t know how many panic attacks I can take in the next four weeks.

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GoT Recap, S8 Ep1: Dragons

 

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“I can show you the world…”

Roughly 595 days ago, I posted the Game of Thrones Season 7 finale recap, thinking we would never see the end of this series due to a Trump-related nuclear fallout, a George R. R. Martin-type setback, or simply death by anticipation — but we made it, friend-ohs. Seems like we should be rewarded for our never-ending patience with a brand new opening sequence. Reward granted!

Thoughts on the new opening sequence: ALL THE YESES. I love the upgrade, how they’re going deep into the interior of things (I think the Winterfell crypt is important this season), and that they’re tracking the undead army by turning white tiles into blue ones. Genius. Read more about what the production studio has in store for the credits here.

This first episode was one of reunions and revelations. The pace wasn’t as lightning fast as last season was — at least it didn’t feel like we were sprinting, merely trotting along with purpose — but I’ll be happier once the episodes go feature length, starting in Episode 3.

The first scenes, we saw the Unsullied, Dothraki, and two fully-grown dragons plus all the human throne hopefuls marching into Winterfell. Within 30 minutes, there was a Jon-Bran reunion, Jon-Arya, Tyrion-Sansa, Euron-Cersei, Bronn-Qyburn, and Yara-Theon. Shocking no one, Dany and Sansa are high school frenemies now. Bran is still pretty Bran, though more talkative than usual (from three words per episode to like…seven). Sansa and her ex-husband, the Imp, have an outdoor tete-a-tete. Qyburn tasks Bronn with revenge-murdering Tyrion for Cersei. Yara clocks Theon after he rescues her but they make up, Iron Islands-style. What is dead may never die.

Euron and Cersei predictably get it on because he’s the most arrogant man in the world and some women like that kind of thing. Especially when their other partner is a tender-hearted sibling who abandoned them to fight the undead. Also totally normal: Saying “I wanted those elephants” post-coitus while drinking red wine in a terrible wig.

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Heads of Mettle

It’s been a minute since I’ve been on this thing called “Blog” and I’ve sort of missed it, in the same harmless way I miss radio even though I primarily listen to Spotify now. This is somewhat ironic since I’m volunteering twice a week for local-to-global radio station, KEXP, and listening to more radio playlists than ever, albeit from inside the booth.

I recently wrote a guest post for the Faces of Fortitude blog and forgot to post it, so here it is for your reading pleasure, if “pleasure” for you includes tales of depression and suicide. True to form, it’s not all Debbie Downer because if I can’t laugh at myself, I’ll surely drown in my own fiery, fist-sized tears. I got some fairly dramatic messages after it went live; people will make stuff about them no matter what the topic, but the joke’s on them because I invented that move. Most of the messages were supportive and reminded me I have great people in my life, something that’s helpful during the inevitable low points of this biological adventure.  

Faces of Fortitude began as what I would describe as a self-healing heart project for Mariangela Abeo, a powerhouse friend I met around five years ago. Initially, I was just glad she’d found a creative outlet for the pain surrounding her brothers’ suicide and her own attempt in high school. But then the project spread, as heart projects do when it creates a space for others to be seen, to be heard, to heal; and now it’s on a trajectory that aims to help as many people as possible. I love watching friends step into their power and make big strides in the direction of their dreams. It seems like so many are doing that around me right now and I can’t help but be inspired by it*.

 

 

 

*Doing scary shit I can’t say out loud yet because of the aforementioned scary part

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Kick The Shit Out of Life

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Maria Semple, total badass & Yours Truly, lipstick-wearer

“Maria Semple has a total boner for your writing.” So said Katty, far and away the best part of the writing workshop we finished last month. Tom Skerritt was a fellow classmate, too, because my life is just a series of What The Fuck moments held together by carbs and decorative washi tape from the dollar store. I want to say meeting Katty was nice, a word that describes nothing and leads to other nothing-words like interesting or cool, but really, it was a relief. There is so much weight lifted when you meet a kindred spirit, someone you don’t have to be anyone else but yourself around, loudly and without apology; someone who gets your language and likes making fun of the same people. Our friendship was forged rather quickly — a satirical shotgun marriage, if you will, pregnant with a friendship baby who likes yelling fuck over various dessert items. She is a curly-haired, barely-contained East Coast tornado, which works since I’m a West Coast weather system trapped in a supermodel’s body.

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