My Top Five (Maybe) TV OTPs: A Valentine's Day Post

Hello.

So, yeah. So far I'm not really excelling at the whole "blogging" thing.

Valentine's Day was four days ago, and I'm just now today getting to my commemorative post. Also, I have a great idea for a post inspired by a book I finished reading at the end of January. (Shifts awkwardly in chair.) Yeah, that should be showing up sometime in the next few days.

I hope.

Anyway, Valentine's Day. The day of love. The day for getting roses and chocolates, teddy bears and fancy cards.

Or, if you're awesome like me, the day of going over to your best friend's house and marathon-watching all six episodes of the 1995 BBC Pride & Prejudice (a hangout complete with dress-up clothes, tea, and a basement elaborately outfitted in Austenian finery).

We win.

For a while, I wondered what I should blog about to honor this surprisingly significant holiday. For a while, I thought I could write about the aforementioned hangout, but really there isn't much else to say about it that would relate to Valentine's. I thought perhaps I could analyze Valentine's Day's origins, or question why Valentine's Day was always the most important day of the year at the high school I briefly attended, but neither of those options seemed to have much to do with fiction. Then I thought I could compose an elaborate treatise outlining my feelings on recent portrayals of romance in fictional stories, but such a post struck me as daunting and I therefore allowed days to pass without venturing to begin writing.

Finally, I realized I'd have to get on it if I really wanted to have a romantically-inspired post posted anywhere near February 14th. So I decided, "What the heck, I'll just tell them my top 5 television OTPs".

Now, for those not "in the know", OTP stands for One True Pairing, or the one fictional couple whom, above all others, you want to see live happily ever after. Technically, you're only supposed to have one, but I think there are few fangirls with the emotional and psychological maturity required to accurately to pick favorites. I, like many proud fiction obsessives, have many OTPs (so I suppose I should just refer to them as TPs, but that sounds a bit odd, so I'm just leaving the O on).

The reason that this list is my top five TV OTPs is that if I was selecting OTPs from all fictional mediums I would never succeed in narrowing the list down to five. The reason for the "maybe" in the title is that I selected very quickly and went with early instincts because I want to get this posted as soon as possible, and thus this list might be completely recast and/or reordered by tomorrow morning. But now I'm rambling.

And so, without further ado, my top five (as of this moment) TV OTPs.

5. Sherlock and Molly

 

These two were ranked much higher in my mind before Series 3 aired, as Series 3 contained a few developments in Molly's character that annoyed me to no end. But in the first two series, Molly was a sweetheart, starstruck by Sherlock's brilliance and glorious black curls (not that she ever actually says that, I'm just making assumptions), who was painfully awakened to our poor inept protagonist's none-too-gentle qualities. But even after that, Molly continued as Sherlock's readiest helper, and the end of Series 2 seemed to indicate that Sherlock thought more highly of Molly than we few Sherlolly enthusiasts had ever dared to hope. Even in Series 3 I found things I could approve of, and I continue to hold a dreadfully forlorn but ruthlessly stubborn hope that we'll get some movements in a romantic direction in future episodes.

4. George Crabtree and Emily Grace

 

This pairing is possibly the most random one on this list (possibly; you haven't gotten to number three yet). They're from a criminally under-watched Canadian crime show called "Murdoch Mysteries". Crabtree is (in my opinion) one of the best characters on the show, goofy, awkward, and thoroughly adorable. Dr. Grace is a brilliant assistant medical examiner introduced at the beginning of Season 5. By the end of that season, it seemed like George was finally making some real headway with his strong-willed crush. I have yet to see Season 6, but I'm hoping to see a lot more scenes with these two. :)

3. The Ninth and/or Tenth Doctor and Mrs. Who

 

Firstly: Mrs. Who is a character from the book A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle. Secondly: Yes this idea only came to me because her name is Mrs. Who. Thirdly: Despite the fact that there is no foundation whatsoever for this idea except that her name is Mrs. Who (which doesn't really even count for much) a very interesting fanfiction could conceivably be written for them. After all, Mrs. Who is an inter-dimensional being capable of traveling through time and space and across universes. She also, in the movie at least (deep dark confession: I haven't read the book in a long time) speaks mostly in quotes from famous authors, a method of communication not entirely foreign to The Doctor. It is reasonable to assume that, were their paths to cross somewhere out in space, The Doctor would be fascinated by this remarkable creature, and Mrs. Who would be awed and impressed by this not-quite-human madman with his box. Plus, Mrs. Who, like The Doctor, has an incredibly long lifespan. Mrs. Who could travel with The Doctor indefinitely, experiencing the joy and pain and sheer dark enormousness of the universes with him, always sharing her own unique perspectives on the sights they saw.

So it's farfetched. Just remember that it is a generally accepted unwritten rule of the fandom community that one does not question another's OTP.

2. Merlin and Freya

 

Freya appears in just two episodes of the show "Merlin". Hers is a tragic story. She's cursed, lonely, outcast, and drowning in self-hatred. But, unexpectedly, into her life shines a bright glimmer of hope and acceptance in the form of Merlin, a young and innocent boy hiding a secret almost as dreadful and just as deadly as Freya's. In a way, he saves her life, and she irrevocably changes his. It's sad, it's powerful, it's way too short, and it's my favorite love story on "Merlin". There's not really much else to say about it.

Now, before we get to number one, let me just say that honorable mentions include (but are not limited to) Gisbourne and Meg from "Robin Hood", The Eleventh Doctor and Clara Oswin Oswald, Amy and Rory Pond, Amy Pond and Vincent Van Gogh, and Kensi and Deeks from "NCIS: Los Angeles".

But on to number one.

1. The Ninth and/or Tenth and/or Eleventh and/or War Doctor and Rose

Hi. I'm predictable.

Really, what is there to say about these two? They're great. They go perfectly together.

The Doctor first meets Rose shortly after his regeneration into his ninth form. He rarely shows it, but he's emotionally damaged, not to mention guilt-stricken, by the recent Time War. He's not the same brightly attired, generally cheerful alien made famous in Classic Who.

Rose changes all that. Rose gives him a reason to travel again (a reason besides saving worlds, that is). She turns him back into an explorer. She shows him that he still has a purpose and that there are still beautiful things scattered across the galaxies. By the time he's wearing his tenth face, he's also thrown away his all-black, leathery attire and replaced it with a jaunty suit and bright red shoes. On his part, The Doctor shows Rose the expanse of existence, the life beyond the shop she's dreamed of. At his side, Rose Tyler becomes a heroine of her own epic story, the saver of worlds, the host of the time vortex, the witness of history. Meeting each other ultimately leads to horrible pain for both of them; but without each other, neither one would ever have succeeded in becoming all that they could be.

So there you have it. Five wonderful pairings.

I belatedly wish you all a very happy Valentine's Day.

~Pearl Clayton 

   

Him of All Men - The Beginning of Many Months of Thought

Last Sunday, I saw the Sherlock series 3 finale (I would've written about it before now, but I've been unwell). Titled His Last Vow and penned by Steven Moffat, a man famous for inflicting various kinds of pain on his longsuffering devotees, this episode was most anxiously entered in upon. But it did not disappoint, and, at least in my opinion, it caused more joy than pain.


I've been struggling to decide what to blog about in the heady aftermath of last week's episode. Let's see, I said to myself. Should my post be just focused on His Last Vow, or should I debrief the whole season? Should I talk about the excellent writing? The directing? The heroic leanings that Sherlock possesses to which only he is blind? Mind palaces? An exploration of the causes, justifications, and effects of dishonesty?


This is an incredibly psychologically, artistically, and emotionally complex show that deserves to be lauded for its many superiorities and discussed for the complicated issues that it often introduces. The task of choosing the topic which can be used to most thoroughly explore the high points of this series and episode proved to be far from easy.


So, in the end, I went with a title naming an idea which I think reaches all the way back to the first episode - Him of All Men.


In A Study in Pink, Sherlock's premiere episode, John Watson, a war veteran known to be suffering from trust issues, is asked, "Could it be that you have decided to trust Sherlock Holmes, of all people?" And indeed, as the show's drama unfolds, it becomes clear that John Watson has chosen for his best, closest, and most trusted friend the socially inept, supposedly sociopathic, insensitive, and unpredictable Sherlock Holmes.

Him of all men.


Likewise, surrounded by people he feels incapable of understanding, respecting, or caring for even remotely, Sherlock chooses to be Watson's protector. Throughout the course of the nine episodes, Sherlock places John's interests further and further before his own, vowing to do whatever it takes to guard Watson and his family from all that would seek to harm them, and delivering on his promise. Concern for his friend, for John Watson, is enough to shatter Sherlock's composure and lead him to acknowledge his shortcomings. It's probably even enough to drag Sherlock back from death's door.


Him of all men.


Of all men, Sherlock is chosen by Jim Moriarty as an ideal sparring partner, the perfect foil to Jim's schemes.


Of all men, Sherlock becomes the obsession of the emotionally detached Irene Adler.


After years of facing all manner of psychopaths and all forms of soulless despicability, Sherlock is most disgusted by Charles Magnusson, a comparatively harmless newsman who keeps situations going the way he wants them to through skilled blackmailing.


Him of all men.


It is in instances like these that the masterfulness of the show shines through especially clearly. Each one of these choices, the isolation of one above all else, creates conflict, character development, and questions to be pondered. Why does John choose to trust Sherlock? Why does Sherlock so greatly abhor Magnusson? What is the difference between Magnusson and the other criminal masterminds who seem more to fascinate the great detective than incite him?

The stories are intricately woven, with obvious cooperation between the three writers leading to great foreshadowing and continuity. To watch these writers (Steven Moffat in particular) talk about their scripts and storylines is immensely enjoyable. They obviously glean so much excitement, satisfaction, and fulfillment from this show that their enthusiasm becomes unavoidably infectious. The devotion to original Doyle plots and dialogues and painstakingly exact transference of the classics into a modern setting provide more evidence of the creators' love of Doyle's work even than their own fanboy testimonies. They chose Sherlock as their hero, as the character they would recreate and revitalize in the most skilled and respectful way possible, and even if it does take them a ridiculously long amount of time they have and will continue to faithfully and awesomely depict him in his newest setting.


Him of all men.






These are just a few of many things our poor fandom will have to think about over the coming long months and possibly even years of the third hiatus. While the show heads have mentioned an ideal release date of this Christmas for series 4 (which would be BEYOND amazing, by the way) they all seem doubtful that such a "short" hiatus will actually be accomplishable. Moffat has apparently said more recently that it's more likely we won't be getting new episodes or a resolution to our shiny new cliffhanger until 2016.


I've said it before, I'll say it again: This ain't an easy fandom to be in. But we Sherlockians will stick with it to whatever end. Why?


Because this character, this flawed, often irritating, more often awkward and insensitive character, is one we have chosen to devote ourselves to. We'll wait it out, we'll wait out every hiatus, because we know that at the end of the wait he'll be back to make us laugh, make us ache, make us cheer, make us cringe, and come out a better, more developed character that we can root for.

I know I sound like a broken record. Say it with me anyway:


Him of all men.
~Pearl Clayton 
     

The Kingdom of Sherlock: An Explanatory Discourse

Last week, I posted a rather cryptic, italicized blogpost talking about the kingdom of Sherlock. While I am quite pleased with this particular post, I acknowledged to myself while writing it that to an outsider unfamiliar with the television show Sherlock, it wouldn't make much sense. Admittedly, I don't have a very extensive readership and the majority of my readers are familiar with the show, but I figured I might as well do an explanatory follow-up post anyway. And there are other things to talk about.....




In 2009, Robert Downey Jr. starred in a wild, crazy, slow-motion-packed, artistic, and well-received movie, Sherlock Holmes. To the best of my knowledge, it had been some time since the last reimagining of the character, but evidently Downey's reinterpretation was awesome enough to spark a new Sherlock frenzy in the fiction-following public. Just a year after the Downey movie, Sherlock began airing on the BBC.


(There would be a picture here, but Google is being moody and won't let me put one in.) (Although probably you'd already figured out that Google is being moody if you noticed the wonky spacing and other formatting issues of my last few posts.) (I hate Google, by the way.)







Arguably one of the most creative adaptions of Arthur Conan Doyle's stories yet, Sherlock takes place in the modern world, with nicotine patches replacing pipes, a blog replacing stories published in magazines, and advanced microscopes and analysis machines replacing Sherlock's famous mishmash of test tubes and metal rods. Too modern to call each other "Holmes" and "Watson", the two main characters go by Sherlock and John; yet in spite of these radical changes, the plotlines still manage to remain impressively similar to Doyle's, with each episode finding its inspiration in one of the most famous stories. Four years later, the show has gained a massive, devoted fandom, critical acclaim, a few prestigious awards, and even its very own cruddy American rip-off, Elementary (featuring a short, blond, bearded Sherlock Holmes and an Asian-American female Watson) (I wish I was kidding).




Well, there're the facts. Now on to the opinions.




Ahem.



I. LOVE. THIS. SHOW.




At the current moment, I can find nothing whatsoever on this show to sincerely complain about. I'll see and hear various people commenting on Sherlock's "sociopathic" behaviors, saying he's cruel or dysfunctional or what-have-you, and I can only look at them quizzically. I hear people gripe about the writing, complaints like "It's so sad!" or "It's corny!" or "It's not like this in the books!" and I can only shake my head and wonder what's wrong with some people. I could go on. The point is, I love the writing and the directing, the sets and the acting. And the CHARACTERS. Sherlock. Moriarty. Mycroft. John. They're all simply perfect.




But believe me when I say that being a fan of Sherlock is no easy fate.




The three episodes of Series 1 aired, as I mentioned previously, in 2010. Series 2's three episodes weren't released until 2012. Both series ended in cliffhangers. While I hold the minority opinion that Series 1's cliffhanger was rather more stressful than Series 2's, I wasn't as much of a fan of the show when I first saw Series 1. In fact, while I always loved the show, I didn't really get thoroughly obsessed with it until last summer, when I introduced it to my best friend, Aloisa. Since then, we've been waiting impatiently along with the rest of the fandom for the arrival of Series 3 and the resolution of Series 2's dreadful finale.



Series 3, Episode 1, "The Empty Hearse", debuted in America a week ago today at 10 p.m. Aloisa came over a few hours before the episode started, and we spent the interim time trying to remain calm (as if that was ever going to happen) before finally breathlessly settling in with Kit-Kats and hot chocolate to watch.




Maybe it was because we were watching together, or maybe it was because of the excitement, or maybe it was just a magnificent episode. Whatever the case, I think that as of right now "The Empty Hearse" is my favorite episode of Sherlock. But who knows. Maybe that opinion will change tonight.
Episode 2, "The Sign of Three", starts in just over three hours. SQUEE.




I guess I haven't really explained why being a Sherlock fan is so difficult, so I'll get to it now: each series of Sherlock is only three episodes, with long hiatuses in between. This last hiatus was especially long, thanks to the involvement of stars Benedict the Brilliant and Martin the Magnanimous in the Hobbit movies (which are good enough that I can almost forgive them) (almost). The excessive joy that comes from finally seeing new episodes is somewhat dampened whenever I accidentally remember the fact that a mere week from today we'll be handed a new cliffhanger and go right back to desperately waiting for new episodes.




I read an article a few days ago that mentioned the words of Steven Moffat, one of the show's writers and creators, who reportedly said at some point that a series of Sherlock will never be more than three episodes, because, supposedly since each episode is about ninety minutes, making an episode of Sherlock is like making a movie.




By that logic, us lazy Americans with our twenty-two or twenty-four-episode seasons are cranking out eleven or twelve movies (since American television shows are forty-five minutes long) every year, while you're making three movies every other year.




I kind of have a love-hate relationship with Steven Moffat.




But I choose not to think about that now.




Instead, I am now going to commence my anticipation of another night of excitement, hot chocolate, Kit-Kat consumption, and glorious fangirling.




Long live Sherlock.




~Pearl Clayton


    

The Kingdom of Sherlock

Come, gather 'round, and I'll tell you a story.


Once, a long while ago, a great kingdom called Sherlock was built. Its many joyful inhabitants were ruled by a king, Sherlock himself, and a prince, called John. There were other lesser royals, but these two were the true leaders. Their reigns were built on laughter and camaraderie, heroics and triumphant victories.


But there were dark games afoot.


Overtime, another man, James, arose from the shadows with his own murky claims to the kingship. His motives were unquestionably of a cruel nature, but he was persuasive, and soon not only knights and deputies but even some of the citizens of Sherlock began rallying behind his bloodstained banner. Sherlock, John, and their still-loyal followers all began slowly to fear.


What few knew was that none of this was transpiring by accident.


Far away, hidden behind layers of lies and illusion, resided the three true rulers of the kingdom: Moffat, the Second Grand High Emperor of another kingdom known as Doctor Who; Lord Gatiss, Moffat's closest and most trusted friend and advisor; and Chancellor Thompson, a mysterious and unpredictable figure of fluctuating motives. Lost in their sheets of impenetrable mystery, the three plotted and wrote out the destinies of Sherlock's rulers, controlling each of every move of the great game as they carried it all too swiftly to the terrible conclusion they had planned for it.


And so, at last, one dark Midwinter night, their plot unfolded in a tumbling whirlwind of unforeseen tragedy. In one moment, Kings Sherlock and James were gone, Prince John left unfit for rule, and the kingdom collapsed into an endless Charybdis of insanity. Moffat, Gatiss, and Thompson sat back and watched with ever-increasing satisfaction as the citizens of Sherlock waited, confused, shellshocked, leaderless, growing evermore lost and desperate for some word, some glimpse, of their leaders. As the years passed, the citizens refused to let their hopes fade, but this became a greater challenge with each passing day.


But now, they are returning.


Tonight, long after sunset, Sherlock will be back, triumphant, carrying his banner, and we, we humble Sherlockians, shall welcome him with open arms.


I am Pearl Clayton, proud citizen of the kingdom of Sherlock.


And it's time.

On Disneyland

Greetings, readers.


On Saturday, I arrived home from a weeklong stay at my grandfather's house in California. You know those moments in time that end and you can't believe they're already over, but when you look back on everything that transpired in them you wonder how they could possibly feel so short? This trip was one of those moments. I feel like I only just left home until I really stop and think about all we did. It was amazing, seeing grandpa, wading in the ocean, visiting San Diego, etc., but the high point of the trip was probably the two days we spent at Disneyland and California Adventure (for those not in the "know", California Adventure is a second amusement park situated across a courtyard from Disneyland).


Even before we left for California, I knew I wanted to write a post about Disneyland. The only question was what to write. I'm going to go ahead and start with the highlights. They included:


- Walking on to Splash Mountain (and I mean seriously walking on, we waited for a total of maybe 30 seconds at the loading area) (and if you've ever been to Disneyland and ridden Splash Mountain, you know what a shockingly awesome occurrence that is)
- A completely unplanned and unexpected singalong with a pirate band on the raft ride back from Tom Sawyer's island (Tom Sawyer's island was a sort of "what the hey, let's just go check it out" detour while we waited for some Fast Passes to become valid, but boy were we glad we went; there was an upright bassist, a fiddler, a guitarist, and a flutist, all very talented, who led the crowded raft in a call-and-response drinking song that my whole family's been singing off-and-on ever since)
- Going into Innovations for the first time ever and about having a full-on fangirl spasm right there in front of everybody because of the lifesize replicas of every Ironman suit prominently featured in the movies (forgetful person that I am, it wasn't until the second day that I remembered Disney owns Marvel)
- Sitting on a garden hose while looking up at the place the hose connected to the water supply and feeling roughly two millimeters tall (but more on that later)
- My souvenir (I'll get back to that too)


But now on to what this post is actually going to be about. I don't remember exactly when the idea hit me, but it was sometime in the course of the first morning, and I've been mentally building this post since (in other words, it had better be good).


Throughout the two days, my father and grandfather (but especially my grandfather) often joked about the parks' miserliness, and I joined in. My dad shared his experience of being able to produce only $12.55 of a $12.57 bill and having to use a card instead of cash because the cashier refused to float him the two cents. "Well, dad, keep in mind that this is a struggling small business," I said. "They have to redeem every penny they can." We all laughed. This is how I communicate with my family: in jokes and good-natured mockery and sarcasm. I'm glad of it and I love them for it, but I'll confess there were times I felt a bit depressed by the picture we were painting. Disneyland is supposed to be the happiest place on Earth, not some uncompromising money-hoarding machine. In half the souvenir shops I ducked into, I overheard someone commenting on the prices of the items for sale, and frankly I agreed with them. Disneyland and California Adventure's tickets and purchasable items and food and everything are far from cheap, and oftentimes seem ridiculously overpriced. Add in other things, like the fact that characters from Disney's animated films have been added to the It's A Small World ride (which really annoys me much more than it should), or that some beautiful statues of Arial and Triton have been removed from the area in front of Fantasyland to make room for the weird Pixie Hollow walkthrough (random unnecessary aside: I hate the Pixie Hollow movies and if I ever watch one all the way through, it will only be The Pirate Fairy and it will only be because Tom Hiddleston is voicing Hook in that movie). To deviate from the park itself for a moment, the Disney Channel is a horrifying mess, and in my opinion even the animated films are gradually losing their innocence and magic.


In short, it feels like Disney is losing its soul.


But this week, in the park, despite all my joshing and irritation, I refused to believe that. It sure does a lot to convince me, but I simply will not view the Disney franchise as a corporate sellout. Not yet. After all, isn't one of Disney's big ideas looking beyond the appearance of things? Heck, my favorite animated Disney movie, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, is all about that. (Come to think of it, my second favorite animated Disney movie, Wreck-It Ralph, basically is as well. Do you think that says something deeply profound about my psyche?) (Second random unnecessary aside: when are they adding a Hunchback ride to Disneyland? I WANT A HUNCHBACK RIDE. Or attraction. Or SOMETHING.) (But I digress.)


I think that my favorite place in all of Disneyland is an easily missed little niche tucked it on one side of Sleeping Beauty's castle. It's not a ride or an "attraction", it's not a shop or a show. It's just a waterfall, decorated with finely made white statues of Snow White and the seven dwarfs. In the pool that the fall tumbles into, three stone fish on a simple mechanism pop out of the water, spin in a few circles while spouting fountains from their mouths, re-submerge, and repeat. On the walkway in front of the waterfall is a wishing well clearly modeled after the one at the beginning of Snow White that always has a layer of coins covering its floor. Painted around the top of the well is the inscription "Your wishes go to help children everywhere", referencing Disney's custom of donating all the money collected in the parks' various water features to charities.


Really, you could look at this little area as Disneyland's soul. Here it houses its beginning, Snow White, and here it houses its promises, its themes of charity and love and, perhaps most importantly, of wishes. Because, at it's heart, that's what Disneyland is. It's a wish, it's a dream, born in the mind of one of the most brave and imaginative people ever to change the world, grown and embodied and evolved over the years into the massive presence it is now. It's changed, and it's darkened, and it's lost some of its magic; such is the cost of existing in our world. But deep down, in its center, it's still just the beautiful realization of a wish, and as long as that niche exists in Disneyland, I will be incapable of seeing it as anything otherwise.


Now, I know this post is already insanely long, but I'm only about halfway done, so grab a drink or something and sit tight, because all that money is actually recognizing something, or really two very similar somethings: creativity and genius.


As I said a few paragraphs ago, one of my highlights was sitting on a garden hose and feeling two millimeters tall. That happened in California Adventure, in a section of the park the name of which I suddenly can't remember that is based on the movie A Bug's Life. A short journey through a structure that looks exactly like the inside of a cereal box deposits visitors in a world of straws twice the height of humans and lights fashioned to look like lightning bugs. The gigantic garden hose winds all over. One section of it is clearly meant to serve as a bench, winding around the place the hose connects to the ground, where a few tiny "leaks" spray water all over the ground, creating a play fountain that no child could resist romping in (a fact I saw evidence of when a small boy came by and stared in wonder at it before running through the water). We came to this place on the afternoon of the first day. By that time, I was growing tired and my feet were growing unbearably achy, so I seated myself comfortably on the hose and just started at the tiny waterfalls while munching on a churro. After a while, I really did feel tiny.


Also in California Adventure is the newly constructed Carsland. I have no love whatsoever for the movie Cars and was far from enthusiastic about the idea of visiting a land based on it, but even I had to admit I was impressed by the flawless replication of Radiator Springs that I entered. I felt like I was walking into a movie. I had the same feeling while waiting in line for the Indiana Jones ride; the sets and props are unarguably masterfully made. There are even more examples, like the animatronics in the Fantasyland-style rides of both parks. The It's a Small World ride was completely redesigned, inside and outside, for the holiday season. Disneyland's main street, from the layout to the false fronts, looks just how I imagine an old-style city. California Adventure's main street is a perfect recreation of an early twentieth century California street.  And do I even need to mention the freakin' French Quarter? The designers and architects employed by Disney are undoubtedly people of great creativity, ingenuity, perfectionism, and above all dedication, and, in my opinion, the admission price is excusable, because by paying it we pay homage to their hard work.


The souvenir I selected from California Adventure reflects a similar idea. It's a book of paintings, sketches, and digital renderings of the Disney princesses. Some of them are excellent copies of the original animation. Others are complete reimaginings. One drawing depicts Aurora leaning down to waken a sleeping Prince Phillip. Another shows Belle in an armored yellow jumpsuit balancing on the shoulder of a massive robotic Beast. Elsewhere in the book, Belle appears in a painting modeled on a famous painting of Madame Pompadour (the fact that I'm a Whovian immediately made this one one of my favorite images in the book). If I had to choose an overall favorite painting, I would find it quite a difficult choice, but I might select the extremely colorful and stylistic one of Mulan which I believe is intended to reflect traditional Chinese artwork, or perhaps the cover drawing in which the outline of Snow White's face is made with flower buds and leaves. Whatever my favorite, each image is beautiful, even the ones I dislike. Why?


Because each is a celebration of creativity and originality and new ideas, which I think is and always has been the Disney Company's point. They take old stories and change them and release them, for better or for worse, but certainly for forever. For all its commercialism and expense, Disneyland is still beautiful, because Disneyland is brilliant. It's movies made real and fairytales made believable. Disneyland is a dream, a thousand dreams, all come true.


I guess that's why they call it the happiest place on Earth.


~Pearl Clayton

Year's Demise, Year's Beginning

I debated a long time about what I should say in my New Year's Day post. The fact is, I knew it wouldn't exactly be a happy post if I shared exactly what was on my mind. See, on first thought, the idea of 2014 doesn't really make me happy. At first glance, yesterday, as the hours too quickly ticked on toward midnight, I could see only the endings. Another year gone. More opportunities lost. More dreams dead. More dust. More decay. More despair. Well, I couldn't very well post about that. This is supposed to be a happy blog.

So I started trying to think of all the things I had to look forward to this year, and here were the first things that popped into my head: A trip to Disneyland. Sherlock series 3. Two Marvel movies. How to Train Your Dragon 2. A Barnes & Noble giftcard which I shall soon use to purchase books which I will then read. Why, this year I'll finally read several books I've been meaning to read for a long time.

So then I thought, yeesh, Pearl. Are you looking forward to anything that isn't based around some fictional world?

And then I thought..... no, I don't believe I am. And there's absolutely nothing wrong with that.

I've already talked about this a little in some earlier posts, but I might as well bring it back up. I love fiction because it makes me happy. Reading about the triumphs of characters who technically don't exist but might as well helps me get through bad days. Watching their triumphs play out on screens, accompanied by dazzling visuals and stirring soundtracks, makes me feel even better. Fiction brings on invigorating laughter and cleansing sobs and delighted fangirly shrieks. It causes a feeling of wellness in times of illness and happiness in times of sadness. I ride through life in a haze of stories, those created by others and those created by me, because I cannot imagine how I'd manage any other way. Against all odds, the anticipation of new movies and books and Sherlock and Disneyland have made me excited for 2014.

Welcome to the new year.

It's going to be a great one.

~Pearl Clayton 

Christmas Media, or Why I Hate Libraries

I hate libraries.

They should be renamed Hives of Temptation, or at least post signs outside their buildings that say things like, "WARNING! This building poses extreme danger to your current reading list! If you have a set plan concerning the books you're going to read over the following months, STAY AWAY! ESPECIALLY if it's Christmas!"

Yes, there I was, in the children's section of the library, when a small Christmas book display caught my eye. At first the only book I saw was A Christmas Carol, which I thought was odd, because that's really not a children's book at all, so I foolishly went over to see if it was adapted or abridged or something.

I never did find out, for alas, a second after arriving at the display, my eye was caught by the crazy beautiful front cover of a book called The Legend of Holly Claus. In another second, I'd made my next mistake: picking up this book to look at the synopsis, a move which not only made me want to read the book but also revealed the book that had been positioned behind Holly Claus, a book with an equally beautiful cover and that screamed early-1900s called The Box of Delights.

Holly Claus is about Santa Claus's daughter, who has to journey into Victorian New York in order to break a spell on her homeland, Forever (Santa Claus is the King of Forever. Look me in the eye and just try to tell me that isn't one of the awesomest things you've ever heard). The Box of Delights is about a young boy who is given a magical box "which allows him to travel freely not only in space but in time, too" (so, basically, he has a TARDIS) that a witch and wizard who head a gang of criminals want. Already, these synopses were weakening me.

Then, upon further inspection, I discovered two more interesting things: one, Holly Claus, while not written by her, has been welcomed into the Julie Andrews Collection, which, according to the notation on the back of the book, "encompasses books for young readers of all ages that nurture the imagination and celebrate a sense of wonder"; two, The Box of Delights has a glowing review by C. S. Lewis quoted on its back cover.

Dash it.

Anyway, in case you hadn't gathered this yet, every argument I could present to myself was in vain, and, disregarding my reading list and the number of unread library books I already had, I checked them both out.

Interestingly, this occurrence fits in beautifully with what I was already planning on posting about today - Christmas media. I briefly mentioned it in my last post, but I'm expounding on it now. Much of my Christmas spirit comes from Christmas movies and books and music. It figures, too. I created this blog and themed it as I did because I have a thing with fiction. I love movies. I love books. I love TV shows. I love stories. I'm not sure why. I just always have. Hearing stories is my favorite pastime; composing them is my favorite form of expression. And around Christmas, I feel like I can't get enough of Christmas-themed stories.

Accordingly, I had my best friend in the whole wide world over last Friday to accompany me in a heavenly enjoyment of Christmassy-ness. We watched It's a Wonderful Life (it was my first time seeing it), The Nativity Story (which I hadn't seen in years), How the Grinch Stole Christmas (which was as wonderful as always), and White Christmas (which I think might be my favorite Christmas movie) (might be) (maybe) (I have a lot of trouble picking favorites).

While we're at it, let me just say really quickly that my favorite Santa Clauses ever are James Cosmo in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Edmund Gwenn in Miracle on 34th Street, Mickey Rooney in Santa Claus is Coming to Town, and Alec Baldwin in Rise of the Guardians.

There's so much good, spirit-boosting Christmas media out there. There's also some heartbreakingly un-Christmassy media in existence. It can be so unpleasant watching commercials around this time of year, because they're all so materialistic and exploitive. Christmas is when you get stuff; you need more toys. Then there's all the awful, mindless, doddering Santas, like the fainting one with the obviously fake beard in the M&M's commercial, or the one in the new Gordman's commercials. And that's not even addressing new Christmas "comedies" that I never have and never will see. You know the ones I'm talking about. I shouldn't have to name them.

Like many of my posts before, this one doesn't really have a point. Just that I love Christmas, and I love the stories that strive to capture Christmas, to belong to Christmas, to make you feel like it's Christmas. When you sometimes feel like you live through stories, as I do, having stories that make you feel deep down that Santa is real and Jesus still loves you is joyfulness itself.

To conclude, here is a somewhat unrelated but still very Christmassy quote that I really really like: "A gift from a stranger is a small miracle, a selfless act done without reward, and it's at the heart of Christmastime, this simple act. This is where Santa Claus lives, you know, in the quiet act of kindness to a stranger. That's why he sneaks into the house and why we never catch him at his act. We can't, the moment is gone if we catch him: a work of the heart indeed requires no witness but, perhaps, God... To play Santa Claus you must become the Holy Stranger, the hidden Gift Giver, and that, ultimately, has nothing whatsoever to do with a Disney film or the Coca-Cola Bottling Company." - Kevin Murphy

Merry Christmas, everyone.

~Pearl Clayton