After a couple of days now of watching the Syfy channel, drinking tea, eating junk food and moping about in my pyjamas I’ve been asked to write on the merits of such activities to recharge one’s mental batteries.
To be honest, I don’t really feel that my mental batteries are being charged at all. I feel exhausted from staying up way too late and then not sleeping properly, plus my self esteem has plummeted along with my enthusiasm for work. I will, however, cut myself some slack as this is day 3 of my mope and I know, without doubt, that I will be back on usual form again tomorrow.
3 days is my allotted period for any self pity streak. I will not allow myself to waste any more time than that. This method seems to work well for me as I never overstep my deadline and seem to bounce back better than Tigger on a trampoline, achieving incredible feats, after that time.
I have also been asked if Syfy influences my work. Now, this is a subject I can really get my teeth into. It’s not that TV influences my work per say, but to take a look at my programme preferences is to get an insight into my already existent interests. Once you see that, you can definitely see the influence in my work.
I have always been interested in Mythology, Folklore, Fairytale and the like and the programmes I enjoy most reflect this: Buffy, Angel, Lost Girl, Being Human, The Almighty Johnsons (a bit shit but I’m persevering) and now I’m especially excited about the new series of Grimm which is based on what has to be my favourite selection of fairytales. I watched the first episode last night and was thrilled to see it begin with my all time favourite fable, Little Red Riding Hood.
The depictions of fairytales in my work come from my belief that all of these fables have some basis in reality. I find it strange that we see similar mythology in the history of different cultures all over the world, cultures that could not communicate with each other to pass on these stories in the way that we can today. Perhaps they were crude attempts at identifying a particular kind of energy signature assigned to a person or beast.
We all have individual gifts or talents even if we are not necessarily aware of them. Some people have the gift of the gab, the ability to persuade others to do something ultimately to their detriment like the car salesmen who encourages you to buy that shiny car with the engine that’s about to blow (Sirens), some have the ability to inspire others to great artistry (Muses), or some have a leeching, draining energy that leaves you tired and listless (Vampires). Are these entities separate from humanity? Or are they just human traits that were recognised as special/different in a time where special or different was something to be feared?
Aside from these examples there are the stories themselves. Which insomniac can’t relate to the sleepless night of the Princess and the Pea? Who hasn’t felt trapped in a metaphorical tower at some point in their life, perhaps even of their own making? Who hasn’t met an Ogre? I’ve known a couple in my time! My personal favourite as a child was Beauty and the Beast but I always felt sad when the beast turned into the handsome Prince at the end. In my opinion, he was perfectly fine just the way he was.
Anyway, those are my insane ramblings for the day but I’ll leave you with this;
What particular gift do you have that makes you special? Which mythical creature lurks beneath your human guise?
I know where my talents lie! Do you?
Fascinating and stimulating blog, Alanda. I remember, when I was young, being read Grimms' tales by my mother last thing at night. They were, at the same time, both scary and addictive. By today's hysterical PC standard she may be considered a 'bad mother' for reading them but I'd like to defend her by stating she would balance out the potential for nightmares by also reading 'Brer Rabbit' by Enid Blyton! For me personally it is Lycanthropy which has sat comfortably (perhaps too comfortably) within me for as long as I can remember. The Hammer Horror films depicting the Wolfman/Werewolf were my first taste of the excitement coupled with revulsion of the so-called 'curse'. As a 13 year old I remember vividly laying in my bed with the hard silver light of a pregnant moon falling on me and trying desperately to elicit a change within my bodily cells. It was empowering, especially to the skinny welp of a boy that I was, to imagine that raw, savage power coursing, uncontrolled, through my body. It wouldn't take Freud to surmise that the surge of hormones of my rapidly changing body combined with a relatively strict Catholic upbringing may require a mythical beast, such as the Werewolf, to unleash pent up energy (in my head at least) in order to allow some safe form of outlet sans bloodshed! I wonder whether the conscious control of these 'myths within' aid our control of the world outside. The attraction of shape-shifting has never really left me and I feel that the majority of people would admit to having some form of totem or familiar lurking just under their skin...
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