#2014 young me would be proud of how cool I draw him now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sheerbeautyreigns · 3 years

Text

DESIRE

Part 35

Things get heated in Vegas.

Paul gently stroked Joe's cheek, hoping to wake him. He groaned, moving his head off Paul’s chest. “Baby,”

“Huh?” Joe moaned, keeping his eyes closed. “Let’s go to bed. It’s almost one.” Paul nudged him a little more urging him to get up. He was so cute when he was tired, eyes squinting, trying to avoid the light, his hair messy. He threw off the robe that he had been wearing and crawled in under the covers, closely followed by Paul. His face warmed seeing Joe immediately pull the covers up over his naked body. Paul lay behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist. Joe nodded off pretty quickly while Paul was just happy to lay holding him until he eventually drifted off.

It was almost 8:30 when Paul woke up. He rolled onto his back and looked to his left. Joe was lying on his stomach, head turned to face him. Strands, of hair had fallen in front of his face. Paul could just about see the fresh stitches on his temple. He knew it was a simple accident but it didn’t stop him being pissed off about it. That and the fact that he didn’t find out about the Wyatt attack until the last minute. He had to contain his anger sitting next to Vince watching it all unfold. He knew Joe could take it but he had become so protective of him in recent weeks that he would do anything in his position of power to give him anything. He could also see the fresh scratches and bruises that had appeared throughout his arms, side and back.

Paul had always found marks sexy but only when he was causing them. It made him think about the first time when he looked at Joe in a different way. It was back in 2014 when The Shield were up against Evolution at the Payback PPV. That time when he, Randy and Dave beat Joe with kendo sticks, followed by a steel chair. Not only that but the very next night when he was beaten with a steel chair. It turned him on immensely and he had been paying special attention to him since but he never made a move until after they got to know each other better during their 2016 feud.

“What are you thinking?” came Joe monotone voice against the pillow. Paul’s eyes trailed up to his. “Just looking at your battle scars.” A lazy smile crept across Joe face. “I dread to think what they look like this morning, much less feel.”

“At least you can rest until Sunday.” Paul said trailing his fingers gently down his spine, down to the base of his back. “I’ll need it.”

“It’ll be worth it baby, to see you with that title again. It’s been too long.” Paul re-assured him. Joe cast his eyes downwards. “It is what you want, isn’t it?”

Joe hesitated before answering. He turned on his side, wincing a little. “I just feel bad for Drew.” He pursed his lips. “I mean, it was meant for him wasn’t it?”

“Yeah but he doesn’t know that. It wasn’t fully decided until I spoke with creative.”

“He’s worked so hard for it-” Joe started. “Hey, look, we all know how hard he’s worked. He’ll get it one day but not just yet. It’s your time understand?” Joe really did feel troubled by this whole set up. He felt that this was just being given to him because of his relationship with Paul and he knew a few people would realise that. Joe always wanted to work for his title shots. “Do you understand?” Paul asked again. Joe nodded.

“I don’t want you overthinking this whole thing or losing sleep about it. Just rest up this week and do what you do best on Sunday.” Paul said placing a kiss on his lips before crawling out of bed, naked. Joe turned on his back and smiled, checking out his sweet ass as he went into the ensuite.

He listened as Paul ran the bath and thought about what he had just said. Seemed he would have this no other way. Joe himself agreed that he had busted his ass for almost a year with no sign of a title shot so true, it was his time. He just felt bad that he was getting in over Drew considering how well they had become acquainted in the last month.

Paul came out of the bathroom and came towards him. “I’m running you a nice relaxing bath baby. It’ll help, if only a little.” He said sitting at Joe’s side as he sat up. “You’re too good to me.” The young man told him. “It’s only temporary, while you’re hurt. Wait until I get you to my place next week.” Paul smirked with a dark glint in his eye. “Can’t wait.” His lips curved into a smile as Paul’s hand curved around the back of his neck and motioned him towards him for a slow, sensual kiss. Joe got up off the bed. “Check on the bath.” Paul advised, smacking him on the ass.

Joe eyebrows furrowed as he checked out his back in the bathroom mirror. It was as bad as he thought it would be. Hopefully creative didn’t have any nasty surprises in store for him come Sunday.

Carefully he eased himself into the bath. The heat of the water increased the pain in his back initially but he started to feel more relaxed as he lay back. He cupped the water in his hands, releasing it onto his chest and lay with his head back, eyes closed. It was so relaxing, he almost fell asleep again. Paul appeared at the door. His face softened when he saw Joe in the tub. He looked so peaceful. He couldn’t imagine wanting to hurt him like he’d done in the past but maybe he’d feel different in a week.

Paul watched with pride as the referee counted 1, 2, 3 when Joe pinned Bray. A huge smile spread across his face as the referee handed him the Universal Title. Joe was so overcome with emotion as he took hold of the belt. He had worked so hard for this and had just taken part in one of the hardest fought and best matches of his career. He felt banged up, still sore from the attack on Raw but he didn’t care.

His eyes met Paul’s first as he arrived backstage. Paul nodded at him with a smile just as he was bombarded by the other wrestlers congratulating him. Once he worked his way through the crowd, he got to Vince, who was almost on the verge of tears as he hugged him and finally Paul, who pulled him into a bear hug. “So proud of you.” Was all he said. Joe knew he was just keeping things low key as not to draw any attention. There would be plenty of time for talk later. All Joe wanted to do now was shower. He made his way, with his belt to the men’s locker room. A few of the guys were already in there, Colby, Tom, Matthew, Claudio, Kevin and Drew. Joe immediately went over to Drew and hugged him. “What a match!” Drew said with a smile, clearly glad that it was over. “You guys put on a hell of a show.” Claudio chimed in, putting his arms around both men. “We must celebrate!” He said throwing his arms up in the air. The others agreed, even Colby. Joe only had plans to go back to the Venetian with Paul. “Whaddya say Joe?” Drew asked. He couldn’t deny that smile. “Sounds a plan.” He said giving in. He barely ever went out for drinks with the guys and they were in Vegas. He grabbed his phone from his bag and quickly called Paul.

“What’s up?” Joe hated interrupting him while he was working. “Listen, some of the guys want to take me out for drinks. They kinda goaded me into it. Do you mind?” Paul was quiet for a moment. “No problem babe, I’ll be here another while anyway and you deserve it. Where are you guys going?”

“I’m not sure yet, somewhere on the Strip I’m sure. It’ll only be for two or three anyway.”

“OK cool, let me know where you end up.”

“Love you.” Joe told him to which Paul replied “Love you too.”

Everyone agreed go to the Dorsey at The Venetian since it was central Strip. They all freshened up and agreed to meet there around eleven. While Joe was changing into a his black suit and black shirt, he heard the door open. Paul was early. “Look at you.” He cooed seeing how good Joe looked. He rarely got to see him in a suit. “Makes me wanna keep you here.” He said pulling him in for a kiss. “I won’t be late. Just thought it’d be nice since we’re in Vegas. You wanna join us? We’re just actually going to the Dorsey downstairs.”

“Aww babe, I”d love to but its been a long day so I’ll just have a drink here.”

“You sure?” Joe checked. “Yeah, I’m good. Who’s out anyway?” He asked. “Kevin, Tom, Matthew, Claudio, Drew and Colby. Just a few of us.” Paul pulled away. Joe could see the look change on Paul’s face. He placed his hands on his hips. “I thought you and Colby were no longer on speaking terms?” Joe shifted. “Well, there’s just the odd hello here and there. It’s kinda unavoidable since we work together.” Joe tried to reason with him.

“Doesn’t sound like it.” Paul said. He looked annoyed. “Claudio just suggested drinks when we were all in the locker room. I could hardly say no?” Paul walked out of the bedroom into the living room area with Joe in pursuit “Look, I should’ve told you when I first mentioned drinks but I…” Paul stopped and turned to face him “You what?” Joe backed away a little “I was worried you might be annoyed.” The young man was frustrated. “You’re right. I am. I specifically asked you not to get involved with him-”

“We’re just going for drinks with friends. That’s all! Don’t you trust me?” Joe asked, searching his eyes. Paul’s eyebrow furrowed “Don’t you?” Joe asked again, his eyes starting to look a little glassy. Joe swallowed, backing away and going back into the bedroom. Paul’s look said it all. He could hear Joe starting to gather his things in the ensuite. “What are you doing?” Paul asked coming into the bedroom. “You clearly don’t trust me so I’m done.” Joe was visibly upset. “I’m sorry baby. Don’t go-” He said grabbing Joe arm. “No, not this time. I was so fucking stupid to think I could try this again.” He said zipping up his bag. He was angry now. Paul grabbed his arm again, this time not letting him go. “Look, look! I’m sorry I upset you. You know how I feel about Colby.”

“There’s nothing going on. I can’t believe you don’t trust me with him.” At that moment, Joe phone rang. He took it out of his pocket. It was Drew. Paul eyed the phone before Joe answered. “Hey, I’m just held up a little. I’ll be down soon.”

Paul took a few steps back. “Y’know what? You do what you want. See if I care.” Joe scowled at him before grabbing his bag and leaving the room. He was seething. He blinked his eyes hard as he walked towards the elevators, trying to ward off tears. Luckily, reception was quiet since it was Sunday night and he was able to get himself a room. He quickly dropped his bag off and went down to the bar. The guys were all sat around a table in the corner. “About time!” Tom announced as he approached the table. “Sorry guys!” Joe apologised forcing a smile. “Have some champagne! Time to celebrate!” Claudio said, already filling a glass for Joe. They all toasted to his win and a good night for them all in general.

“Where’s Paul?” Drew asked whilst the others were all chatting amongst themselves. “He’s upstairs.” Joe simply said, taking a swig of his beer. “Didn’t care to join us for a drink?”

“You know what he’s like. Anyway, I don’t wanna talk about him.” Joe called to the passing bartender “Can I get another round?” The bartender got to work immediately. Drew looked Joe over. Something seemed off, like he was hiding something.

An hour passed and everyone was moderately drunk. Joe was in mild conversation with Colby when his phone rang. Colby could see it was Paul, just before Joe put it away. “Aren’t you gonna get that?”

“No, It’s fine.” Joe shrugged. “Listen man, tell me if I’m out of line but…you seem different tonight. Are things OK with you and Paul?” He asked cautiously so the others wouldn’t hear. “No, they’re not.” He said before sighing. “Do you want to talk about it?” Joe looked him in the eyes “Actually, no. I just wanna have a good time with you guys and forget about it.” Colby backed up “It’s cool man, whatever you want.”

It was around 1am when the guys decided to call it a night and go to their respective hotels. “Hang on for a moment.” Joe told Colby as the others left.

“I didn’t want to come off as a dick earlier. You know that’s not me.” Joe started apologising as they stood in the lobby area. “Hey man it’s all good. Despite what’s happened between us over the past month or so, you know I’m always here for you.”

“Appreciate it man. Where are you staying?” Joe asked. “Here. I’ve never stayed here before, thought I’d treat myself.”

“Well It’s been a long day. I’m shattered.” Joe said as they walked towards the elevators. “At least were here tomorrow for Raw so can chill for a bit.”

“Well, this is me.” Joe said as they stopped at the 10th floor. “You gonna be OK? I don’t mind keeping you company…” Colby offered. Joe eyes trailed in his direction as the elevator stopped and the doors opened. He didn’t need to say anything. Colby stepped out into the hallway and walked to Joe’s room in silence. Nothing had been touched. It just looked like he’d left his suitcase in and came down to the bar which meant that he had probably been in Paul’s room beforehand.

Joe closed the room door behind them and set the key card aside. Colby walked into the living room area and looked out the window, taking in the night view. Joe followed, taking off his jacket and setting it on the back of the chair. Quietly he moved behind Colby and placed his hand on his right shoulder, urging him to turn around. Without a word, he kissed him gently on the lips. Colby reciprocated momentarily but moved away slowly. “What’s the matter?” Joe asked. “I don’t want to regret this.”

“You won’t.” He leaned in to kiss him again, more forceful this time. “Joe, please-”

“I thought you wanted this?” Joe searched his eyes. “I do but, you’re drunk…pissed off with Paul. I just…you’ve gotta understand where I’m coming from?” Colby was being reasonable. Joe moved away, lowering to the sofa. “I do. It’s not fair on you man.” Colby joined him on the sofa. “Do you mind me asking what happened?”

“Things got a little rocky a couple of weeks ago when I went to stay at his in Connecticut so I left earlier than I had planned. I thought that was it but last Friday, we talked and ended up spending the weekend together in Denver.”

“When I told him I was going for drinks tonight, he was fine at first but he got pissed off when he heard you would be there.” Colby rolled his eyes “It’s just drinks with friends. What does he think is gonna happen between us?” Colby shook his head in amusement. “He doesn’t trust me when it comes to you and I can’t live like that. I had to make a choice.”

“So that’s why you walked out tonight?” Colby pursed his lips. “Yeah. I had enough.” Joe let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m just tired man.” Joe leaned forward and lowered his head into his hands. Colby could see that he was starting to cry. He moved closer and put his arms around Joe “Aww man, don’t cry.” Joe buried his head into his friends shoulder and sobbed quietly. “I hate to see you like this.” He stroked the back of his neck, gently rocking him. Joe moved away, rubbing his eyes. “I’m sorry. I just feel like a mess.” Colby took hold of his shoulders. “Listen to me. I don’t want to see you upset. You’re not a mess. You’re a brilliant man and my best friend. You deserve the best.” Joe blinked and nodded. He felt ashamed. He didn’t want Colby to see him like this. “Just get some sleep man.” Joe nodded standing up. He stood up and got undressed down to his boxers while Colby pulled back the covers on the bed and moved the cushions aside. Joe brushed his teeth and came back into the bedroom. Colby forced a smile. “Will you stay a while. Just until I fall asleep? I don’t wanna be alone.” Joe as asked timidly.

“Of course.” He nodded. Joe got into the bed and watched as he undressed, neatly setting his shirt and trousers aside before turning off the lights. The room was now bathed on a red glow, coming from the nearby Hi-Roller outside. Colby climbed in next to Joe, who was lying on his back, eyes lowered to his chest. Colby moved closer, allowing Joe to lean his head into his chest for comfort. He placed his hand on Joe abdomen. There was something so soothing lying with Colby, hearing his light breaths and feeling his heartbeat that it didn’t take Joe long to nod off.

Joe awoke around nine the following morning. The room was bright since the curtains hadn’t been drawn. He had been lying in the same position as he had fallen asleep in. Colby started to stir, moving his head. He groaned, opening his eyes slowly.

“What time is it?” He asked groggily. Joe grabbed his phone from the night stand. “It’s just gone nine. Thanks for staying.“ Joe turned in to face him. “No worries. You feeling a bit better?” Colby asked, stroking his cheek. “Rested. So glad we don’t have to travel today.”

“I know. What are you gonna do?” Colby asked, stroking Joe forearm. “I don’t know. I never made plans. I normally just chill with Paul.”

“Why don’t we go somewhere for a big breakfast. There’s a place I’ve been to before called the Peppermill. Wanna go there?”

“A big breakfast sounds perfect about now.” His stomach rumbled at the thought. Colby laughed upon hearing it. His hand trailed down to Joe stomach where he tickled him. Joe laughed aloud, squirming, trying to fight him off as Colby climbed on top of him, continuing to tickle him. He grabbed Joe by the wrists and pinned him to the mattress. Joe could feel his cock getting very hard as Colby did this.

“What are you gonna do now?” he teased, lowering his head closer to Joe. Their eyes met. Without hesitation, Joe lifted his head off the pillow and kissed Colby. Within seconds, they were entangled in a passionate kiss, hands roaming each others bodies, scrambling to take their boxers off. Joe rolled over onto his stomach, arching himself up on his knees. Colby climbed behind him and prized his ass cheeks apart, leaned forward and started to tease his opening with his tongue. Joe moaned at the warm wet feeling. “So good…” He looked behind and all he could see was Colby’s head buried in his ass. He dripped his saliva around the opening and lined the head of his cock up with the opening of Joe’s hole. He eased his way in as Joe lowered his head, breathing deeply. In no time their bodies were rocking the bed, slowly at first, then becoming more steady as Colby picked up the pace. “Aaaah fuck. Jesus!” Joe let out, trying to maintain his balance. All Joe could hear was the slamming of Colby”s balls every time he thrust into him along with his grunts. He sure had stamina when it came to fucking. Colby gripped his pelvis tightly, steadying him as he came hard in his ass. Joe buried his head into the pillows below as Colby shuddered behind him breathlessly. He eventually released Joe, rolling back onto his heels. He watched as Joe rolled over onto his back, strands of hair strewn across his damp forehead. He smiled lazily at Colby, watching as he leaned down to kiss him.

“I don’t know about you but I need food.” Colby said getting off the bed. “I’m gonna go freshen up in my room and I’ll meet you at like 10:30 in the Lobby?”

“Sounds perfect.” Joe said getting off the bed. He followed Colby to the door. “Hey.” Colby turned around. “Thanks man.” Joe kissed him again before letting him leave. Joe smiled to himself as he walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. He went to the bedside to plug in his phone. He pursed his lips upon seeing a couple of unread WhatsApp messages from Paul. A horrible feeling invaded the pit of his stomach as he opened them.

11:30pm - I’m sorry about tonight. I do trust you. I don’t want to lose you again.

8:45am – Hope you’re OK? I want to make things better. Can we talk?

Joe exhaled setting the phone down and went to take his shower. All he could think of was that it was too late for Paul to say he trusted him. Why didn’t he say it to his face last night? Again, Paul had him wrecking his brain. He didn”t know how things might pan out with Colby since he was known to sleep around. He probably wouldn’t want anything serious. It was too soon anyway. He decided he was gonna just play it cool in the meantime and see how things pan out.

When he came back into the bedroom, his phone had just stopped ringing. It was Paul. He sighed, running a hand through his hair.

One thing that was certain, Paul wasn’t the type to give up on something so easily. He would probably see him this evening for Raw and part of him wanted to get this over with.

“I was wondering if I’d hear from you at all.” Paul started. “I’m not long up.” Joe said walking over to the window. “Good night?” Joe hated this small talk. “Yeah, was a nice change.” There was a moment of silence. “Are you at the Venetian still?” Paul asked.

“Yeah.” Joe started pacing around the room.

“Can I see you?” Paul eventually asked. “I have to head out soon.”

“When you’re free?” Paul pushed. “OK. I should be around one.” Joe told him. He was already dreading this conversation. “OK come up to my room.” Paul said before ending the call.

#roman reigns #seth rollins #drew mcintyre #d/s #smut #roman reigns fic #wwe

8 notes · View notes

miss-m-winks · 4 years

Text

Instead of a summary of my art from each month of 2019 I’ve compiled a summary of my art from every year of this decade! Finding some of that old art was incredibly difficult.

And making an exact image description of all this would be too long to write or read so I’m going to do my best to describe all this in a concise and interesting way.

2010: I was a sophomore in high school, so about 15 years old. These two drawings are in pencil and colored pencil, one of some random girl character wearing brightly colored clothes and a rainbow shawl thing (??) walking on clouds it seems. No idea what that was meant to be about. The other is a reference for my old oc, the very first one I ever had, based on myself. She looks human but with unicorn ears and a horn, plus wings and a tail. I hadn’t figured out animal legs yet either so she has perfectly normal human legs that just end in hooves.

2011: still mostly pencil, colored pencil, I don’t remember if I had a laptop yet. I would have been 16 years old at this time. I picked a self portrait here, a coloreddrawing of myself in black concert dress playing the trumpet because I got to do a solo in jazz band and I was very happy about it. The other art I picked for this year is digital but in the old ms paint program (you know before it tried to be fancy with a few more realistic tools and was only pixel art tools) I do believe I was still using the family computer for this, with a mouse. I was really creative with the tools. It’s my unicorn girl oc again, flying through the sky. I included a progress image, showing how I made it. I’m so glad I saved the steps and posted them it’s really cool to see my old art process for that.

2012: 17 years old, and I think I finally had a laptop with a good art program on it by this time but I still did mostly traditional art, lots of colored pencil work. I found this old experimental art I did that year, a colored pencil drawing of a girl sitting on a tree branch, but the background is all digital, a painting of a fantasy night sky with three moons. It actually looks kinda good, the edges of the colored pencil drawing are crisp and smooth and the digital background doesn’t look out of place. I mean the shading is a bit of a mess and I used white clouds on a black night sky which is a bit funny looking but it isn’t that bad. The other image is a colored pencil drawing that was really ambitious for me at the time. I had this cool idea to draw Death with sunset colored wings, all poetic and stuff. Why did I also draw death with blue skin and horns? I don’t know. Why is death sitting on an ambiguous brown cliff overlooking a cemetery? Well I guess I just was having trouble finding any other way to make a nice background and have death above a cemetery. I should redo this one, it’s a really good concept.

2013: my last year of high school, 18 years old. I was doing digital art a lot more often this year and expanding the diversity of my ocs. One of these images is a digital drawing of two of my first characters of color, two male black elves (black as in African-based) smoochin. My first black oc was also my first queer oc, jayvyn. A gay elf. There are a lot of issues with the way I originally conceptualized his story but even when I was thinking he was the only queer person in his town and there was homophobia towards him (I was only just dipping my toes outside the mindset I grew up in) I gave him a whole massive group of friends (a boys' lacrosse team he was on don’t ask me why lacrosse I have no idea I don’t even know much about lacrosse it was a weird choice) and those friends were extremely loyal and supportive of him, even to the point of going on dates with him just to make him happy. and again, he was the only gay character I had so I was writing a bunch of straight dudes taking their one gay friend on dates in a town full of people who were at least vaguely homophobic, I definitely had a lot of growing to do in my writing and my own mindset but I’m kinda proud of myself for doing that? I could have done so much worse with my first queer oc and my first real step into characters of color, but I made the whole story about this tight knit group of boys who were all such close loving friends. (Gee I wonder if this had anything to do with my being ace and not knowing it yet). Oh yeah, the other image is also there, that one is from a photoshop class I took. We had a three-way folding mirrors the bathroom at the time so I put on a hoodie, turned out the bathroom lights, folded the mirrors in and shoved my face into the gap and then took a photo with the flash while holding my mouth open in a silent scream. The result is this really cool series of screaming faces at different angles, which I then ran through a few filters and major contrast adjustment. Could be an edgy generic horror movie cover lol

2014: 19 years old, and I just finished a year of community college and then left on a church mission for 18 months. I probably should have used some of my first college art class drawings for this year's summary but I was using my old deviantart gallery to collect these old images so I forgot I had all that college art too. These two digital images are pretty dynamic in different ways. Dynamic lighting and dark skin, an experiment I was doing to figure out lighting better for my characters of color. That’s Jayvyn again I think, with lightning shooting out of his hand because I sure love making characters with lightning powers. The other is dynamic in the posing and I’m still incredibly happy with it, it’s a drawing of a grey centaur from behind, bucking in panic because a kitten pounced on its foot. Definitely still one of the best centaur drawings I have ever made.

2015: 20 years old, I was actually on my church mission for this entire year so finding art from that year was very very tricky. One is just a small pencil drawing on another oc, Ronan with his cool mechanical leg playing fiddle I guess? I was doing a lot of synesthesia doodles that year so there are lots of swirly lines coming off the fiddle. I was also surprised to find this really neat digital art I made of Ravio from link between worlds, I almost forgot I did find a way to make digital art on my mission (no access to my laptop, limited apps we were allowed to use, super limited access to normal computers except for emails and such, always busy doing important stuff) I discovered the drawing function in the iPad notes app and every time I had time I would use it until I figured out how to make it work for me, using only my fingers, the limited color palette options, and this marker tool that had one size and only multiplied (except when using white) this is definitely one of the best ones, but I don’t know where the rest went. I had a lot. I was stunned to find this because it really looks like I could have done it on a laptop, can’t believe I forgot I did that.

2016: 21 years old. Had to get used to a laptop again. Also I created my current main oc Morianten during my church mission so here I have the very first full body digital art of him! I’ve definitely changed his anatomy a lot since then, made him much more bird like. Kinda funny to look at this old one and see just how differently I draw him now, only three years later. I also have here a digital painting of some other members of morianten's adoptive family, his dad and little brother having a father son race in nice racing wheelchairs. I still struggle with proportions when I draw characters in wheelchairs.

2017: 22 years old, and back in college. I really had a focus on figure drawing that year, I was back in college art classes and I found posespace.com which is just full of professionally shot art model photos. I’ve got one digital figure drawing of my oc Talib, another practice in lighting on dark skin. The other image is a charcoal drawing of my oc Parva, I think I did that one in a 30 minute time frame where I was taking pictures at different points to show my process but I’ve lost the process images.

2018: 23 years old, and really getting into color depth with my digital art. I found a really old pencil drawing of a dynamic dancing scene and redid it as a digital painting with extreme colored lighting dynamics and new characters. I also got super into mermay so I’ve included one of my favorites, a rainbow trout gal and her elf girlfriend having a chat after a nice swim. I’m super proud of the colors and proportions here, and the shading is pretty great too.

And then it’s 2019! This year! I’m 24! For this one I used three images instead of two, all digital. My ocs Talib and Kouto as persephone and hades in a really quick painting I did but the colors and lighting are intense and fun. No outlines painting of Morianten with some pretty intense lightning lighting. That one took ages and I’m still not entirely pleased with the way I drew his face there but I’m proud of it. And I never actually posted this last one, it’s a new oc created exclusively for the DC superheroes au I dabbled in with @askmissbernadette, a young hero called Lion riding a skateboard in a dark city with a long coat on because that’s a fun way to replace the common superhero cape design.

Overall, it was really fun to go through my art for the entire decade and see how much it’s changed over time. And to see how much my characters have changed. Hope 2020 is a good year, hope the 20s in general are good. Here’s to another 10 years of change and progress!

#winks art #accessible art #image description #winks ocs #decade art summary #long post

1 note · View note

chaunceyandchumleysdad · 5 years

Photo

Dandy Warhols at Metro Chicago May 11, 2019

This is a post about the show, but also about me, the music I love and what the Dandy Warhols mean to me. This was the seventh time I’ve seen this band live, and the first time I’ve seen them at Metro Chicago since the fist two times I saw them. For the record, these are the shows:

Sept. 6, 2003 @ Metro, Dec. 6, 2005 @ Metro, Sept. 12, 2008 @ Vic Theater, Oct. 30, 2010 @ Vic Theater, June 8, 2013 @ Vic Theater, Sept. 13, 2014 @ Riot Fest, Humboldt Park, Nov. 19, 2015 @ Thalia Hall, May 11, 2019 @ Metro. (There was also a near miss in summer 2015 when my younger son Dylan texted me to let me know they were playing at a street festival in Chicago. A summer storm was rolling in, so I decided not to go. Dylan was there and I think the band played one or two songs before they had to abandon the stage due to the storm.)

I bought my ticket for the recent show a few months ago and as the date got closer, I was kind of regretting it. The Lemonheads and Tommy Stinson were playing at Thalia Hall. Smoking Popes and War On Women were playing at Bottom Lounge. And I was going to see a band I’d seen six times already. As fate would have it, Dylan borrowed my car one night and put a Dandy Warhol’s CD in the car. (Yes, my car is that old that it has not only a CD player, but a cassette player as well.) As I drove around listening to Thirteen Tales of Urban Bohemia, I began to really look forward to the show and had no regrets about going.

The Metro show in 2003 was a show that really set me on a new course for live music. Having started going to concerts in 1973, all I mostly knew for many years was the big Rock shows at stadiums and arenas. Club or theater shows were few and far between. By the time the 1990’s came along, I was raising a family, focused on my career and doing a lot of business travel. As a result, I was not going to a lot of concerts at that time. It was still pre-streaming music days, so the opportunity to discover new music was mostly limited to radio. (Although traveling to college campuses allowed me to hear some variety on campus radio stations.) In the early 1970’s, I started listening to WXRT, a progressive Rock station that turned me onto a lot of new music. By the year 2000, they had become a station that was a lot more selective and less diverse with what they played. WXRT ignored The Dandy Warhol’s first two albums, but they did play “Bohemian Like You” when the third album came out, The Dandy’s first record on a major label (Capitol). I loved the song, and I bought the CD. It instantly became one of my all-time favorite albums.

I decided I had to see them live, and that led to me attending the 2003 show at The Metro with my wife. I was immediately blown away. The band opened the show with a long shoe-gaze instrumental. They played selections from their new album, Welcome To The Monkey House as well as many of their Psychedelic and Power Pop songs from their first three albums. Courtney with cool vocals and rhythm guitar, Pete playing great licks on the lead guitar, Zia providing the bass and psychedelic sounds with the synthesizers and Brent rounding out the rhythm with a solid, steady back beat. The small theater allowed us a close-up view of the stage from the low balcony where we stood. Fans were dancing, drinking alcohol and passing joints up to the band members. I felt like I was back in a comfortable and exciting atmosphere that I had not experienced in a long time. From that point on, I became fanatical about attending live music shows, particularly at small theaters or clubs. I now rarely attend large stadium or arena shows, with The Rolling Stones and Pearl Jam being my consistent exceptions.

The show on this night (May 11, 2019) was part of their 25th anniversary tour and also served to promote their new album Why You So Crazy. It is their ninth studio album (depending how you are counting), and I think their 12th LP overall. That gives them a lot of music to draw from. Having seen them several times before, I was not bent on getting close to the stage. (In fact, last time I saw them at Thalia Hall, I was resting my arms on the stage the entire show while my son Dylan was kind enough to get me beer so that I did not lose my spot.) This time around, I was a little more chill. I arrived in time to catch the last three songs of opening band, Cosmonauts. I was not familiar with their music, but they sounded good. Not concerned about staking out a place to stand, I spent intermission leaning on a bar rail in the hallway while sipping an IPA and watching Game 1 of the St. Louis-San Jose NHL conference final on my phone. I stood in the back of the theater for the Dandy’s set. It is such a small theater that I still had a great view and easy access to the bar which added to my shoe-gaze enjoyment during the show. (During the show, Zia reminisced about the New Year’s Eve show they played at Metro years ago. I was not there, but I remember watching one of those lame New Year’s Eve shows from local television station where the newscasters stand in as emcees and try to act like they have personalities. I watched it based on the promise that they would be showing the Dandy’s show live from Metro. After waiting over an hour, they aired about 20 seconds of the show. So yes, Zia, I do remember the New Year’s Eve show!)

As usual, Zia closed out the show with some droning synthesizer sounds while chatting with the audience. She always DJ’s an after party, and she mentioned that she would be DJ’ing “next door.” By “next door,” I thought she meant the Smart Bar. Though actually in the basement of Metro Chicago, it is technically “next door” as you must walk out of Metro and enter another door to the south. It turned out she was at GMan Tavern to the north of Metro. I didn’t stay long at Smart Bar, but it was good to see it as I had not been there in decades. There was a stylish young lady in front of me as I was walking down the stairs. At the bottom of the stairs, we chatted for a minute. I told her I had not been in the Smart Bar since the 80’s. She wanted to know what I wore back then. Never having been a fashion maven, I had to be honest. I said, “I dunno. Probably jeans and a flannel shirt.” I didn’t stay long, and not having eaten since lunch, I decided to leave in search for food.

Over the years, I have exchanged a couple of brief emails with Zia. Last year I met Pete at his merchandise table when his band Pete International Airport opened for Black Rebel Motorcycle Club in Milwaukee. Before this show at the Metro, as I was approaching the theater, I see Brent coming out toward me. He stops to light up a cigarette and we exchanged “hellos.” Following the show, when I left Smart Bar, I decided to head across the street to Wrigleyville Dogs for some food. When I walked in, Brent was sitting in there with a friend. I chatted with him for a few minutes as I waited for my food order. I told him that is was the seventh time I’ve seen the Dandy’s. I also told him how much I love the album Anyway by his other band Immigrant Union. He seemed very pleased and proud of that and told me their third album will be out soon. Being an Australian band, I’m not sure Immigrant Union has gotten a lot of attention in the U.S. Brent’s friend commented on what a good restaurant Wrigleyville Dogs is and said he and Brent were going to get some beers and come back later for burgers. When they left, Brent waved to me and said, “I’ll see you in a bit.” I’m not sure if he thought I was going to the after show, or if he expected me to still be sitting in Wrigleyville Dogs when they came back for burgers. But probably it was just a way of saying, “I’ll see you again sometime.” It was an enjoyable meeting and Brent upheld the image I’ve always had of him; a personable and easy-going dude. All-in-all, it was a great evening with the Dandy Warhols and I look forward to seeing them many more times.

Set List:

1. Forever (Why You So Crazy, 2019)

2. Holding Me Up (Odditorium, 2005)

3. STYGGO (Distortland, 2016)

4. We Used to Be Friends (Welcome To The Monkey House, 2003)

5. Crack Cocaine Ranger (The Black Album, 2004)

6. Small Town Girls (Why You So Crazy, 2019)

7. Get Off (Thirteen Tales Form Urban Bohemia, 2000)

8. Highlife (Why You So Crazy, 2019)

9. Plan A (Welcome To The Monkey House, 2003)

10. You Were the Last High (Welcome To The Monkey House, 2003)

11. Well They're Gone (This Machine, 2012)

12. I Love You (…The Dandy Warhols Come Down, 1997)

13. Be Alright (Why You So Crazy, 2019)

14. Mohammed (Thirteen Tales Form Urban Bohemia, 2000)

15. Godless (Thirteen Tales Form Urban Bohemia, 2000)

16. Bohemian Like You (Thirteen Tales Form Urban Bohemia, 2000)

17. Every Day Should Be a Holiday (…The Dandy Warhols Come Down, 1997)

18. Pete International Airport (…The Dandy Warhols Come Down, 1997)

19. Boys Better (…The Dandy Warhols Come Down, 1997)

20. Zia Outro

#dandy warhols #Metro Chicago #chicago #wrigleyville #courtney taylor-taylor #zia mccabe #brent deboer #immigrant union #pete holmstrom #pete international airport #live music #may 11 2019 #setlist.fm

2 notes · View notes

yuzusorbet · 6 years

Photo

My Sendai Holiday (April 2018) - Part 2: Ice Rink Sendai

Part 1 was about Yuzuru’s Olympic Victory Parade, the main purpose of my trip. The other purpose was to just enjoy being in Yuzu’s hometown. After I became his fan (since 2014 Sochi Olympics), Sendai is a place that I often saw in photos and videos and read about (and translated about), and so I have been wanting to visit for the longest time. The 2018 victory parade made it the perfect time to go. Yuzu said during one press conference, “By all means, please come to Sendai and spend some money.” And so I did! :D

(It’s another one of my VERY long posts, haha. I want to remember all my emotions and all the wonderful things that I experienced.)

--------------------------

My first afternoon in Sendai, I had no plans but my heart was yearning to go to Yuzu’s home rink. I knew I would be going there the next day with a friend Ella, but I realised I couldn’t wait! This is the rink where Yuzu grew up, the rink that he loves, the rink that he donates all his royalties from his 2 autobiographies to (‘Aoi Hono’ 1 & 2). It was recently renovated (in the 2nd half of 2017) with ideas/suggestions from him and Shizuka Arakawa. So I found myself going to the tourist information centre in Sendai Station to get directions to Ice Rink Sendai. (The tourist info centre is awesome! Photo above. There is staff who speak very good English. I did not need to use my Japanese at all.)

There are 2 ways to get to the rink and I chose the 50-minute bus ride. I wanted to relax on the bus and see the neighbourhood and eat my ‘zunda mochi’ and ‘zunda pudding’ (Sendai specialty, sweet deserts made from edamame, bought from a shop in the station) (Yuzu ate zunda mochi in ‘Weekend Sendai’ photo shoot). It was a delicious and scenic ride.

Photo above: Nanakita River and Yurtec Stadium, home to J.League club Vegalta Sendai (and also to Vegatta-kun, the eagle mascot that loves Yuzu very much xD). Being in the Nanakita area means the rink is near!

After alighting at the right stop (I checked with the bus driver to be sure), I looked around wondering where the rink was.... then I saw this ‘Fun-te’ sign; Ice Rink Sendai’s name and logo is there too!

Turning right at the sign, soon I saw a familiar building.

I am here!!! The rink that I’ve seen in videos and photos, and read so much about! There was a banner hanging down one side: “Congratulations, Hanyu Yuzuru senshu, gold medal”.

After entering through the glass doors, I saw this beautiful sight.......

Along the left wall was a Yuzu-in-kimono standee and LOTS of messages on the wall. They were support messages to Yuzu written before PyeongChang Olympics. Many of them were written on specially made oval-shaped paper with the words “PyeongChang 2018 Olympics; Ganbare!! Hanyu-senshu!!” at the top of the paper. The photo below is a close-up of 2 such messages.

These two were written by members of Pandalion, the Sendai group that composed cheer songs for Yuzu for both Olympics. One message says ‘Forever supporting you!!’ and the other says ‘You are a phoenix!!’ (the kanji is literally: You are the bird that never dies!) I was so touched reading the messages. They were all written during the long silent period when Yuzu was recovering from injury. The people here kept on believing in him (and I’m so proud to say I did too).

Next to all the support messages was a whiteboard with Yuzu’s messages from past years. The first one has no date but I saw a photo of it a long time back. It says: ‘Even though we are apart, our hearts are one!! Everyone “forward”!! I will also work harder and become strong!’ (my translation) And he signs off with a little mushroom drawing next to his name. Reading it, I felt again how much he loves his hometown and how difficult it was for him to leave Sendai to train in Toronto. (His desire to become a better skater was so strong, he knew sacrifices had to be made.) The other 2 messages are from 2014 (thanking everyone for their support) and 2017 (congratulations on the 10th anniversary).

Further down this left wall was the entrance to a little exhibition gallery with photos and memorabilia of Shizuka Arakawa and Yuzuru. Photo-taking is not allowed in this part. But here are 3 photos from news sources (thanks to ElenaC):

The cutest thing was a pair of small, black skating boots with a name labeled on the blades, ‘はにゅうゆづる’ (’Hanyu Yuzuru’ in hiragana)..... could be his earliest pair of skates!

On the right side near the entrance is the ticket machine and the reception counter. You buy a 200-yen ticket if you want to enter the rink area to look around and watch people skate. If you want to rent a pair of skates and do some actual skating, you buy the 1700-yen ticket.

Straight ahead were glass panels and a set of glass doors that lead to the ice rink. There is a sign on the door saying photography is not allowed inside. The young lady at the reception counter explained that it is for protecting the privacy of the children skating there.

It was quiet and peaceful on this day of my 1st visit. In the reception/exhibition area, there were only 3 or 4 people slowly looking at the messages, photos and exhibits. After spending some time here, I bought a 200 yen ticket and entered the area where the rink is.

There were many skaters in the rink. The first things that caught my eyes were 2 big posters of Yuzu on the opposite side of the rink; they were the ‘Aoi Hono’ posters (Book 1 and 2).... wow..... so beautiful...... I walked around and then I sat down on one of the viewing benches to watch the skating. Most of the skaters were school children having skate lessons after school.

After a while, a lady who looked familiar entered the rink and started to coach a group of children. It was Nanami Abe-sensei!!!! Aww....... I felt so happy to see her! The coach who was with Yuzu in so many of his earlier videos, the coach who was in tears after his legendary R&J in Nice 2012, the great coach that I have read so much about...... my heart was just so moved to see her for real in person. She was in a longish black down jacket, with short cropped hair and black-framed specs.

Pic below: there is a photo of her in the poster on the right, and a photo of her and other coaches of Ice Rink Sendai. The poster on the left shows the exhibition area before the renovation of the rink. (These posters are in the outer area where the message board is.)

She was coaching a group of children who looked about 12 years old to early teens (about 5 girls and 1 boy). I just sat there watching them, feeling very happy and contented.

After some time, I suddenly I heard Nanami-sensei saying in Japanese, “Photos are not allowed. Please do not take photos.” I realised that 2 ladies sitting on a bench near me were using their handphones to take photos. Oops..... maybe they forgot that it was not allowed in here. Nanami-sensei then came out of the ice rink and was now walking towards our benches! She went to the ladies and said politely but firmly, “Please delete the photos that you took.” They were not Japanese but Nanami-sensei just repeated herself until they understood. She stood there and watched them as they deleted the photos in their phones, and then she went back into the rink and continued with her class. Wow..... that was so cool!!! She is so cool!!! I sat there watching her with a HUGE amount of respect and feeling even more in awe of her! (And I couldn’t help feeling a little scared of her too, haha!)

I stayed there watching the skaters until it was closing time (6pm). Of course, I was tempted to skate as well. But I know I can’t skate to save my life and the ice is so hard..... I was afraid of falling and breaking something and not being able to go for Yuzu’s victory parade! I decided I would just have to come back here another day after the parade. :))

The next day was Saturday, ie. the day before the parade. My friend Ella had arrived in Sendai and I came to the rink with her. What a big difference today.... there was a long queue to go in! (The rink would be closed on parade day itself.) Pic below: I was waiting in line near the main entrance when I took this photo. The glass doors at the end lead to the ice rink. The banner hung above the doors says “PyeongChang Olympics 2018 figure skating Japan representative, Hanyu Yuzuru senshu, gold medal congratulations”.

Pic below: I was now inside and I took this photo from the opposite direction.

Because it was crowded, we didn’t stay long. Ella had a good look at the whole place and we both knew we would come back again soon. So we headed to a very nice Starbucks nearby and relaxed there with our frappuccinos.

Next to it was a big bookshop with a poster of Yuzu’s book ‘Yume wo Ikiru’ prominently displayed outside. Of course, we went in for a while. :)

Lots of beautiful books inside. :)

For the return journey in the afternoon, there were no buses that go to Sendai Station (they only run in the morning with a last bus at 1.35pm). It’s a short bus ride or a 20-min walk to the nearest station ‘Izumi Chuo Station’ and then take the subway. (Note: bus schedules may change according to month/season.)

Next day = Yuzu’s Parade Day = the hottest day ever recorded for April in Sendai. After the parade, the next few days were grey and rainy. I was so grateful thinking back to parade day...... thank God it was hot and sunny! (link to my parade day post is at the bottom of this post) With the parade over, it was safe to do some ice skating! So one rainy day, I went back to Ice Rink Sendai.

My initial plan was to take a walk around the Nanakita area, have a look at Nanakita Elementary School (that Yuzu attended) and Nanakita Park (where Yuzu sat on a bench in ‘Weekend Sendai’ mag), and then head to the rink. But it was not good weather for being outdoors. I decided to go to the rink first; maybe the rain would stop later and I could go to the park and the school after skating.

Pic below: on the way there by bus again.

In Ice Rink Sendai, the staff at the reception counter were the same ladies that I saw on the other 2 days, and one of them remembered me from my previous visits! haha, that made me so happy! :D

I handed them 2 postcards for Yuzu, one written on behalf of the FB International Fan Group and one from myself. The staff said they would pass them to him. :) Then one of them helped me with the purchase at the ticket machine; I paid 300 yen for a pair of plain grey gloves (mascot Irene gloves were out of stock but it’s ok cos I do have a pair at home) and 1700 yen for skating and rental of skates. I asked her “how many hours”, I thought it would be for 2 or 3 hours, but she said, “Until closing time.” Oh wow! You mean I can skate here the whole day??? Glad the rain made me come here earlier than planned!

Then she asked me if I wanted a ‘point card’ even though I may not be able to use it -- you get a stamp for each session, and 5 stamps will give you one free session. I had told her on my first visit that I don’t live in Japan and I came because of the parade, so she knew it would be hard for me to make use of it (card expires in one year). It was so nice of her to offer me one.... I told her I would keep it as a souvenir. How I wish I could skate here 5 times a year!

I entered the area of the rink. It was so quiet! There were only 3 adults skating as most children were still in school; their lessons would start later in the afternoon. For now, it felt like I had the whole rink to myself! I went to the rental skates counter and the staff helped me to get the right size of skate boots.

Then, one thing really, really surprised me. The staff actually asked a coach to look after me for a while! A female coach with a very kind and sweet face came to me as I was wearing my skates and said she would give me some guidance. Wow..... what a kind gesture from them!!! I was so touched! Thank you, staff-san and sensei!!!

Pic below: I am ready to skate!

Sensei showed me how to get onto the ice safely and how to move forward and how not to fall. We went very slowly round the rink together as I practised what she showed me. At first, I was very nervous and afraid of falling.... I know how painful it is! Then I started to get more comfortable on the ice and more confident, thanks to her instructions. And I love the ice!!! It was very dry throughout and very nice to skate on. I moved slowly around the rink, with Sensei patiently skating next to me.

Sensei was so warm and friendly, and chatted to me as we skated. (Once again, I felt very thankful that my Japanese is good enough for a decent conversation.) She said she loves skating and she has been teaching here for many years. I told her that I have been a Yuzu-fan since Sochi Olympics and I had come to Sendai for the victory parade and I really wanted to visit his home rink. So here I was! She was very happy to hear that and thanked me for coming. Then she told me that she was already coaching here when Yuzu was a little boy and he was so cute with his mushroom hair! Oh WOW!!!!! I am skating with someone who knew him as a kid!!! I felt so privileged to have her company! We started to talk about how great he is, not only as a skater, but as a person as well. It was very obvious that Sensei is extremely proud of him. :) She also told me some funny anecdotes. She said that among the little kids that she teaches now, the boys say, “When I grow up, I want to be Hanyu-kun.” And the girls say, “When I grow up, I want to marry Hanyu-kun.” Hahaha....... SO CUTE!!!!!

As my ‘lesson’ progressed, children and teens started to arrive at the rink for their lessons. As we continued to skate slowly round the rink, students would skate up to greet Sensei. She responded to each one with a gentle nod and a smile. These were all her former students, she told me. What lovely students, I thought. So well-mannered and respectful...... just like a guy I know. Ci

Then Sensei said it was time for her to get ready for her lesson with some children, so she would leave me to practice on my own. I thanked her profusely for her kindness and she replied that she really enjoyed teaching me. :D

Before she went off, she made sure I was ok. Told me that if I feel cold, there is a ‘warm room’ where I can enter with my skates and sit for a while. If I am hungry, there is a lounge where I can get food and have a rest, but no skates allowed there so I need to change back into my normal shoes for that room. She also said there are a lot of Yuzu’s books and magazines there so I should go and take a look!!! haha.... Sensei really understands the heart of a fan! Ice-resurfacing was going to start at 3pm; no skating for 30 minutes, perfect time to head to the lounge!

If you want to see the place, here is a link with 3 news videos: twitter. And this is an English news article with a few photos.

The lounge is a very comfortable place with neat rows of tables and chairs. And there are really a lot of Yuzu’s books and magazines there! Nicely displayed on a few low shelves that encircle a cosy sitting area further inside.

WOWWWW......................

I CAN STAY HERE ALL DAY........

There were vending machines selling drinks and hot food. I got a box of ‘yaki onigiri’ (grilled rice balls which I love), selected a few mags and sat by the huge glass windows that look out towards the rink. “Itadakimasu!”

What a perfect meal.

Soon, the zamboni had done its job and the skaters were out on the ice again. I found it so hard to leave the lounge..... I wanted to look through ALL the magazines first! But the rink closes at 6pm..... there was not much time left to skate. So after spending a bit more time on the mags, I tore myself away and went back outside to put on my skates.

Now there were several coaches on the ice and different classes were going on. I waved to Sensei who was teaching a tiny little boy..... awww Yuzu must have been like that when he started..... And then, I saw Nanami-sensei again! She came into the rink and started to coach a group of older children. I continued to skate slowly round and round the rink, trying my best NOT to stare and to concentrate on my own practice. I admire her so much as a coach and choreographer that I couldn’t help feeling excited to be skating near her. xD

The older children were practising jumps and spins. There were also a few adults skating. Everyone was so good and I must have stuck out like a sore thumb. But surprisingly, I was not embarrassed nor self-conscious. I think I must have been too overwhelmed with happiness to feel anything else. :D

Too soon, it was closing time. I returned my skates and thanked the staff for their help and kindness. I went outside and saw that it was still raining!!! And I had totally forgotten about checking the weather and trying to go to Nanakita-koen, haha!

I was putting up the hood of my parka when I heard someone call my name. It was the coach who had taught me..... Sensei! She asked me where I was going and I told her I was going to take the bus and then the subway to Yaotome Station. ‘Rikyu’, a restaurant near there has very delicious grilled liver and beef tongue, and also Yuzu’s signature, haha. And then, I got another HUGE surprise of the day.... she said she could send me there in her car!!! I quickly declined her offer, gosh how could I trouble her! But she assured me that the restaurant was on her way. She also said it was getting dark very quickly because of the rainy weather and she would worry about me trying to look for it in the dark. And again insisted it was no trouble for her as she was going that way. Awww...... Sensei, you’re too kind for words!!! I asked her to join me for dinner but she said she had to run some errands, so she couldn’t. We went to her car which was parked in the huge parking area outside Ice Rink Sendai and I had a very quick and comfortable journey to the restaurant. Sensei, domo arigato gozaimashita!!!

(Note of caution in case there are very young fans reading this: do NOT get into a car with someone you don’t know.)

(Photo above: I took this photo of the restaurant after I waved goodbye to Sensei and I was waiting to cross the road. There was a light drizzle.)

What a rainy day.... but oh how grateful I am for it! It made me spend the whole afternoon at Yuzu’s home rink and I experienced the immense warmth and kindness of the people there! Thank you, Ice Rink Sendai! Thank you, Sensei!

Part 1: victory parade day Part 3: coming up.... I will write about the rest of the trip, like going to places with Yuzu’s signature. :)) Update: Part 3 and Part 4

[Please do not use or re-post my stuff without my permission]

#Yuzuru Hanyu #ice rink sendai #such a wonderful experience #I feel so blessed

285 notes · View notes

edge-hill-university · 6 years

Text

“I Want To Be Defined By My Reaction, Not My Disability”

Former marine Andy Grant’s (above left) life changed irrevocably after losing a limb in the line of duty. Budding journalist Amos Wynn (above right), currently studying Sociology with Politics at Edge Hill University, tells his inspiring story.

Meeting up with Andy Grant in a coffee shop in Liverpool, it’s hard to imagine what things were like for him nearly ten years ago when he was injured whilst serving as a marine in Afghanistan.

At only 20 years of age, just one year older than I am now, he went through the unimaginable when he lost a leg in an explosion in Afghanistan while serving with the marines.

But Grant vowed that he “didn’t want to be defined by being disabled or an ex-soldier; I wanted to be defined by how I reacted to it,” and his determination to be clear for everyone to see.

Now at the age of thirty, Grant has done plenty to ensure exactly that.

He has become the world’s fastest single leg amputee, running 10k in 37 minutes and 17 seconds, 36 seconds faster than the previous record. He won two golds and a bronze at the 2014 Invictus Games, and completed sky dives amongst other tasks, and is now a successful motivational speaker.

Earlier this year Grant released his autobiography, You’ll Never Walk, documenting the big moments in his life, the highs and the lows.

Grant admits it was an “emotional rollercoaster” going through the thirty years of his life with ghost writer, Phil Reade.

“We went through every emotion, from crying our eyes out to laughing out loud, as well as some moments of real suspense.”

Discussing the different events in his life made the ex-marine “relive” a lot of moments and allowed him to think in more depth about the different things he had been through and the things he has achieved in adversity.

“I get a good feeling just talking about breaking the 10k record. I explained the emotions I went through that day and what it felt like when I crossed the line, and that put a huge smile on my face. I think that helped Phil [Reade] to see how happy and how proud I was.”

Putting his story down in words was something Grant had thought about for a long time before he started writing You’ll Never Walk, but “I didn’t want it to be just about being blown up in Afghanistan, I wanted to write a book about what I had achieved.”

After he broke the record and became the fastest single leg amputee he thought, “I’ve done something now, I’ve got something, and then I was approached by Phil.”

The book has received positive feedback, with a variety of people finding it inspiring, and Grant receiving nice messages from strangers, telling him what it meant to them and how it has affected their lives: “that was what we wanted, for people to get that positive message, that they can achieve anything.”

The 30-year old believes there is “nothing better than someone who has been going through a really hard time finding hope from your story, it does give you a little buzz, but it’s also very surreal.”

The fact that people could be sat on holiday around the world reading his book is a “crazy thought” for Grant but makes him really “proud”.

A few years ago, Grant took part in an ITV documentary, and says it hasn’t been an issue allowing people into his life.

“I welcome it really; I’m a people person and very open, so I enjoyed working and sharing my story.”

At the age of 12, Grant’s mother died and this “engraved” him with the mentality he has had throughout his life.

“I always knew life could be unfair. When I lost my mum, I went through the hardest military training but when life did get tough I knew I could pull through.”

Even after being blown up, he never at any point thought about quitting and accepting that the rest of his life would be spent in a wheelchair. “I always knew I had something inside me that could push on and get over this tragedy.”

The death of his mother meant Grant grew up being very close to his dad and two sisters. They are always in his mind with “everything I do in my life affecting them, from joining the marines in the first place, to serving out in Iraq and then Afghanistan, to eventually getting injured.”

A big thing for Andy was the way that his family and other people would see him. “I never wanted them to think their brother was once this big Royal Marine who is now in a wheelchair and doesn’t really do anything.”

“I try to inspire them and to show them I’m still the same Andy; they were proud when I joined the marines and I wanted to keep their view of me the same or even better, if possible.”

After the accident there was a chance for Grant to carry on life with both his legs, but he would have had to remain in a wheelchair. This led to his decision to have the amputation.

“You come into the world with two arms and two legs and you expect to leave with two arms and two legs, so it was sad knowing that keeping the leg wasn’t possible if I wanted to live my life.”

The decision to lose the lower part of his leg may have been “tough”, but Grant was driven on knowing that it could lead to a better life.

“No one likes having things taken off them, whether it’s a kid in school getting sweets taken off him or me losing something I had had for twenty-two years of my life.”

Despite ten years passing since the accident, Andy still finds himself fighting for compensation, with support coming from charities, not government.

“I think they’ve tried to wash their hands as quickly as possible, which is a shame. At times I’ve fought harder for compensation than I did fighting the Taliban.”

The accident had a huge impact on Grant’s outlook on life, making him want to “enjoy myself more and not really stress about things too much because I’ve realised we only get one life.”

“I was very young when I was blown up,” he continues, “and there was a lot of experiences and places in the world I’d never seen, so it gave me this attitude to kick on and try to draw everything from life. It gave me a kick up the backside and I’ve ended up doing more things than I did before.”

Whilst his injury is one of the factors that contributes to his desire to try new things, Grant also points to losing his mother as another of the reasons behind it.

“She was 36 when she passed away and I’m 30 now, so that could be six years of my life left, and that makes me sad. There are so many things I’ve not achieved and that she didn’t in such a short life, so I want to live mine to the full and try new things.”

That, combined with being a person who loves trying new experiences, gives him the strong desire to jump outside his comfort zone and to give things a go, to “stand up to be counted.”

“After all that happened to me, I think I was not put on this Earth to pay bills then die. I want to achieve and go places and live life to the max. I like holidays, spending time with my family and doing fun things.”

The grit and determination that Andy conveys must run through his family, as his dad is also a big inspiration to the record breaker.

“He’s done a good job bringing up three children on his own. Now, as a father, I realise how difficult it is to bring kids up.”

Despite sharing a determination, Grant believes they are also in some ways different.

“I’m more outgoing and I like trying new things, but my dad is shy and more low key and doesn’t make a song and dance about things, but he has his own personal resilience. I’m a bit more adventurous and wear my heart on my sleeve more.”

Grant also takes inspiration from people who doubt him.

“I love it when people say I’m lucky. It’s the biggest compliment if I can lose my mum at 12 and get blown up in Afghanistan but still love such a life and people think I’m lucky.”

This is something he takes as a “driving force” to continue “smashing life and keep on doing well so people have that perception of me.”

As a professional public speaker, Grant tries to get the message across “that life is hard and challenging and you don’t have to be blown up in Afghanistan to realise that it is tough. Whatever life throws at you, you can overcome it; it is about your reaction.”

His talks vary depending on the client. He could discuss communication and life in the marines or the pressures in life; just trying to “deliver the best service possible.”

Grant states he’s sportier now than he was before the accident, “which is funny”.

“I loved football as a kid but when I joined the marines I played with my mates but never played competitively. I was always fit and loved running, but I wouldn’t class myself as a runner, I never did any races or anything.”

He admits “being in the marines you are more active than the average person, but I didn’t have a particular sport. It’s crazy to think it took me losing a leg to do my first triathlon, to sky dive and to join mountaineers and climb some of the highest mountains in the world.”

It took something “dramatic” for Grant to realise all the things he wanted to give a go and believes “the positives outweigh the negatives” of his injury.

Even with one leg, Grant remains fitter than the majority of people with two.

“When I was training for my 10K I was running five times a week and going to the gym five times a week, it was quite intensive. I can’t compare myself to a normal person who might be working 9-5 and happy sitting on their a*se, but I wake up, take my dog for a walk and keep active throughout the day.”

Grant remains fitter than a few of his sporting heroes he had growing up, beating the likes of Jamie Carragher and Robbie Fowler in races.

“That has been one of the cool things that has happened on the way, that I’ve got to the position where heroes of mine are turning round and doing favours for me, like going for a run with them. They don’t ask me because they feel sorry for me; they do it because I’m their mate, it’s not out of pity, it’s out of admiration.”

It is an added bonus for the life-long Liverpool fan that “people whose name you sang and cheered for, turn round and say ‘it’s nice to meet you Andy.’”

The support from people, like Carragher, is an example of the help he has received from the community in Bootle, the area of Merseyside he grew up in.

“It helped keep me grounded. Life has been crazy, but I can go to the local pub and people still talk to me the same and it’s nice to know they’re really proud. The people may not have much, but they always have that sense of pride.”

Grant is defiant and states he wouldn’t change anything about what has happened to him, “the only advice I would give is to enjoy the good times more.”

Despite achieving so much, Grant’s plans haven’t stopped yet. He is going back to the drawing board for something new next year.

For now, his aim is to “make the book and my motivational talks as successful as possible and keep sharing the message.”

#invictus games #disability

3 notes · View notes

asiawrites · 6 years

Text

The Ramblings Inside My Creative Mind: My Daddy’s Gone

Father’s Day 2018 marked the two year anniversary of my father’s death. That was a double gut punch. A day dedicated to him and the day that he left all in one. That day I spent in bed. If not for work that Saturday I would’ve been in bed the whole weekend. The anticipation leading up to that weekend was nerve-racking and by the time Saturday hit I was emotionally exhausted. At work I couldn’t stop the tears from randomly falling. I finally got fed up and went to our break room just to take a breath and cool my mind. Not 5 minutes after I’m called to the front where my Uncle just decided to randomly pop in because he was in the area. It was as if my dad sent him. When he hugged me I became a blubbering mess. Like an idiot I apologized for having emotions and he reminded me that I’d see my dad again, the healthy him, and that he was proud of me. Which was the perfect thing to say to make me cry harder. Father’s Day I hardly left my bed. I didn’t want to see anyone. I didn’t want to talk. I just wanted to be. Even now 10 days later I still feel emotionally exhausted and just spent. 2018 seems to be a harder year than the last, dealing with his death. I think the reason for that is that my boyfriend reminds me so much of him. The fact that they’ll never meet makes me sad. I feel like I’m finally on a path to somewhere and he’s not here to see it. If we get married or start a family, he won’t be there. That hurts.

Today I saw my therapist, the first time since that weekend and we broke it all down in a way that I’ve thought about in fleeting, but never unpacked it the way I did today. She took me back to the feelings I had when he died and how our relationship was before that. I didn’t realize all the feelings I had about him, his later life, and his death until today. I also barely thought about how he must’ve been feeling all that time too.

From 2008-2012 I was living away from and most of our interactions were through phone because I could barely afford to visit in those years I were away. When I returned late 2012-2016 my feelings about him changed. I got to see first hand his drug abuse (that I’ve talked about several times before). I saw how his body was breaking down and how he truly wasn’t the man who had raised me. He was in there somewhere, but his soul was weak. A few years before he passed I remember completely losing my shit on him. I caught him actually doing drugs in our home and all of the anger of seeing dealers come to our house, his total disregard for the safety of his family, and just the overall feeling of “this wasn’t supposed to happen to our family”. One day overhearing him deny his activities to my mom, I lost it. I came in screaming, hollering, crying, and cursing. I’d had enough. Everything bubbled to the surface. I don’t remember everything, but I do remember saying “I wouldn’t care if you died.” Yeah, those words still ring in my ears. I carry a lot of guilt because of it. I wonder if when I said it, he thought “I don’t either.” Although that happened a few years before he passed I wish I could take it back. I don’t know if those words stuck with him as long as they stuck with me.

When I was much younger, around four or five, I think, he had an accident at work. He came in contact with some chemical that really fucked him up. No, he wasn’t deformed or anything like that, but he’d have times that his hands and feet would swell tremendously to the point where it would break the skin. There was lots he couldn’t do for himself. Even toddler me would comb his hair because he couldn’t so much as grip a comb or brush. I was so young at the time that I had no concept of the possible severity or time. I can’t tell you if this went on for months or years and I can’t honestly tell you how much pain he may have been in because I don’t remember him showing any signs of being in pain, ever. As I told my doctor, it wasn’t until my sophomore or junior year of high school that I noticed something was off. He never had any money, always behind on bills, gas tank forever on E, and would always borrow money from me as if I had a job, so essentially just asking to borrow my allowance back. It wasn’t until I was about 24 that I knew for certain something was going on. My dad had frequent trips to the ER and on one of them the doctor let it slip that he found cocaine in his system. There it was. The truth laid out in front of me. Not until today did I wonder, did this start when I was five? I remember around that time always going to the doctor with him and getting scripts. Did it start with the pain meds from all those years ago, and by the time I was 16 he was into a full addiction, and by the time I was 24 he was in a I don’t give a fuck phase of his addiction?

While I was still living in Chicago, maybe around 2010, he had to be rushed to the hospital again. I didn’t rush home because my mom told me it was just more of the same. She told me that he had finally admitted that he was doing heroin. I look back on that reveal of the cocaine and think was he doing cocaine and escalated to heroin? Was he just taking what his dealer had available? Or in true Dayton, Ohio fashion when it comes to these sleazy dealers, did he maybe by weed or pills and it happened to be laced with something? At the point of his heroin reveal I didn’t really care because in the end of the day he was still an addict. That time I wrote him a loving letter letting him know how proud I was of him for taking that first step. I wonder if he truly absorbed those words I wrote. One time my mother told me he admitted he thought he was depressed. If so maybe it’s possible my words felt like lies or just blank words on notebook paper. That’s what depression does, after all. It turns love into lies. We never really discussed it and naive me thought the best was ahead of us instead of the worst.

In those final years his health was completely shot. In 2011 he had a stroke. He had developed COPD as well as congestive heart failure which lead to him getting a pacemaker in 2014. The following year after that he was on oxygen, and followed a diagnosis of an aneurysm in his stomach. Looking back it was a miracle he lived as long as he did. As my doctor said, with the COPD and congestive heart failure alone he had to be in constant pain. By then were the drugs to numb the pain, out of addiction, or both? With my begging him to quit was he afraid that if he did the pain would never stop? In the end even if it did numb the pain the drugs only accelerated the damaging of his health.

Today I looked back on how alone and helpless he must’ve felt for years. I remember when my mom told me about his self diagnosis of depression and I didn’t know what to say because I was trying to understand my own. I can’t imagine what it must’ve felt like to be a man, and feel like if he were to reach out for help he might of been seen as less than. Not only just having it not make sense because he was of a generation who definitely didn’t talk about depression. It was just suck it up and get on with it. I can’t imagine being so lost that you become something that is the complete opposite of yourself. My dad was creative. He loved to draw, build things with his hands, and play music. He taught me a lot. He was very in tune with his culture, black empowerment, black knowledge, black history, etc. He drilled these things into my head, that at the time, I didn’t want to hear or didn’t understand, but I completely get now and plan on drilling into my kids heads. He was the epitome of black excellence so to see him deteriorate the way that he did doesn’t make sense to me and makes all of the sense at the same time. It is unfortunate. I see that he was a complex human being. He wasn’t always strong. That’s the image I always had of him. Strong, but he was human. He had weakness. He had emotion. He did hurt. If only he had opened up, but perhaps he was too busy trying to be strong. But good or bad, strong or weak, he was my father. I loved him then. I love him now. And I will love him forever.

-Asia Aneka Anderson, 2018(c)

#By: Asia Aneka Anderson #amwriting #writing #my ramblings #Inside My Creative Mind #My Daddy's Gone #personal #death of a parent #death #loss #Father's Day #drug addiction #heroin #family

4 notes · View notes

canaryatlaw · 6 years

Text

well today was pretty good, best day in a while. I woke up at like, 8:20 with my alarm set for 8:45 and knew I wasn’t going to fall back asleep now that I had this knowledge so I just laid in bed and waited for my alarm to go off and then got up lol. I definitely packed like 4 different snacks in my purse, just because I felt like it was good to have them on hand for today (I ended up eating two of them). It was WAY TOO FUCKING COLD today, like 44, so I had to wear my fucking winter coat and it was awful and Chicago I’m so mad at you about this because it’s late May dammit I shouldn't have to still be putting up with this bullshit. I felt bad for the kids on the baseball/softball fields the bus passes that were already out there playing at 9 am when it was so cold. I do distinctly have memories of playing soccer in the snow, it was the end of the season and they had to get the games in, I legit had my winter coat on with my jersey over it, and it was legit snowing while we were playing. I can’t say it was really a negative memory though, because pretty much all my like, actual childhood memories of playing soccer were happy because I loved it so much, it was only once the breathing issues set in when I was 12 did they start becoming awful, frustrating and heartbreaking memories because I still loved it so much but I couldn’t do it now, and I felt so inadequate that I legit burst into tears on several occasions.....but then I found theatre and things were much happier again, so we can walk back that little tangent a little. But yeah, I took the bus to the train, I had to wait 11 minutes for the next train and it was fucking cold, I only had my coat, not my scarf or gloves or hat because IT’S MAY and I was freezing. But we got to church, a few minutes late but no big deal, I ended up sitting a little farther back than usual but it’s all good. I remembered upon arriving that small group sign ups opened up at 8 am this morning, and they fill up super fast, so I was bad and went on my phone discreetly during the service to make sure I could get a spot in the Young Adults/20s and 30s Singles small group. You’re supposed to be able to commit to 75% of the meetings before signing up, which I can’t technically do at this point because idk what’ll be happening in my life in July, but I know one of the leaders, she graduated from another law school in the city a few years back so I think I’ll just talk to her and be like as soon as I know if I have to leave I’ll drop out and someone else can have the spot and I’m sure she’ll be cool with it. Great worship as always, the little question they gave to talk to your neighbor for a minute while they transition was “if you could be any superhero who could you be” so I turn to the guy next to me and was like OH BOY, this is my fucking jam haha and we had a short conversation about DC vs Marvel and DCTV, so that was cool. Early in the sermon about the holy spirit my pastor brought up this group called “The Power Team” which I had completely forgot was a thing, but as soon as he said I had suddenly had these super vivid memories of sitting in some room in some church somewhere on Long Island (I had to have been like, 7, so I was little) and just watching these incredibly jacked guys do things like smash bricks with their hands and bend frying pans in half and literally blow up a hot water bottle until it burst, all while saying things like “IT’S THE POWER OF GOD THAT LETS US DO THIS” and that was their whole jam, that we were supposed to believe they could only do these superhuman acts because of God specifically enabling them to do them. I don’t know what was going on in the heads of the adults who were sending kids to this thing all the while knowing it had to be a farce, and that was the point my pastor was making, there’s nothing incredible about a man being able to do an act that he is physically built enough to do, if a normal not jacked guy came up and ripped a phonebook in half (that was another thing they did, my pastor joked “if some of you don’t know what that is, we used to print the internet”) by calling on the holy spirit then that would be something you could actually attribute to God, and how when we don’t believe incredible things in our lives can happen we aren’t realizing the full power of God (or something along those lines, you know what I mean). It got me thinking a bit about growing up in the church and how many kids raised in the church (so called “second generation Christians”) end up straying from the church, and how I felt like I got a bit of a cheat sheet in that area. I remember being in some sunday school class somewhere along the line and they were like “who’s had prayer requests that they’ve had answered by God?” and all the other kids were like “well I won my baseball game!” or “when I had the flu I got better!” and I was just like “well I actually prayed a human being into existence by praying for a little sister for three years until it happened” and I just remember the teacher being like........don’t know how to follow that up lol. Anyway. Service ended and I went to the volunteer lounge for our huddle up, it was the last week with one of the family ministries leaders, so we did a whole little celebration for him which was nice. When I got up to the baby’s room I was alone at first and one of the leaders/my friend came in and was like “oh you’re definitely not supposed to be alone, there were like 3 people signed up” so I did end up getting another person. Things went pretty smoothly overall, we ended up with 6 babies at one point, but ended up having to text the parents of this one little girl who was so adorable but was just not having it, she kept reaching towards the door and yelling “mama, mama!” as she cried and I was like damn, I can’t take this lol but besides that there were no real tears, everyone did pretty well together. There was a super adorable little boy who I’m pretty sure already turned 2 but if they want to keep him with the babies that’s fine with me, he wasn’t really engaging at first but after several attempts he got into it and was having fun. And there was this super cute little 11 month old girl who is the spitting image of her dad, her dad is definitely mixed race and it looks like her mother might be as well (I’m just speculating obviously) but the baby has that like, super adorable darker skin lighter hair and eyes thing going on and gosh, she’s just so damn cute lol. She’s still at the stage where she can’t fully stand up on her own, but will try to find anything she can grab onto to help pull herself up, which can be problematic when she’s grabbing on like, the dirty diaper disposal haha but nothing too bad. There was a 7 month old little girl, and another one who was 19 months, both of whom were pretty calm, and there was the daughter of the couple who recently started heading up family ministries and she’s just the cutest little thing, she’s just got the whole chubby baby thing going on and she gives the best hugs and is so cute. So that went pretty well. After it ended I went back to the blue line train, but then switched over to the red line because I was going to meet Jess at the tattoo place to go with her to get her tattoo, so I did that and then walked down to the place, it was right across the street from the Target I generally go to so I knew where it was. They had bit of a wait so we ended up sitting and talking for a while, which was good because we hadn’t seen each other in like a month so we had a lot of catching up to do. Then her name got called so she was talking with the guy about what she wanted done, and I chatted for a few minutes with another guy about the tattoo situation on me wrist (being that I got a white ink tattoo on it in January 2014 and then in July 2016 broke my wrist and ended up with a giant surgery scar right through my tattoo) and they basically said white ink tattoos are super hard to touch up because of the way the ink reacts to your body and it probably would not come out looking very good, so it'd probably be better to let it fade (they’re supposed to fade out it like 10 years, which I was aware of when I got it because it was another way I could be like “well if I decided I don’t want it anymore I can just let it fade and it’ll be gone” to my parents about it) and then maybe try something else in a different location, so I’m going to think about it, another option would be to get another tattoo on top of the old one, but I feel like that would be difficult to do without adding some color, and the whole point of it being white ink was to not draw attention to it because lawyer and I’m already kind of toeing the line of professionalism with my bright red hair and multiple ear piercings. so we’ll see, I’ll think about it, maybe in a few years when I’m somewhat established in the legal world. But yeah, they printed up Jess’ thing and made a stencil, and we came back and did the tattoo, during which we talked about Divergent and I was explaining my theory on how the hogwarts houses transfer into the Divergent factions (Amity and Abnegation are both just Hufflepuff, Dauntless is half gryffindor half slytherin, candor is half gryffindor half ravenclaw, and erudite is half ravenclaw half slytherin) (clearly I’ve put a lot of thought into this) as she squeezed my hand and was super brave through the whole thing (I know she doesn’t read these but I hope she knows I’m super proud of her for dealing with a whole lot of shit and making it out the other side still being an awesome human being). So once they finished up we ran over to the Target to get tattoo aftercare supplies, namely Aquaphor (which is apparently like bacitracin, I recognized the name but didn’t know what it actually was) and Dial hand soap, while I needed to pick up some make up removing wipes, and ended up grabbing a really cute pair of shorts because they were really cute and were my size and not made out of polyester and ended up being on sale, so, they were clearly a reasonable purchase. Checked out, I got a sour watermelon icee that I had been wanting to try (I got a super small one and I still couldn’t finish the whole thing without it burning my mouth, lol) and Jess got a passion tea/lemonade from the starbucks. So we then walked over to where she parked, and drove over to my place where she dropped me off and then went to lay in bed for the rest of the night because the seatbelt was like, apparently right on top of where the tattoo was and it was super painful so that sounded like a good plan. I got to my apartment and decided I wanted to make the parmesan noodle soup I made like a week or so ago for dinner which I realize contains like 800 calories in pasta but I don’t really care because it’s really good. So I did that, then waited for the Brooklyn 99 season finale to come on. Can I just say, I’m so proud of this show. I binged seasons one and two in preparation for season three because it was announced that Archie Panjabi was going to be on an episode and I was still hardcore on my Archie Panjabi kick at that point, especially for supporting work she did after she left TGW after being treated so poorly. But I ended up really liking the show so I kept watching, and like, suddenly it was everywhere and everyone was watching it and it was just this super awesome show everybody loved and it made me so happy. Obviously the season finale is a big deal, they really should’ve made it an hour special, but they did just fine in their half hour slot fitting in all the craziness that had to accompany a Jake/Amy wedding. So that made me happy. Once that was over I switched over to Netflix, and finished the episode of the great british baking show masterclass (the masterclass is basically just the two judges making their super awesome versions of what the contestants on the actual show had to make and it’s nuts but also super calming to watch. Once that was over I decided to start episode two of 13 Reasons Why’s second season, I figured I’d intercut watching it with british people baking as to not get too depressed about it. There was definitely a tonal shift in the show from last season to now, partially just because people are constantly dropping f-bombs which very much did not happen last season, and just generally being racier with things. I still have a lot of mixed feelings about the show, and I’m not terribly sure it’s something I want to endorse, but I at least want to watch it so I can make an informed decision on it. And again, I do feel some loyalty to it from having read the book all those years ago. The tone its take is definitely strange, though. The courtroom scenes continue to bother me because again, the defense’s entire case is bullshit inadmissible under rule of evidence 404 character evidence and is basically a victim blaming nightmare and has obviously been super traumatizing for all of the kids who they’ve had testify so far. The whole Jessica/Bryce situation is clearly incredibly volatile, and I very much hope it ends in Bryce having to face up to his crimes. The Alex storyline is interesting, it was an intriguing choice to go with a memory loss plot from his suicide attempt at the end of last season, so I’m interested to see how that’s going to play out. As far as Clay and Hannah and Skye are concerned, very much mixed feelings as well. Clay is of course clearly suffering from trauma and likely needs a mental health intervention, and not just because he’s quite literally seeing ghosts. Something about how they wrote Skye in this last episode kind of got under my skin, just that they’re going for the whole ~insecure artsy girl~ thing and I realize that’s most likely because I recognize the similarities of her with my own life and though I’m doing much better overall I do definitely still hate parts of me and that’s very much one of them. But yeah, it was a lot, so after that I watched two british baking episodes before starting to get ready for bed. It’s just past 1:30 am and I don’t have to be up for anything tomorrow, but I don’t want to waste the entire day sleeping in, so I’m going to call it a night here. Goodnight loves. Hope you have a kickass Monday.

#daily journal #May 2018 #tw: 13 reasons why #tw: suidice

1 note · View note

skylarmiller04-blog · 6 years

Text

James Dean- The Rebel With a Cause

In the past few years, Taylor Swift has become a well-recognized singer who appeals to young girls and teenagers. All six of her albums have had hit songs and one of her most recent albums, 1989, stayed the number one hit album for a record amount of time. That album happened to include Style, a song written about Harry Styles and their time together. The song used catchy lyrics, had a nice beat to it, and the words happened to stick in my head. In it, she compares Harry Styles to James Dean by making the reference, “you’ve got that James Dean daydream look in your eyes” (Swift 2014). Not many people can say that they have a look named after them, but James Dean can. As much as I don’t like to admit it, I didn’t really know who James Dean was until I heard Swift’s song. After listening to Style I was curious on who James Dean was and proceeded to research him. I found out that he was an actor in the fifties prior to his tragic death at the age of twenty-four. I don’t know if I could pinpoint what exactly it is that draws me in towards James Dean, but he certainly interests me and I hope to figure out why. Even though he died at a young age, James Dean is considered “a Cool original,” to many people, like Pountain and Robins, the authors of Cool Rules: Anatomy of an Attitude (70). Not only has he had songs written about him, like James Dean by the Eagles, but people, like James Franco, have styled themselves after him. Having managed to become an iconic actor after starring in only three movies, Dean’s level of influence is unprecedented. Something I have noticed about James Dean is that there is not just one thing that draws my attention towards him. Not only was he attractive, but he was also a rebel both on the screen and in real life. As sad as it is to admit it, I have not met a rebel and am starting to think that I haven’t met any rebels and cool people because the first thing they tend to do is drop out of school and I have been in school all of my life. Something that is essential to cool is dropping out of school, which Gwendolyn Brooks argued for in her poem, We Real Cool, by writing “we real cool. We left school” (1). It’s a known fact that cool people tend to drop out of school; just look at Rihanna, Charles Dickens, and Elton John. They chose to abandon the education system to pursue their passions. And let’s not forget that Marlon Brando was expelled for riding a motorcycle down his school’s hallway. The bottom line is that cool people do not stay in school. Whether they leave voluntarily or not, they are still leaving and that is what matters. So it is no surprise that in 1951, James Dean dropped out of the University of California, Los Angeles to pursue acting. That was a cool move on his behalf, and his acting career skyrocketed afterwards. If I were given the option to drop out, I don’t think I would take it. To me the surest path to success is by attending and graduating college. Sure I could drop out and become the next Steve Jobs or James Dean, but the odds of that happening are low. While this may not be the coolest move on my behalf, I am going to fully commit to school, not just cruise on by. I am going to take a rigorous course load, actually learn what is being taught and not just memorize information for tests, and I am going to be proud of graduating from college. School isn’t for everyone, that’s why people leave it when the opportunity arises, but others stay in school and that’s fine too. Despite what Brooks argued, I don’t necessarily think school is uncool. I think it has more to do with the amount of effort people put to their education. If one don’t want to put in the work, then he should drop out. But if he stays in the system, he should really commit to it and take control of his learning. After all, control plays an integral role in cool and if people have control over their education, then to me that makes it cool. As aforementioned, James Dean starred in three movies prior to his death- Rebel Without a Cause, East of Eden, and Giant. In Rebel Without a Cause, Dean took on the role of a high schooler named Jim Stark who recently moved to a new town and didn’t really start off on the right foot there. In fact, the film began with him passed out in the middle of a street where police officers found him and took him to the station (Ray 1955). If that doesn’t scream rebel, then I don’t know what does. James Dean perfected the role of being a rebel in Rebel Without a Cause. The title of the movie clearly speaks for itself and James Dean set the path for teenage rebels of future generations to come. James Dean was known for being one of the first teenagers in America. In the past, people were either boy or man, girl or woman. But, Dean managed to create this in-between space that didn’t really exist before. Of course people still went through the ages of thirteen to nineteen, but they took on more of an adult role. For instance, when my grandparents were nineteen, they were already married and my grandfather started a construction company. But at nineteen, James Dean was attending UCLA trying to figure out what he would do with his life, kind of like what I am currently doing. Right now, I am at UM trying to figure out what I want to major in, if I want to transfer universities, and what I want to do with my life. These are all major decisions to make in today’s world, but this was uncommon in the past. Teens prior to Dean, and myself, did not have that privilege, they had more responsibilities and had to take care of themselves and sometimes their families. Thus, James Dean created the American teenager. Something worth noting is that Dean didn’t only create the American teenager, he also created the rebel. While some people thought this teenage rebellion was a ploy for attention, and a phase angsty kids go through, others sympathized with Dean and saw him as “a rebel with a cause, and that cause was escape from the suffocating web of family ties, school, suburban respectability and labour discipline that the new ‘mass society’ imposed” (Pountain and Robins 70). In other words, he was rebelling against things I am drawn towards. Just because Dean got to live the life of a teenager doesn’t mean his life was easy. In fact, he was mostly raised by his aunt and uncle after his mother passed away when he was nine. The death of a parent deeply affects and influences a child and I’m sure Dean was no exception, perhaps this is where his fascination with the macabre came from. Also, let’s not forget that while he was living with his aunt and uncle, Dean was molested by Reverend James DeWeerd (“James Dean Biography”). This is another area where Dean and I differ. The most difficult thing I have had to deal with was my parents getting a divorce. Perhaps this was the event that triggered Dean to have sexual encounters with many people, like Marlon Brando, Marilyn Monroe, Steve McQueen, and Pier Angeli, or perhaps that abuse was part of what added to his broody, mysterious, and rebellious aura. Something I find it ironic is that James Dean wasn’t an advocate for teenage rebellion even though he symbolized it. In fact, he advocated for teens to do the opposite and follow the rules. For instance, during an interview with a sheriff Dean was asked how he felt about teenagers speeding. He responded by saying people shouldn’t drive fast because it’s not safe and is dangerous. But he seemed to be a into hypocrisy considering he died speeding in a Porsche. So, while Dean might not have verbally encouraged this kind of teenage rebellion, his actions made him the epitome of it. To me, this is uncool. His actions and words contradicted each other. I hate it when people, like my grandfather, tell me, “do as I say, not as I do.” If I am supposed to act in the way someone is telling me to, but they don’t act that way, then why should I? Perhaps that was why teens didn’t heed Dean’s advice on driving the speed limit. Maybe they figured that if he wouldn’t take his own advice, then why should we? In this instance, I think they were cooler than he was. I’m also fascinated that James Dean’s motto seemed to be “live fast, die young, [and] leave a good looking corpse,” which he did all of the above (“James Dean Quotes”). He was constantly involved in risky activities, like smoking, speeding, and racing, died at a young age, and was quite handsome at that time. It makes me wonder if his mindset made it inevitable that he would die young. If he didn’t die on September 30th, would he have died the next day, month, or year? Once again I don’t have an answer to this, no one does, but when one involve himself in activities like he did, death is a factor that needs to be acknowledged. Something cool that I think James Dean did was that he seemed to acknowledge the fact that life is about balancing living and dying. He, like many cool people, flirted with death. He acknowledged the fact that at some point he will die and there is no in acting like immortality is a thing. My father once told me there are two things you have do in life, pay taxes and die. So when you acknowledge death, you can dance and flirt with it by pushing the boundaries of living that border death. James Dean’s favorite way to flirt with death was by driving fast cars and breaking speed limits. This is portrayed in the Eagles song, James Dean, in which they wrote “along came a Spyder and picked up a rider” (Eagles). James Dean wasn’t nicknamed ‘One Speed Dean’ for no reason. His one speed was fast and that ended up costing him his life. He even received a speeding ticket hours before his death, but that didn’t slow him down. So sometimes flirting with death, means that death wins, but eventually everyone will die. It is an inevitable truth humans cannot escape. No matter how hard one tries, he cannot outrun death, even I am guilty of trying to avoid death. I go to Zumba classes and eat kale and quinoa salads somehow thinking that this will increase my chances of outrunning death, even though I know that’s impossible. This is uncool on my behalf seeing as humans cannot control when they die. But sometimes the unexpected happens and death comes earlier than expected. James Dean was no exception to this. In fact, Pountain and Robins argue that Dean’s “untimely death in a car crash sealed his status as Cool’s first martyr” (70). As aforementioned, James Dean died at the age of twenty-four. This makes me wonder, do we regard him as highly as we do because he died so young? James Dean only starred in three movies before he died. That isn’t a lot to base a movie career on. Think about it, Robert Redford and Clint Eastwood have both starred in over forty-five movies each. That shows that they are both actors have strong acting skills that make them sought after to star in movies, but James Dean doesn’t have that kind of track record, per se. The three movies he starred in, he received praise for, but if he didn’t crash his Porsche on September 30, 1955, would his career have continued to carry on the upward trend it was on or would it have plateaued or even plummeted? While no one knows the answer to this question, it is interesting to think about. Also, James Dean would’ve not only continued to act if he didn’t die, but he also would’ve continued to age. It would be interesting to see what he would’ve looked like as he grew older. I think one of the reasons people, like Pountain and Robins, regard James Dean as “a Cool original,” is because he was and is so attractive (70). Thanks to photography becoming more widespread in the twentieth century, James Dean was captured on film quite frequently, which wasn’t common in the past. These photos show what James Dean represents and why he is considered attractive to many people, including myself. In one of his many pictures, Dean is shown reading a large book, The Complete Poetical Works by James Whitcomb Riley, at a kitchen table while smoking at the same time (Farr). Not only is smoking an act of rebellion, but it is also wildly attractive, especially when caught on camera. The way Dean is holding the cigarette in his hand is almost as if he is dangling it between two fingers (Farr). In fact, he doesn’t really have a grip on it. He manages to hold the cigarette in a nonchalant and subtle way that if one were to glimpse at the picture, he might overlook it. Not only is the cigarette an attractive aspect of the picture, but the glasses he is wearing and the book he is holding are as well. As stereotypical as it may be, when I see someone reading a book, I think they are intellectual and that makes them attractive. And the round eyeglasses Dean is wearing give him a touch of geek chic. Something that is cool about James Dean in this photo is the fact that he isn’t smiling at the camera like most people do. In fact, he isn’t even looking at the camera- he’s reading his book (Farr). That’s a cool move, he’s not being cheesy and smiling like most people, including myself, would do. James Dean’s pose is not the only attractive part of him in the picture. He himself is attractive. He’s both young and handsome, and that essence is captured in this photo, like all James Dean photos considering he did not live past the age of twenty-four. Not only was his face wrinkle free, but his hair was still on his head and he was sporting the messy bed head (Farr). His hair wasn’t neat and gelled back, it was messy and unkempt, standing up in different directions, and yet he still looked attractive, maybe even more so. I think this James Dean is attractive in this picture because he managed to do so in an effortless way. But, I don’t think I would see him as attractive as I do if he lived to grow older seeing as some people do not age well. Another thing worth noting is that Dean lived and acted in the mid-fifties, which was roughly seventy-two years ago. A lot of things have happened in those seventy-two years. People have walked the moon, started carrying phones on them, and constantly use the Internet which was nonexistent in 1955. Society has changed drastically and while people, like myself, may not want to admit it, it affects who they are. If James Dean was born sixty years later than he was, I’m sure he would still be a rebel today, but it would be interesting to see society’s effect on him.

1 note · View note

thevioletquinn · 4 years

Photo

THE MAKING OF A SINNER // SELF PARA

Who: Violetta Quinn/Kozma, Szilveszter Kozma, Lucien Chase What: The night Violet lost her virginity. Where: Caravan home, Casino Security Office, Four Seasons hotel. (Las Vegas) When: Friday 24th October, 2014 Mentions: Dora Kozma, Lily Kozma, Eszter Kozma Trigger Warnings: Underage Sex, Underage drinking, Sexual Abuse, Mentions of Leukemia Word Count: 3,000 (in this essay, i will...)

(Before reading this, please note the trigger warnings as this is a very distressing self paragraph but important as to why Violet is the way she is. It is by no means graphic in those triggers but it is mentioned and insinuated ~ Laura)

Sex. Everyone talked about it at school and many claimed to have done it when they hadn’t. That was the way to seem popular for guys. The guys were saints for how many girls they claimed to have had in their bed while the girls they chose to claim as their bedfellows were to be riddled with words like whore when they had literally done nothing to deserve it. It had always been that way. Violet being a pretty girl, she’d often be claimed by men as theirs and she just took it on the chin because it wasn’t worth the tears. It was just sex. It wasn’t as big of a deal as everyone made it out to be. That’s what she thought anyway while she was still a virgin.

The day after her 15th birthday, a Friday, and it was fair to say Violet was excited. A friend had parents out of town which meant they could host a birthday party for herself at her friend’s house on the Saturday while she claimed her own was under renovation. Violet was an expert at pretending. No one ever knew that she lived in a tiny caravan with her parents and her little sister. Violet painted a picture-perfect life for her and her family. She made it easy for Lily to get on in school without any form of bullying because she was the cool older sister that everyone in Lily’s grade knew about. For now, one more sleep until the party could begin.

Her father was the only one home when she returned since Lily was studying at a friend’s house and her mother was working a shift at the local burger joint. It was a small diner and most of the income from it came from tips she gained as a waitress but she often worked herself to death. Her father had recently been very close to being fired until a proposal came along which changed everything for Violet and her father. “Violetta. Please, sit. I need to speak with you.” He addressed her while his hand gestured for her to sit down on the other part of the couch. The young girl didn’t need to say anything and simply did as she was told. Szilveszter took his time to think about how he was going to phrase his words despite spending the past hour debating the best way to put this idea across to his daughter. It was something no father should have even considered for their daughter but when times were hard...

“Violetta.” Inhale. “I’m going to ask you to do something for the sake of this family and I need you to understand how much good this will do for us – you, your mother, your sister, me – it will change our lives.” Inhale. “My boss. When you came to the casino last weekend to bring me the lunch I forgot, my boss’s son saw you and...” Inhale. “...he was quite taken with you.” Inhale. “He asked how old you were and I may have lied and said you were twenty-one.” Inhale. Sweat on the forehead now dripping down his face. “He wants a date but he’s willing to...” Inhale. Eyes averting to the floor. “...pay for you to spend some time with him. Get cozy with him.” Inhale. Eyes returning to his daughter. “I would have said no but my jobs on the line here and if I lose this job, your mother can’t afford to keep up afloat here. We’d be on the streets. I really need you to do this for us, Violetta.” Eyes pleading now.

Violet sat in silence to try and take in everything that was being thrown at her. “So I just have to spend some time talking to his guy and he pays you some money? That... doesn’t sound disastrously hard?” She questioned, trying to understand. He’d already said yes for her which was clear in his ramblings of the story. Subtle but she caught that. “I can spend time with him. When?”

“Tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.” Her father resaid. He smiled when he knew he had her on side. It was all coming together. They would finally have some money. “He’s sent some things for you to wear. After this is done, we can sell them. They look awfully expensive. We’ll finally have enough money to live, Violetta. You’re going to do so well. I’m so proud of you.” He kissed her forehead to then stand up and pull the two bags from under the small dining space. “You’ll do great. I’ll take you to work and he said he’d pick you up from the security office. 7o’clock.” Szilveszter left the two bags on the dining room table and with a wave, left to get food before his shift.

Violetta looked in to the two bags to find a gorgeous red Jessica Rabbit styled dress and a pair of shoes between the two bags with a real ruby necklace to match. It was gorgeous. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad? Stand in a pretty dress, laugh at some rich casino owner’s son’s jokes and leave with a cheque. It sounded simple.

They took the 6:00pm bus from the trailer park to the center of Las Vegas where her father worked security at one of the casinos. A outfit change in the bathrooms and some time spent on make-up to make herself presentable for him left them at 7 o’clock in the security office waiting for the gentleman to arrive. Her father stuffed his hand in to his pocket to retrieve his personal rosary beads and handed them to her. “Good luck.” He told her with a smile but it seemed like there was something more to it. Although Violet couldn’t shake the feeling that her dad knew something she didn’t, she chose to trust him. He was her father, after all! Why wouldn’t she trust him? He had no reason to let harm come her way... right?

A knock tapped against the door and her father walked outside first and closed the door. She could hear muffled voice talking from inside. Something about money and the gentleman saying only after but she could understand that much. If she didn’t do good, no money. Her father walked back inside and held the door for a man with sun-kissed skin and a smile involving his beaming white teeth. Very dark brown hair that could be mistaken for black in some lighting and beautiful blue eyes. He looked like the person you would draw if you pictured a debonair tall dark and handsome gentleman – right down to the cufflinks on his suit. His hand extended out for her to take. “Shall we?”

Before Violet knew it, she was ushered in to a limo to wind up at the luxurious Four Seasons hotel. A penthouse suite. he’d never been anywhere so fancy. Even when her family had money to make the move to America, they weren’t rich. Not like this. Her eyes sparkled at her surroundings without knowing what to take in first. It was a moment that the gentleman was enjoying watching from the doorway. The way Violet moved around the room slowly to take every inch of the room in before finally stopping at the window to look at all the lights from the casinos and streets. It seemed to go for miles and miles. He joined to her side with his hands behind is back.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Stunning.”

“I feel I should finally introduce myself properly. I’m sure your father mentioned me but it would seem rude of me not to actually formally introduce myself. I’m Lucien. Lucien Chase.” Lucien turned to take her hand, placing a kiss against her knuckle but eyes remaining locked on her face. “It is entirely my pleasure to meet you, Violetta.” The name caught her off guard. Since coming to America, she had always been introduced as Violet with Violetta becoming more of a family name only but she kept the smile on her face.

“Well, I still believe it is a pleasure to meet you too, Lucien.”

A knock on the door interrupted them but Lucien still held her hand for that brief moment longer to make it last before finally releasing her and walking to the door where a man in a suit but clearly more staff than part of the rich lifestyle entertained with a bucket filled with ice and a bottle of champagne resting inside. On top, a small dish filled with chocolate coated strawberries which were removed from the ice and placed on to the table next to the couch. Once the staff had left, he turned his attention to the bottle of champagne which he promptly opened and poured in to two glasses; one of which was handed to the brunette girl.

“I propose a toast to new friendships and spending time with a beautiful woman who looks gorgeous in a red dress.” He cheered and clinked their glasses together. Violet had drank alcohol before without her parents knowing. Sleepovers at her friends house usually ended up with teenagers raiding their parents liquor cabinets in the night to get drunk. It wasn’t much of a problem but she had never drank a lot before. She’d had, however, never drank champagne before so the taste was something to get used to but she didn’t let it show on her face.

After an hour or so of drinking and laughing at his stories and eating chocolate coated strawberries held by the other, he put his drink to the table and a hand on her leg. “I did buy something else for you to make this evening even more special. I would love for you to try it on for me. It’s in the bathroom.” He suggested but he knew it was more of an instruction for her to follow. The worst part being that her own naivety of the situation had led her to this part and she still didn’t know what was to come.

A box lay on the marble side of the sink with a pretty red ribbon wrapped around it. Curious, the brunette pulled the ribbon until it unwrapped and lifted the lid of box. All colour drained from her rosy cheeks. She wasn’t oblivious to what was inside. She knew lingerie when she saw it. That’s when everything clicked to her. She wasn’t here to laugh at his jokes. Her father had sold her for sex. To please him. She could have walked out right there and then but then she thought about her family. She betted that her mother and sister were entirely unaware of where Violet was tonight and what her father had done to her. They didn’t deserve to be out on the streets – as her father phrased it – because she couldn’t go through with it. Sex. The boys and girls at school who claimed to have had sex always said he was easy. It couldn’t be that difficult to work out, right? One sacrifice and they could have better lives. “Are you okay in there?” His voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah. Sorry, just using the toilet!” She replied. Removing the red dress to drape on the floor, she was working out how to even put the lingerie on to begin with. The bra and pants were easy. Pulling the stockings up without ripping them was a slight hindrance especially with her inebriated state thanks to the champagne. And then the middle section to connect on to the stockings was the most challenging on all. Hearing a knock at the door, Violet sucked in a long breath and wiped the sole tear from her cheek and put on a smile.

Opening the door, Violet leaned against the doorframe. “So?” She asked, waiting for his opinion. She wanted to try and play like she had at school. Act like she had had sex before. It couldn’t be hard, right? She could see how his jaw dropped as his eyes ate up every inch of her body. She never felt more naked and vulnerable in her life. He didn’t say anything to answer his opinion, he simply moved his hand to her back and pulled her in to a kiss. She’d kissed boys before at school but she still felt insecure about everything she was doing in that moment.

Lucien didn’t waste a moment to practically carry her to the bed and lay her down. He knelt at her legs and looked down at her. “When your father told me you were a virgin, I couldn’t believe it. A beautiful girl like you must have enticed a man or two to her bed so I ask you, be honest: is this your first time?” He asked while his thumb played at her knee. There were two emotions she felt by that. Relief that she didn’t have to pretend that she had a clue what she was doing in this department. Anger that her father had sold her virginity to a stranger. A man he had probably not met until that moment.

Violet nervously bit her lip and nodded, looking down. He moved to hover over her and moved her head up to look at him with his thumb. “That’s all I needed to know. Gentle and slow. Got it.” He promised and kissed her again. Lucien had been a total gentleman for the entirety of the night – from start to finish – but that didn’t mean she was happy.

Her head turned back to the window while he did everything he possibly could to her body. She’d watch the lights of the casinos. Occasionally she’d try to look for stars in the sky but when he’d change positions so she couldn’t see out of the window anymore, she’d retreat in to her own mind. Her headspace moved to her time in the hospital with Dora. How brave her sister had been throughout her battle with Leukemia. How Dora would tell her to be brave now. To make it to tomorrow because tomorrow was another day. That’s how Dora saw the world. One day at a time. Today’s defeat is tomorrow’s victory. God, she missed Dora. Everything changed when she died. All Violet ever wanted was to help her family through the hardest times in their lives. That’s why she did tonight. For the sake of her family she would make this sacrifice but she would never allow this fate to happen to Lily. This wouldn’t be Lily’s destiny. She’d make sure her father knew how she felt on that matter.

Her hands moved the covers over her body once he lay next to her, panting and sweaty from this experience. Violet kept her eyes at the ceiling, blinking. Once he collected himself, he poured them both another drink of the champagne which he seemed to down in one. Probably to get back in some fluid after how much had sweated out of him. “You should go to the toilet, by the way. It’s hygienic after sex to flush it out basically.” He explained since he knew she had no idea what to do.

Violet shuffled herself to the toilet and locked the door. Her back rested against the door as her hand moved to cover her mouth. She didn’t want to make a sound while her back slid down the door until she was sat on the floor crying without trying to be heard. Her knees pulled up to her chest. Once she felt stable enough to move again, she finished up in the bathroom and got rid of the makeup that was stained on her cheeks from the crying and made sure she looked back to how she did when she first came in. The girl slinked back in to the red dress and put the lingerie back in to the box.

Back in to the main room where Lucien lay on the bed, she put on her brightest smile for him. “This has been incredibly fun and I thank you for being such a gentleman for me but I think it’s my time to leave.” Violet told him while walking over to the bed. She leaned down and gave him a kiss.

“You’re forgetting something.” He told her before getting back out of the bed and walking to a briefcase that had been in the room the whole time. He took out an envelope of cash and handed it to her. “The thousand dollars for your father.” Lucien informed her (It was interesting to know just how much Violet was worth to her father). “However, if your father was a smarter man, he definitely should have asked for more money given just how beautiful you are so...” Lucien rifled through some papers until he found his cheque book and wrote out another two thousand dollars for herself. “... that one is for you and you alone.”

Violet didn’t stick around too much longer but did thank him again before she left. He let his own limo take her back to the casino as she requested and marched back to the security office where her dad was. “Violetta! How did it g-?” He welcomed her but was quickly stopped when she poured the bills out of the bag and on to the floor. Her father was quick to scramble to the floor to pick up the bills which made a cold single laugh escape her chest.

“I hope it was worth it, Dad.”

Sex. They were right. It wasn’t that hard. Not if you knew how to harness it. Violet did go back and get paid by Lucien numerous times after this. He taught her almost everything she knows about sex and he was essentially her manager during her escort career in Las Vegas. She made sure she wouldn’t ever feel like a victim during sex again. She made sure she could harness all the power she could from this experience.

#headcan #selfpara

0 notes

justdharapatelstuff-blog · 6 years

Text

Is Frida Kahlo a personality to strive to be?

Editorial: Is Frida Kahlo a personality to strive for?

July 13th, 1954, 8:00 AM Coyoacán, Mexico City, Mexico

With heavy hearts, the writers at The News of Cool regret to inform the public that renown painter and figure Frida Kahlo died early this morning, mere days after we did an interview with her. A prominent artist in the first half of the twentieth century, Frida Kahlo has made significant moves in art, putting Mexican art on the map. For her age, she has made significant developments in modern art, and has gone through significant difficult periods in her life. Experiencing polio, a devastating car crash, and multiple divorces has affected the way she looks at life, and her interesting political stance makes Kahlo different from any female artist of her time.

Some know the astounding self-portraits that Kahlo has released since her adolescence, such as “Henry Ford Hospital” and “The Broken Column”. What most do not know is the premise of her personal life, what caused her to paint these chilling pieces, her political stance, and her fascinating romantic relationship with fellow artist, Diego Rivera. In honor of her legacy, I am proud to present snippets of our interview with her, and the highlights of her life as a cool persona. I say personae, because I believe that with her art, she created a personality. As a person, she was filled with physical pain and strife, but her persona was not. As you read through, remember to aim for her personality, not her physical being. As we are The News of Cool, we are not only to provide you news of what cool people do, but we also provide you inspiration for what you should strive for in your life.

In her final days, Kahlo was found in her home, weak and in a depressed state. When asked her inspiration for her art, she answered with a very frank answer. She replied to the question with: “I paint self-portraits because I am so often alone, because I am the person I know best” (Kahlo 2). Her style of self-portraits is best explained as her expressing what she believes she looks like on the inside and outside. I know that Kahlo has suffered ailing health in different shapes and forms throughout her life. She has experienced hardship through sitting in hospital beds, isolated, in pain of her injuries from polio, a bus crash, and an excruciating miscarriage. Her paintings show that when nobody is there for her except for herself, she paints what she feels on the surface of her face. She stated that “my painting carries with it the message of pain” (Kahlo 1). Take a look at some of her works. The “Broken Column” was created shortly after her devastating bus crash, leading her to be bed rested and be dependent on a metal rod for her back. She has tears streaming down her face, nails over her body, with a hospital sheet wrapped around her torso. She is crying, but yet, she exhibits a stoic and calm face. From our earlier issues of other cool personalities, we established that creating a front that one is completely familiar with their surroundings and confident in who they are is what is a defining point of cool. Here, Kahlo exhibits a component of cool in a picture of herself. Like other artists who experience pain, like Picasso towards the end of his life, she paints herself where it is almost as if agony does not affect her. When asked how she was able to paint herself in such a state, she replied defiantly. “I tried to drown my sorrows, but the bastards learned how to swim, and now I am overwhelmed by this decent and good feeling” (Kahlo 1). Her paintings were a method of alleviation. With her paintings, she pictured herself the way she wanted to be picture. She is what she paints. I followed up with the question: “What was the point when you realized that art was for you? What was the deciding factor you wanted to go down the path of inspiring others through art, like the Yoruba tribe in Africa?”

She responded with a simple answer: she matured. Like most cool humans of the 20th century, she has grown up too quickly. Experience is a huge part of cool. The more you experience, the more you can create your own freedom. Her art was almost entirely made up of her own experience. With the bus crash in her adolescence, she was forced to become an adult and experience grown-up things so quickly. She regarded her loss of childhood in the interview as “… a child who went about in a world of colors... My friends, my companions, became women slowly; I became old in instants” (Kahlo 3). She controlled her world from a young age, and from what I got from her description of her childhood, she learned how to take charge of situations beyond her own control. She exhibited grace under pressure. When I asked how she was so graceful under pressure, she brought up love.

Physical pain is a common occurrence in Frida’s life, similar to other “cool” personalities of the 20th century. She takes ownership of her suffering and channels it into art. Interestingly enough, as she grew and took initiative in her relationships and art, we see an interesting component in her life enter around the age she grows up: Diego Rivera. We see a similar theme in her relationship with Diego Rivera. We can all agree that Diego and Frida were an intriguing duo. I asked her what Diego meant to her, and how he influenced her paintings. She spoke about him for so long, but this sums it up: “Diego was everything; my child, my lover, my universe” (Kahlo 2).

Cool personalities are driven by love and sex. Kahlo was the perfect example of that. When we discussed her love for Diego and her art, they went hand in hand. She described to me that no matter if Diego was loyal to her, or was having an affair with another woman, like he did with Maria Felix, she will be upset, she will hurt, but she will never stop loving him. She went through periods, she said, where she channeled that anger into art Rivera. I see a perfect example in her work “Diego and I”. When Rivera cheated on Kahlo with Maria, (a perfect example of the pain he caused in her life), Kahlo said that “Nothing is comparable to your hands…My body fills itself with you for days and days” (Cosmic 1). She knew that being with him would be painful, but she would take him over anyone else. Even after they divorced, she only lasted a year without him before they remarried. Their relationship, as dysfunctional as it was, drove her to paint. I was curious as to why she would run back to him if he caused her that sort of pain, and she explained that “I am not sick. I am broken. But I am happy to be alive as long as I can paint” (Cosmic 1). She further explained that Diego made it easier for her to paint. If that is not cool to you, I do not know what is. A broken woman, affected by an affair and once in an affair herself, reveals herself. She creates an image that is so unlikable by others, so atrocious, but believes herself that her painting is beauty. Cool people find the balance between the stressors in their life to make it into art. She is different from Picasso in that she fully exposes the deepest, darkest components of her being, and yet looks so placid. Her comfort lied in her painting. Her discomforts of being cheated, being injured, and put last was overcome by painting. Her medium of cool was self-portraits, whereas Coco Chanel’s was fashion design.

What made Kahlo interesting was her bold political stance, one that we do not completely see in her paintings. Her strong political views made many dislike her. She was a strong believer in Marxism, and that people could only be helped by that power, and the Capitalists were the plague of the world. I wanted to know what caused her to be so displeased with the Capitalism powers. Her reply was lengthy and charged. Her visit to the United States in the early 30’s was the stem of her issue. She disliked the “dry” personalities of Americans, had “a bit of a rage against all the rich guys here, since I have seen thousands of people in the most terrible misery without anything to eat and with no place to sleep, that is what has most impressed me here, it is terrifying to see the rich having parties day and night whiles thousands and thousands of people are dying of hunger” (Kahlo 2).

She realized especially after her miscarriage of her child in Detroit, that Marxism was the only way everyone could be created equal, and that Capitalists only cared about themselves. She said that after being in a time of turmoil in a hospital bed in an unfamiliar country she hated, she began to believe the only way America could be helped was Communism. This change in political view changed her art. She became more invested in narratives in her paintings, as you can see in “Marxism will give health to the sick”. She holds the red book and draws Marxist symbols, and they tell the story of a society supported by Communism. She builds her whole character until she dies about Marxist views, she shows through her paintings that pain and suffering can be avoided by Marx and his views. Nobody liked her views, and many disagreed with her radical ideas. Cool people create unlikable opinions, and create radical art, as Kahlo did. Her final words for me were “They thought I was a Surrealist… I never painted dreams. I painted reality” (Cosmic 1). Cool people create, not dream. She leaves me with a persona who changed greatly throughout her life. Not a single year of her life was boring, and her personality was ever changing. She used her freedom to her advantage.

Frida Kahlo may not have been your first choice of a “cool” idol, but she exhibits qualities that will one day make her an idol. Her unibrow and her mustache are seen as her “ugly” characteristics now, but it will be an ideal seventy years down the road. In 2014, we will see students across the globe idolize her. Her unpopular communist opinion and her unapologetic Mexican feminist personality will be celebrated years from now. Take a look at the paintings featured in this article. They change throughout the short years of her life. Why did she change so much? To her, nothing is absolute. “Everything changes, everything moves, everything revolves, everything flies and goes away” (Cosmic 1). She told me that simply hating your life does not make anything easier. Make changes if you dislike your being, or stay in pain. She went on to say that she was the subject she knew the best, but aspire to know yourself better every day. Knowing all sides of yourself creates a sense of control of your imperfections and strong suites, as seen in her painting “The Two Fridas”.

Her imperfections have a power, just like Marilyn Monroe’s mole, or Coco Chanel’s comfortable fashion. She stands out amongst the 20th century women, because she takes the horrifying, bloody scenes of her world, and her cheating and affairs of her relationships and turns it into gold. I believe that her unlikable opinions now will turn into unique topics of conversation in the future. Her ideas on love, politics, constant change, and positivity make her a persona to strive to be. Many cool people live fast and die young. I asked her what she’s most proud of accomplishing thus far, and she said that “the little positive things that my health allows me to do might be pointed toward helping the [Marxist] revolution. The only real reason for living” (Cosmic 1). She lived up to Nietzsche’s believe in turning muck into gold, being a revolutionary of her time. She believed in changing the world through her superpower: painting. In seventy years, kids will be striving to be as free as she was, children will find inspiration in her art to hold private rebellion against their painful oppressors. I end with the answer to the most fun question I asked her, as she laid there in ailing health in la Casa Azul, which was: “what words describe you?”

Her poised response? “I was born a bitch. I was born a painter” (Cosmic 2).

0 notes