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soviet-history-detective · 4 years

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What is the cost of not respecting boundaries?

(For those who haven’t seen, Part 1 and Part 2) A quick rundown for the people who are wondering what’s going on: Hello, folks. I am one of the leading Chernobyl/Legasov researchers who runs this youtube channel. I found the audio fragments of Legasov tapes which became quite a hit and received praise from Craig Mazin. Legasov tapes, which the migty HBO couldn’t find with their Russian-speaking consultants and millions of dollars of budget. I found rare photos and pre-Chernobyl videos of Legasov, translated a substantial amount of documentary material on Soviet near history topics, a good chunk of that being on Legasov and Chernobyl. I am a live and let live kind of person and I was willing to look the other way with the Valoris shipping business cause “they were shipping the tv show characters and fangirling about the actors” so I ignored it and posted historical information, answered questions, unearthed and translated documentary videos and text material. Then I abruptly stopped and went quiet cause the shipper gang went too far and started writing gross shit, rape fantasies and dragging real people who weren’t even in the tv show into their godawful fics -one of them being someone I highly admire, respect and look up as an inspiration and role model notwithstanding.

They didn’t stick to Valoris, they had to involve the people who were not in the script at all. People whose names they learned from me. They had the audacity to discuss their fucked up fantasies (which they call headcanons) right under my nose, they couldn’t control themselves since they are completely driven by base animal instincts and some of them are downright sociopaths with no boundaries: Rabid and depraved, driven only by the primitive sexual instincts, with a two digit IQ, no understanding of boundaries, ethics, morals, completely bereft of common respect and decency. It’s creepy as hell -run for the hills kind of creepy. (When I say no ethics and morals I don’t mean only sexual perversions. One of them is notorious for plagiarizing other people’s content in multiple social media platforms and acting indifferent when called out.) So I got creeped out, grossed out, infuriated, disillusioned and went quiet. Blocked everyone who was associated with Valoris to avoid their gross thirst talks. Blocked the tag too. Stopped posting new finds after the last Legasov video compilation. Stopped translating videos and text material for a long while.

They are way past normal shipping. This is some seriously fucked up shit. Here are a couple of examples (Warning: Gross content, rape fantasies, scroll past the images and continue reading below if you can’t stomach or are a minor)

Here is more rape:

Their biggest argument is “We are writing fics about the fictionalized tv show characters” which is total and utter bullshit, because:

Nikolai Ryzhkov was not in the tv show at all.

Neither was Vladimir Gubarev. Why are they in those fics?

This isn’t all, there are public posts here where they were bouncing ideas and coming up with the most abhorrent fantasies about a real person who was NOT in the tv show. I don’t have the time to search them, plus they are really gross, you are better off not seeing it. (A paranthesis here: I’m totally indifferent about explicit fics if they involve only fictional characters and not promote rape culture. Just to make things clear.)

If you are using the names of real people, you are shipping real people. Period. I can write a fic using the shipper gang’s names in an alternate reality setting where they are an evil gang of cannibalistic cunts who raid maternity wards and butcher all the babies then burn puppies ad kittens alive for fun. Or I can write a fic where they all get sodomized with saguaro cacti dipped in ghost pepper sauce by sadistic rogue KGB agents. It’s fictionalized versions of them in an alternate universe after all, so it’s totally ok. Right? Well, there really is no point arguing these things, and that is not even the point of this post. I’m just saying it’s fucked up, creepy and wrong in every way.

Not to mention they bully and gaslight people who speak up against them. Grown ass women bullying a 15 year old and adding a transphobic comment after learning they are trans is NOT COOL. @ihatefandomsfuckyouall can testify as the target of their bullying. That’s wrong and creepy as hell.

HOWEVER. Like I said in the previous post, this won’t be about a holy jihad against shipping or some big anti-shipper crusade. Nope, nope and nope with nope sauce.

Ship away, ship all you want, ship till you drop, ship till you turn Fedex green with envy. I am not here to lecture sociopaths driven solely by primitive sexual instincts and bereft of any kind of boundaries, morals, common respect and decency. There is nothing I or anyone can do about it. Like i said, I have no intention of trying to talk sense into anyone or giving sermons. So rest assured that I am well aware it’s pointless and stupid to wage a war against shipping, however gross and vile it is. I can’t stop you from sexualizing anything that walks (or has been long dead) and spewing sick ass fantasies. I will repeat for those with two digit IQ: I know there is nothing I or anyone can do to stop you from doing what you are doing, absolutely nothing. So I will do NOTHING. Got it? Whoever claims otherwise is full of shit, I will do absolutely NOTHING, you got my word 100%.

Seriously I won’t hate on you, I won’t call for holy wars and witch hunts. So, rest assured, I will not make any move against any of you, nope. Besides I don’t have the time for that, I have a busy life and better things to do. No war, no hate, no screaming, no drama, nothing. Is that clear? Capiche? Comprende? Понятно?

Well, now let’s get to the heart of the matter:

I have been quiet but not idle. I’ve been contacting people, sending queries, making phone calls, digging state archive repositories. I have been finding material and boy did I find material! I happen to be one of the very few people who are blessed with an extraordinary ability to find things no one else can find. You have seen what I can find by utilizing search engines and going through links. Even Craig Mazin himself was mighty impressed with my finds, the proof is out there in public view, I won’t bother digging it up now.

Anyway. It turns out I can find hell of a lot more than that by contacting people, sending queries, making phone calls and digging through state archive repositories. Some of it costs pretty penny but no matter, I don’t mind paying for never-before-published video footage that is not on the internet. Some of it is not even digitized so you gotta pay extra fee for digitization and it can be quite high depending on the video length and media.

We are talking about HD videos here. There is excellent AI video processing software out there which can turn even the most primitive 19th century videos to crystal clear 60 fps HD so we are good. (Example: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5HbElEqm1TQ) I have photos that can’t be found by searching the internet. You’d drop dead if you saw some of them. I’m working on getting the full footage of Legasov’s IAEA presentation. It’s hella difficult, you have to personally go to Vienna and go through the seven hells and seven lower hells to obtain access. Also you need to be a research scientist with a reference letter. (All this info and list of requirements can be found on IAEA official site.) I won’t get into the details but I have it all sorted out, scientist and all. It wasn’t easy and it took a damn lot of time, effort, pulling family connections etc. Now the only remaining roadblock is this accursed coronavirus. As soon as the pandemic subsides a trip to Vienna shall be in order. The long Q&A session following Legasov’s report is unfortunately not available, but Legasov’s report certainly is (after fulfilling a laundry list of requirements.)

This is not all. There are photos (in addition to the publicly available ones I posted before) and video footage of Ryzhkov visiting Chernobyl, Legasov’s meetings, partial video of one Polituro meeting. There is this one precious footage where Legasov is laughing and drinking vodka. I won’t even say how many hours of work it took to find that. (Plot twist: I’m not the one who found it!) I have a pile of videos of Ryzhkov when he was the chairman of the council of ministers of the USSR, which are historical records of tremendous importance and not on Youtube. Buddies who have seen them had insta-man crush on him without even hearing my translation. Some of you would KILL for those, I know for a fact. For the Legasov drinking-partying video you would sell your soul to the devil (who wouldn’t?)

I have an IAEA report with an extremely rare photo you can’t find by searching. I won’t tell you who is in it cause I don’t want to supply anything you could use for your gross fics. Suffices to say one of them is someone you are drooling about and the other one is a big shot name that’s not on your radar and will unleash all kinds of fic ideas once you hear it. So nope. I ain’t giving you another Ryzhkov, I learned my lesson. I have video footage of that same man giving high praise to Legasov, talking with a tone of fondness, defending him against accusations. Such a sweet video. It put tears in my eyes. I can see you gang drooling a lake over that one so hell fucking no.

Did I mention I started translating Legasov documentaries? Every single one on youtube. Including the entire Звезда Полынь. Also planning to convert some Legasov footage to HD using the aforementioned software tools.

I have actually been posting videos and text material translations left and right, just out of your sight (nice rhyme, isn’t it?) 90% the material I listed above is either in the pipeline or in my hard disk. @tryingtobealwaystrying can verify. She helped out a great deal with the IAEA business and I owe her one for that. We are both individually damn good at finding stuff but it turned out we can work wonders as a team. As a result, we have a treasure trove of the highest order in hand and in the works.

And, here is the deal: YOU WILL SEE NONE OF IT.

N.O.N.E.

Not a shred. Not a pixel. Nothing. Ничего. Совсем нет.

Get it now? “You didn’t see it cause it’s not there!”

You won’t see it cause it won’t be there!

So, this is it. I can’t do anything about your shipping scumbaggery but I can cut off your supply and deprive you of material and information. You will NEVER be able to find any of it on your own (let alone afford the fees for.)

I will deprive you of the fruits of my labor.

Indefinitely.

Of course that doesn’t mean I’ll keep it all to myself. I will share them but not in public. In fact I have translated and posted some videos you wanted real bad, one of them got 1000 views overnight but they are not public, for my work is not for the eyes of the wicked and unclean miscreants. I post them in shipper-free foreign forums you can’t find and send links privately to decent, wholesome people who are interested in Chernobyl and Soviet history for the passion to learn and admiration for the historical figures, not for spinning depraved fantasies and writing horrendous, projectile-vomit-inducing sex fics. And -as those of you who possess three digit IQ’s might have figured out!- I am not alone in that. (Plot twist FTW!) Congrats, folks. You managed to alienate and drive away the top Chernobyl-Legasov researchers and translators with your hideous debauchery, extreme scumbaggery and abominable attitude. So, this is your punishment: NOTHING. This is the consequence you will deal with. This is the cost of your choices.

A big nothing is all you will ever get from now on.

See, told ya, there is absolutely nothing I can do about your gross shipping and scumbaggery so I will do NOTHING.

Got the joke? LOL. I have awesome humor don’t I :)

No more videos. No more photos. No more answers. No more translations. No more information.

You royally fucked up, people. You don’t get to eat the cake and the icing, especially not when you offend and insult the cooks, take a dump in the middle of the restaurant and masturbate while rolling in it. You could have kept it out of sight. You could have exercised some goddamn tact. But no, you had to behave like animals in heat.

Well, you can continue obsessing over the TV show scripts until you get sick of it. I will be posting translations of different parts of Soviet history like the WW2 era. You can ship Hitler and Stalin all you want. Get those headcanons rolling! I will even give you a prompt: Stalin cheats on Hitler with Mussolini. LMAO.

You know what, I take back the not a pixel thing. We may post screenshots from the videos and low-res crops from the photos from time to time just to rub it in your face.

Here is one where they are grilling Velikhov shortly after Legasov’s suicide. Oh boy you gotta see his face when they start bombarding him about Legasov’s death....

Here is the shot from a long video where the legendary Premier Ryzhkov is sporting the legendary 80′s Soviet glasses in all his superlative handsome glory. He is giving an interview about important historical turning points in this video and this isn’t even the best shot. You have to pay to get a copy but before that you need a superpower-like ability to find where it is in the first place. I scaled it up to 1440×1080 but not gonna put the high resolution version cause I’m such a darling.

Here is Ryzhkov in the famous white work attire of the Soviet era. Looks familiar, yes? Do I need to tell WHERE he is and what he is doing? (Hint: The year is 1986.)

Oh man, oh man. How worried he looks, so heart-wrenching. The footage is only about 3 minutes but absolutely solid gold. I won’t say whether there is Legasov or Scherbina or BOTH of them appearing in this footage cause I’m such a sweetheart.

Unfortunately I am not at liberty to post any Legasov shots cause I am not the finder of the Legasov videos we currently have at hand. Too bad, so sad. There you go. Enjoy your cold dish of nothing. Bon appetite. Adios amigas! WHAT IS THE COST OF NOT RESPECTING BOUNDARIES? @tryingtobealwaystrying @the--arch @ihatefandomsfuckyouall @rarravai @weronikaisback @live-long-and-time-warp @tryingtobealwaystrying @chernobylgal86

#chernobyl #valery legasov #legasov #boris scherbina #valoris #chernobyl nuclear disaster #Soviet History #soviet union #ussr #shippers take all the fun out of life #like cockroaches in the picnic #this is why we cant have nice things #ACCESS DENIED #NO SOUP FOR YOU

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adevotedappraisal · 4 years

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Magdalene by FKA Twigs, a review.

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I’ve been learning some shit from women from as long as I’ve been alive. Always some other shit that I never asked for but I got told it. I used to treat them things they said as laws as a child, but I never saw them in a book, so then I stopped believing them. They were always hushed laws though, laws told with squinted eyes and italicized whispers, laws told when no one else was around.

I mean, now of course men make the real laws that we know and live by. Well come on now, we write them on parchment, and display them on lights, we code them into computers, inscribe them on coins and stone. But these women…man women tell you some other shit, like glue shit, in low, muttered tones in the quiet part of the house. Like advice on… well not how the world works, but how to deal with the world when it works against you, and how to make it work for you. But you see, I’ve come to believe that the fairer sex tells you different laws than the vaunted laws and advice of our fathers because they all around see the world differently than men do. They may, in fact, have been harbouring different goals than us all along.

I mean for christssakes us men have our hero’s journey as clear as day, writ large and indelible across history books and entertainment. You could take that Joseph Campbell mono-myth theory and see it expressed in Arthurian swash-buckle, the middle earth ring-slaying of Tolkien, or in the recently concluded tri-trilogy of Star Wars galactic clashes. We’re in the empire business, as Breaking Bad’s Walter White infamously said. But still, the question always lingered to me: what is the heroine’s journey? Is it really just a lady in a knight’s armour? Or some tough-as-nails spy for some interloping government’s intelligence agency, delivering kidney kicks in a designer pencil skirt?

Well, I’ve come to believe that the heroine’s journey is navigating the waves of history we imperial and trans-national men make from our railroads and pipelines, our satellites and wars, them at once preserving a culture and sparking a path and creating a bond between cultures in order for them and their (il)legitimate brood to survive. That old chestnut about how behind every successful man is a woman always unnerved me by its easy adoption. I kept thinking ‘bout that woman. I kept thinking, what the fuck was she thinking?

You see women’s heroes, they ain’t as clear as day to me. They don’t kill the dragon, they don’t save the townspeople, they don’t shoot the Sherriff, or the deputy, or anyone most times. When I ask people in public at my job what super power they would like, most men go for strength, flight, and regenerative abilities (my pick). Most women went with mind reading and flight. In late night conversations though, with the moonlight coming through the white blinds and resting soft on us like so, I sometimes manage to hear that women’s heroes heal and clean the sick of the nation, in sneakers with heels as round as a childhood eraser; they feed a family with one fish and five slices of wonder bread; they would run gambling spots in the back of their house, putting the needle back on the Commodores record and patrolling the perimeter of the smoked-out room with a black .45 nested by their love handles; they climb up flag poles and speak out loud in public for the disposed and teach children those unwritten, floating laws while cloistered in the quiet part of the house.

Although their heroines are sometimes from the top strata of society –a Pharaoh here, an Eleanor Roosevelt there, an Oprah over there—they also name a healthy mix of radicals and weirdos with modest music success, people like Susan B. Anthony, Frida Kahlo, Virginia Woolf, or Nikki Giovanni, I mean did Nina Simone or Janis Joplin even crack the Billboard top ten? Yet there they are, up on the walls of a thousand college dorms across the country. So even though I couldn’t’ve foreseen it, it makes sense that of all the ultra-natural creatures, of all the great conquering kings and divining prophets of the Holy Bible, Mary Magdalene ends up the spirit animal for the album of the year for 2019.

Mary Magdalene was a follower of Jewish Rabbi Jesus during the first century, according to the four Gospels of the New Testament of the Bible, a figure who was present for his miracles, his crucifixion and was the first to witness him after his resurrection. From Pope Gregory I in the sixth century to Pope Paul VI in 1969, the Roman Catholic Church portrayed her as a prostitute, a sinful woman who had seven demons exorcised from her. Medieval legends of the thirteenth century describe her as a wealthy woman who went to France and performed miracles, while in the apocryphal text The Gospel of Mary, translated in the mid-twentieth century, she is Jesus’ most trusted disciple who teaches the other apostles of the savior’s private philosophies.

Due to this range of description from varying figures in society, she gets portrayed in differing ways, by all types of women, each finding a part of Magdalene to explain themselves through. Barbra Hershey, in the first half of Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ (1988) plays her as a firm and mysterious guide, a rebellious older cousin almost, while Yvonne Elliman, in Norman Jewison’s 1973 film adaptation of Lloyd Weber’s Jesus Christ Superstar is lovelorn and tender throughout, a proud witness of the Word being written for the first time. In “Mary Magdalene,” FKA Twigs, the Birmingham UK alt-soul singer, describes the woman as a “creature of desire”, and she talks about possessing a “sacred geometry,” and later on in the song she tells us of “a nurturing breath that could stroke you/ divine confidence, a woman’s war, unoccupied history.” Her vocals that sound glassy and spectral in the solemn echoes of the acapella first third, co-produced by Benny Blanco, turn sensual and emotive when the blocky groove kicks in. That groove comes into its own on the Nicolas Jaar produced back third, and when this all is adorned with plucked arpeggios it sounds like an autumnal sister to the wintry prowl of Bjork’s “Hidden Place” from her still excellent Vespertine (2001).

This blending of the affairs of the body and of Christian theology is found in the moody “Holy Terrain” as well. While it is too hermetic and subdued to have been an effective single, it still works really well as an album track. In this arena, Future is not the hopped up king of the club, but a vulnerable star, with shaded eyes and a heart wrapped up in love and chemicals, sending his girl to church with drug money to pay tithes. Over a domesticated trap beat he shows a vulnerable bond that can exist, wailing his sins and his devotion like a tipsy boyfriend does in the middle of a party, or perhaps like John the Baptist did, during one of his frenzied sermons, possessed and wailing “if you pray for me I know you play for keeps, calling my name, calling my name/ taking the feeling of promethazine away.”

Magdalene, the singer’s sophomore release, takes the mysterious power and resonance of this biblical anti-heroine, and involves its songs with her, these emotional, multi-textured songs about fame, pain and the break up with movie star boyfriend Robert Pattinson. With “Sad Day,” Twigs sings with a delicate yet emotional yearning, imbued with a Kate Bush domesticity. The synth pads are a pulsing murmur, and the vocal samples are chopped and rendered into lonely, twisting figures. The drums crash in only every once in a while, just enough to reset the tension and carve out an electronic groove, while the rest of the thing is an exercise in mood and restraint, the production by twigs, Jaar and Blanco, along with Cashmere Cat and Skrillex, leaves her laments cosseted in a floating sound, distant yet dense and tumultuous, the way approaching storm clouds can feel. Meanwhile “Thousand Eyes” is a choir of Twigs, some voices cluttered and glittering, some others echoed and filled with dolour. “If you walk away it starts a thousand eyes,” she sings, the line starting off as pleading advice and by the close of the song ending up a warning in reverb, the vintage synths and updated DAWs used to create these sparse, aural haunts where the choral of shes and the digital ghosts of memory can echo around her whispered confessional.

In many of these divorce albums, the other party’s role in the conflict is laid bare in scathing terms: the wife that “didn’t have to use the son of mine, to keep me in line” from Marvin Gaye’s Here My Dear from 1979; the players who “only love you when they’re playin’” as Stevie Nicks sang on Fleetwood Macs Rumours (1977); or as Beyonce’s Lemonade (2017) charges, the husband that needs “to call Becky with the good hair.” At first though, Twigs is diplomatic, like in “Home with me,” where she lays the conflict on both sides here, expressing the rigours of fame, the miscommunication –accidental or intentional –that fracture relationships, and the violent, tenuous silence of a house where one of the members is in some another country doing god knows what, physically or mentally. “I didn’t know you were lonely, if you’d just told me I’d be home with you,” she sings in the chorus over a lonely piano, while the verse sections have the piano chords flanked by blocks of glitch, and littered with flitched-off synths. Then, the last chorus swirls the words again, along with the strings and horns and everything into a rising crescendo of regret.

Later in the album however, her anger once smoldering is set alight, in the dramatic highlight “Fallen Alien.” Twigs sings with an increasing tension, as her agile voice morphs from confused, pouting girlfriend to towering lady of the manor, launching imprecations towards a past lover and perhaps fame itself. “I was waiting for you, on the outside, don’t tell me what you want ‘cuz I know you lie,” she sings, and, after the tension ratchets up becomes “when the lights are on, I know you, see you’re grey from all the lies you tell,” and then later on we have her sneering out loud “now hold me close, so tender, when you fall asleep I’ll kick you down.” All while pondering pianos drop like rain from an awning, tick-tocking mini-snares and skittering noises flit across the beat like summer insects, the kicks of which are like an insistent, inquisitive knocking at the door, and then there’s that sample, filtered into an incandescent flame, crackling an I FEEL THE LIGHTNING BLAST! all over the song like the arc of a Tesla coil. The song is a shocking rebuke, and it becomes apparent upon replays that the songs are sequenced to lead up to and away from it, the gravitational weight giving a shape and pace to the whole album. Because of this, the other songs on Magdalene have more tempered, subtle electronic hues and tones, as if the seductive future soul of 2013s “Water Me” from EP2, and the inventive, booming experimentation of “Glass & Patron” from 2015s M3LL1SSX, were pursed back and restrained until it was needed most, and this results in an album more accomplished, nuanced and focused than her impressive but inconsistent debut LP1 (reviewed here).

This technique of electronic restraint has shown up in the most recent albums by experimental pioneers, with the sparse, mournful tension of Radiohead’s A Moon Shaped Pool (2017), it’s cold, analog synths and digital embellishments cresting on the periphery of the song, and with Wilco’s Ode to Joy from last year, an album bereft of their lauded static and electric scrawl, mostly embossed in acoustic solitude and brittle, wintery guitar licks. Twigs and her co-producers take the same knack for the most part throughout the album, like with closer “Cellophane,” where the dramatic voice and piano are in the forefront, while effects crunch lightly in the background like static electricity in a stretched sweater, and elsewhere, as the synths of “Daybed” slowly intensify into a sparkling soundscape, as if manufacturing an awakening sunrise through a bedroom window. And it is this seamless melding of organic and electronic instruments, to express these wretched and fleeting emotions of heartbreak that makes this the album of the year.

It makes sense that an artist like FKA Twigs would be drawn to a figure like Mary Magdalene. Of the many Marys in the New Testament, she stuck out as palpably different, or rather, she depicted a differing part of womanhood than the other two. She wasn’t the chaste, life-giving mother of Jesus, or the dutiful Mary of Clopas. Instead, Magdalene was this mixture of sexuality and spirituality, one of those figures that managed to know men and women in equal measure, wrapped up with the blood as well as the flesh. Twigs also played with this enrapturing sexuality in her work, writhing around in bed begging some papi to pacify her and fuck her while she stared at the sun, then making you identify with the lamentations of video girls, and then telling you in two weeks you won’t even recognize who you were seeing before. There was something mysterious and layered to her millennial art-chick sexpot act though, layers that have begun to be revealed with this album.

We realise now, that what she was depicting all along was more like the sexual heat that lays underneath devotion, as opposed to fleeting, mayfly lust, and that she now understands the weight and half-life of love. That is, that beyond the sex and patron and fame there is a near sacred love we build between each other for a while in time, lasting as long as both hands can bear to hold it, and also that the death of a relationship still has the memory of the love created warm within it that then radiates off slow into the air. A love that then falls into our minds for safekeeping dark and unobstructed now, the way Jesus’ blood fell from his wound into Joseph of Arimathea’s grail held aloft.

“I never met a hero like me in a sci-fi,” FKA Twigs sings, an evocative line less so for the hegemonic patriarchy of the worldwide movie and comic book industry suggested by ‘the sci-fi’ here, and more for the ‘hero like me’ part, which suggests she had to make her hero origin story all up, without the scaffolding of centuries of relatable mythologies, presenting us with an avatar of millennial love, in all of its tortured luster. And you hear this type of love in her voice, no longer changed up and ran through a filter for Future Soul sophistication most times, but out in the open now, to express particular emotions, whether it’s in that swooping, falling ‘I’ in the heart-break closer “Cellophane,” or her assured realisation, later on “Home With Me” where she says “But I’d save a life if I thought it belonged to you/ Mary Magdalene would never let her loved ones down.”

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It’s never about how to conquer with these women you see. In the end of all relationships it’s how they find their way out after us temporarily embarrassed conquerors are about to leave, jacket slung over shoulder, standing by the door. You squint your eyes back at her this time, and you listen this time, while she tells you, or tells the ground in front of you, what parts of love to let go of, and what parts are worth holding on to in this age of Satan, the parts that will help you become yourself. “I wonder if you think that I could never help you fly,” the song tells you then, one of those stinging admissions that only women come up with, and you wisely stay silent, and then the piano chords part, the synths subside. And for a while there as she looks at you, as the breathy sortilege in the song keeps going, it all sounds like something worth believing in again. And then, the words she says to you start to come across like laws.

#music #music review #rnb #rnb music #r&b #soul #future soul #future pop #alt soul #electronica #fka twigs #magdalene #mary magdalene #cellophane #Long Reads #sad day #hiro murai #new music

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shidiand · 5 years

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How do you imagine Tenco's Story ending in your head?

that is a GREAT but UNEXPECTED QUESTION freshlybaked "spider" bread and i'm really happy to have the opportunity to try and answer this ageless question that has burned within all of us in the tenco's story iv waiting room community since 2013. it is an incredible coincidence (or is it? 👀) that i was just talking to Risa about tenco's this (edit: yesterday) morning so i am extra double super in the mood to talk about Tenco's Story today. so excellent of a coincidence is this that i am tempted to refer you to them in case you wanted to hear their thoughts on the matter that would probably turn out super cool, but that is neither here nor there; let us talk Tenco's Story.

i of course must mention my unadvertised and modestly detailed commentary on tenco's i-iii at https://shidiand.tumblr.com/tencos, presenting slightly interesting facts in an unwieldy and difficult-to-use format, but as it dates back to june 2017, i want to take some time to understand my feelings about the series once more.

tenco's story is a series that has a lot of meaning to me.

i took on my current name of shidiand in november of 2013. i was still in 11th grade at the time, 4th year of high school, and a very socially isolated person. i should say i was introduced to touhou in 7th grade, 2010, so i was still working through a 3 years-strong phase of trying to simultaneously both find an outlet for and bottle up an endless wellspring of awkward weeaboo-gamer nerd energy at the time.

i had my first real foray onto the internet in 2010, tried out twitter, followed some RPers and other people who had Cool Touhou Usernames. didn't really go anywhere. i had maybe 50 followers, i dont really know the count but it was definitely a) double digits and b) pretty low. didn't know what to tweet about. didn't know how to hit it off with others. i think there was basically maybe only 3 other people i ever properly interacted with. oh shit i was playing league of legends at the time. oh my god. i really did play league of .. oh my god. let's move on.

aw shit im super digressing amn't i. well.

this is just how it goes when i write essays on tumblr.com.

i'm afraid you're just along for the ride at this point so please do your best to enjoy it.

i got kind of tired of twitter at the time because i didnt know what to do with it. didnt know how to interact with people and didnt find the people i was following interesting, so i ghosted on out of there by the end of 2012. didnt deactivate it until like 2015 but at that point that was just burning away my dark history. anyways. november 2013.

--im taking a lot of time here trawling through old files on my computer, my tumblr blog, notification emails still lying around in my gmail inbox from twitter, the dropbox i didn't actually use but it had several tenco's story pictures on it but i deleted them so this was useless, ... to trace the timeline of this story and im really seeing a lot of remnants of dark history here you know? did you know i wrote a letter to a girl i had a crush on valentine's day 2014, slipped it into her locker, and anxiously hung around nearby at lunchtime to see how she reacted at lunchtime? i certainly didn't, or at least i made darn ass sure to forget about this incredible virgin incident and not remember it, ever, until i came across the records of it that i thoughtfully preserved for the me of 5 years later today. ok well now i have to read the letter to see if it was as bad as it just sounded there brb

ok so the good news is that it was actually very focused on being positive and full of admiration for the cool things she did instead of being a confession letter so i am very glad i was able to be a respectful chad 5 years ago, but the bad news is that the jokes, the actual sentences i put together. oh my god. but i mean. well. at least i got the spirit. its certainly a step up from this other person in my grade, WEEABOO ANDREW, YOU MAY RECALL THIS STORY AND HIS NAME FROM PREVIOUS STORYTIMES, THE MAN THE MYTH THE LEGEND who came to school on halloween once cosplaying kirito from sword art online and got very possessive about people asking if they could hold his black replica plastic sword, and probably worse, dropped a "will you be my girlfriend" letter into the locker of my homie and fellow trombonist samantha, who was a little bit nerdy, hung out with the anime-likers who were actually sociable and fun to be around so you can imagine why weeaboo andrew was into her, which had i) a direct quotation from SAO chapter 16.5 (origin of the famous "glopping noise" line), and ii) a condom. jesus christ. i dont want to talk about this any more. next topic.

i also put this drawing of iku nagae and her skarmory (actually an albinoss from 18 DRAGONS) on the other side of the letter because it was the coolest thing i could think of drawing at the time. and i completely agree with 2014 me because it IS super fucking cool. hell fuckin yeah

https://shidiand.tumblr.com/post/76301993387/iku-nagae-ft-that-thing-that-supposedly-is-a

alright that was a fun little trip down memory lane but lets get back on track. november 2013. i started anew as shidiand. still awkward, still learning how to express myself and looking for my place among others. i followed some touhou bloggers, hung around r/touhou a lot as well. in december i got my first tablet for christmas, a wacom bamboo splash. i still use this thing! the usb cable disconnects if you bump it so i have to find just the perfect position to sit in whenever i want to draw, but its served me well. anyways. i was just starting to play around with digital art but i remember, probably just before new years, for some reason i wanted to find out more about tenshi hinanawi (i don't remember why. tenshi wasn't even one of my favourite characters at the time) so i went googling and right there on zerochan i found this:

https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=23525572

this was during my dark souls phase so i just went BANANAS at the sight of this. this was literally the coolest image i had ever seen in my internet life. That image alone made me want to draw in hopes that I could make something as cool as that someday.

it wasn't immediately after but i soon discovered tenco's story, and it was love. kannnu was my very first artistic inspiration, and for a long time, my only one. i absolutely idolized them at the time. since then, ive found other artists to look up to, in a more healthy manner, but to this day i still look up to kannnu, still admire their work a lot.

i played around with drawing, followed the lives of people on tumblr, started reading touhou fanfiction, made a new twitter. i met a lot of new people along the way. some people i havent stuck with, some i cut ties with, and some people i still keep in contact with today. over those long 5 years of being shidiand, i found a name (i used to use shidian and then shid, but someone called me shidi once and i realized that was a lot better), how to reach out to others, how to express myself, places that i could feel included in. this is why i owe a blood debt to evelyn, who permitted me to kneel at her throne and was like "yea ok you can join my discord server u seem cool". evelyn, if you were confused by me ominously mentioning this blood debt/blood oath in a tumblr reply 1-2 years ago, this is the context. those 5 years were like a coming of age of sorts, that i never had when i was in high school.

and my love for tenco's story, that inspired me to draw that day, has been with me since almost the very beginning of my time as shidiand. from the beginning, i have always encouraged people to READ TENCO'S STORY, like the kin of those who cry PLAY MELTY or WATCH SYMPHOGEAR. i think my very first sidebar description was something akin to a prayer, written in very choral language, hoping for the day tenco's story iv was completed, ..., "meanwhile, furious shitposting". kannnu's work, finding delight in whatever they chose to draw, has been at my side, all along. my true mentor, my guiding moonlight...

so that's why i still to this day love tenco's story so much.

let's talk about tenco's story.

tenco's story is a story told through single pictures. the plot is vague, and details are sparse. dialogue is rare. we only know what has happened; we seldom know why. furthermore, there are many gaps between scenes that the reader is left to fill in for themselves; we see only snapshots that form an hazy outline of the events that occurred, and must imagine the rest. motivations and explanations fail me. but even with a barebones plot, tenco's story has themes, and if nothing else, those have to be carried through.

the main theme, of course, is journey and travel, but there are also other ideas, too. i actually think they start to change as the series goes on:

book i, where tenshi runs away from home, is about striking out on your own. it's a very fun and unpredictable journey, together with a friend.

book ii, where tenshi and iku are separated, forces tenshi to find and rely on companions of her own even more. but they do so, and they are able overcome hardships, and there is food and festival.

book iii marks a climax, reasserting tenshi's goal of finding the sword of hisou. i feel like the journey shifts from a travel (visiting) to a path forwards (making your way through). perhaps this is just something i get from knowing the locations from dark souls (Anor Londo, New Londo Ruins, the Great Hollow), but the locations start to give more of a sense of verticality, like they're emphasizing tenshi's climb to the summit. the hardships and enemies are the greatest they've been yet, and right when they near the top, tenshi and iku start to bleed. the book ends on an uncertain note.

if i had to describe the type of journey and travel that tenshi and iku undertake, there's this sense of wonder at discovering new places, wandering from vista to vista in delight, but also a sense of conquering, making it through a difficult patch. the sequence from pages 2-44 to 2-51, taken together, convey this sense of overcoming the best. it's one of my favourite parts. again, although the tone definitely starts to lean towards struggle in book iii, i think tenco's sense of wonder really is the heart of the series. there's no map of the world, no predicting where tenshi and iku will end up next. and through their travels, though they come across many enemies, they also find friends -- places of refuge, places full of life, people who will look after them for a few days, companions who will stay with them for the rest of the journey. at the end of book iii, we see a long haired tenshi with purple hair being impaled by the sword of hisou (3-33, see also this extra illustration that risa pointed out to me http://sinnnkai.blog.fc2.com/blog-entry-195.html), and regular short haired tenshi continuing on her journey (3-42). if we ignore the out-of-story images where tenshi has the sword of hisou, tenshi has actually only ever used her sunlight blade (2-24, 3-26, etc), so i think that the long haired tenshi on 3-33 is a different person altogether. (if i had to guess, she might be the purple haired woman in the top left of https://www.pixiv.net/member_illust.php?mode=medium&illust_id=35443328 as we have never seen that woman appear anywhere.) she probably has something to do with the flashbacks at the end of book ii and she might somehow be short-haired tenshi at the same time, but this is just speculation.

however, in 3-43, tenshi's hair is rather blue, so i don't know if this is the purple haired woman or not. if it is, tenshi is probably still fine and closing in on the summit, but if it isn't, then it's very worrying to see a picture of tenshi without any of her companions. it's very ominous.

meanwhile, iku, while climbing the red carpeted corridor, is stabbed, and disappears for a few pages. there's a black page, a shot of a shrine that strongly resembles the hakurei shrine, and a picture of iku standing behind someone in a tux, with the line "In the past, I was saved by the lady I was serving, you see?". and then iku wakes up in a field of flowers.

i think what this scene makes clear is a theme that has continued to appear and reappear throughout every book of "being saved, being aided by someone's kindness".

i think another theme that is implied and has to be addressed by this story of running away from home is "return". something im imagining is that the reason tenshi makes finding the sword of hisou her goal is because she wants to have something to prove herself with, to vindicate her when she comes home. but i don't think she needs to prove anything, and i ultimately think that she would be happier spending the rest of her life exploring.

so i think this should be what happens in the ending.

open on iku's journey, and give her a long sequence of travel without seeing tenshi. underline her newfound resolve. she climbs to the summit with albinoss, and finds the rest of tenshi's companions fallen. and in the last room is sword of hisou tenshi, who has lost herself, and it comes down to iku to bring her back. after a difficult battle, when both of them are on their last legs, iku is unable to stand any longer. but at this moment tenshi sees her companions struggling to get back up and reach her, and that's what brings her to her senses. and iku gets to see how many friends tenshi's been able to make on her own, and they finally and properly reunite. together, tenshi and iku carry each other out of the last room.

i don't think it's necessary to return to heaven. as a conclusion, dedicate some time to tenshi and iku travelling together. they're on their way back, revisiting old friends who helped them along the way, enjoying the journey. their last stop is the house of the elderly nawis (1-42). tenshi shows off the sword of hisou; she decided to keep it not as a trophy to show her family but as proof of the bonds of her companions. surrounded by friends, tenshi and iku decide to part ways with each other, knowing that the other will be alright. iku drifts among the clouds once more, and tenshi sets off for the horizon.

that's the plot that i'd write/just wrote. i don't really expect tenco's story iv to ever come out, though. i mentioned my first sidebar description earlier in this essay, but of course, you can see that it's been changed. 2 years ago, i read my hopeful prayer once more and was struck with a terrible melancholy, so now it reads this: "having come to terms with the fact that tenco's story iv will never be released, i can still live, knowing that the spirit of the journey will live on through kannnu's original works [...] meanwhile, furious shitposting".

on one level, tenco's story is a story, but in the process of following it, i came to think of the work itself as a journey too. you can constantly see kannnu's improvement between and even within each book. they have always drawn whatever they liked; what plot matters in the face of "I wanted to draw a beautiful sky." "I wanted to draw a fantastic battle." "I wanted to draw Dark Souls and Monster Hunter and Pokemon and Brave Fencer Musashi and Bokura no Taiyou and Touhou."

its not really kannnu's style to go back and tie up old ends. they just draw whatever makes them happy. so as i watch them continue to draw beautiful places and fantastic creatures, new characters heading out on journeys of their own or just enjoying their everyday lives, it's as if tenco's story never ended. the limits and consistency of that world ignored, and a new one springs up; in a way, the world of tenco's, which had such thin boundaries, just gets bigger.

but even so, having said all that, i still see them draw that short-haired tenshi from time to time. it makes me happy to see them remember tenco's story with such fondness. often crossing over with orion or roar or elweiss, you can see tenshi on another journey.

#tenco's story #freshlybakedspiderbread

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chanibelle · 6 years

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New Year, New Understanding?

I don’t find this piece particularly readable, and I’ll admit that I’m writing it more as a means to organize my thoughts than I am to present it to an audience. Regardless, this is a discussion of growing up with Depression and making sense of my personal situation. If you feel you might identify with this or that it may help you make sense of your situation as well, then I invite you to read through. If not, happy scrolling!

I’ve suffered from Major Depressive Disorder since I was in my single digits. For many, this has been known. I don’t shy away from talking about it, as it’s kind of hard to do anyway. Quite literally, since I can best remember, I have been depressed. The vast majority of the feelings I’ve felt, decisions I’ve made, and relationships I’ve entered into were born of my depression. Disclaimer: I don’t *blame* my depression for mistakes I’ve made. In the end, I am me, and I make independent choices with appropriate consequences. It is of particular note, however, that my identity and character has formed in and around a depressive mindset because...

I didn’t actually know I was suffering from depression until I was a) learning about the disorder in my AP Psychology course my senior year of high school, and b) officially diagnosed soon thereafter. There were, of course, fleeting moments of speculation and suspicion, and I had sometimes questioned whether or not I was feeling depressed. In retrospect, it makes crystal clear sense. I was perpetually suicidal, self-harming, addicted, acting out, short-tempered, in poor health, and the list really does go on. If I wasn’t rock-bottom low and crushed by the undertow of my own chemical malfunction, my norm was a mental neuropathy: numbness and stinging where there should have been comfortable contentment. The kicker was I had no idea that my norm was not actually normal. I’ll remind you that this was what I felt for as long as I can best remember. I didn’t know anything else, and I was especially unaware that my “norm” was, statistically speaking, entirely unknown to most everyone around me. You can imagine, I would hope, the waves of relief I felt when I could finally put a name to it all. The whirlpool of self-incrimination, self-doubt, regret, self-hatred, the quiet whisper that screamed to end it all night after night, the burden of believing I was a burden- it all had a single name, and it was treatable. Everything changed for me. It could end. It could finally fucking end.

Of course, it didn’t end, and I regret to report that it likely never will. But it did change, that much was true. Since then, I’ve learned to embrace my depression in full. I now know that it is a part of me, not the other way around. I know and firmly believe that I am loved by the people I love, and choosing to leave the world is not sparing them. Yes, I still have thoughts of dying from time to time, but it’s been years since I’ve had thoughts of suicide. I’ve learned not to hide my feelings or downplay them or bottle them by any means, but to simply discuss them, as any alternative is almost certain to be worse. I’ve even found reasons to feel thankful for my depression. For as long as I have suffered, I have also known an incredible desire to help others at any capacity, particularly where emotion is concerned. It is the primary reason why I pursue a career researching epigenetics in neuroscience. It is the reason I so readily empathize. It is the cause for my knack for poetry, song writing, drawing, and acting. It is why I appreciate and, as often as I can, befriend those who go astray. My humanity exists as presently as my pain because I have been depressed. While I am not necessarily thankful for it, it’s something I can at least appreciate.

It has been difficult (and pretty much not needed) to differentiate between my childhood depression and my adolescent depression. There’s been a notable difference entering adulthood, as noted earlier. I think I can best identify myself now as a functional depressive, but I’m realizing that even that isn’t as manageable as I often want it to be. 2017 was effectively a bit of a shit stain on my timeline. At this period in my life, I am floundering in my undergraduate studies (despite the intrinsic value for the subject), I am unemployed (despite my overall excellence and passion in the field), I am once again questioning my sexuality, which may or may not be on account of PTSD, I’m living where I really fucking don’t want to be so help me God, I am in a continuous state of “very much not healthy,” and I am thoroughly and impressively accustomed to failure overall anymore. One thing I haven’t typically been able to do, like, ever is swallow my pride. Lately, I’ve been taking it in giant swigs, and it tastes about as good as Kumchatka vodka on a Tuesday afternoon. In my adolescence, this feeling of defeat would have overcome me entirely, and by this point, I would be doing backstrokes in a pool of hopelessness. However, in this polite stage of adult functional depression, I’m waist deep in said pool and practicing pull-ups from the diving board. I can’t quite seem to pull myself out, but I’ve yet to let go. Meanwhile, I’m gaining absolutely no muscle mass from this activity, thanks to the buoyancy of the hopelessness.

I don’t want to die. I’m not going to give in. I’m still going to try. I know exactly what I want from my life, and I am aware of what it takes to acquire it. I also know that I posses the potential, capability, and intelligence to get there. But I have no motivation. I have no drive, and I sure as hell do not have a single fucking clue. If I am resolute in anything, it’s pure confusion. I knew the gravity of my depression before. I knew the weight it carried in the feelings I felt and decisions I made. But now? As an adult? Apparently, I just don’t know. Am I actually functional, or do I just think that because I don’t actively want to die? Is this better? Am I actually better?

Well, yes. I don’t want to die. That’s infinitely better. I want and care to succeed. That’s infinitely better. I picture my future. That is infinitely better. But in this new phase of my life, despite knowing the title, the disease, the treatment, the traps and pitfalls, the warning signs, I still don’t know my depression.

I’m still figuring it out, and I suppose that’s okay, but if this year will be spent doing anything (other than getting my shit together lmao), it’ll be getting to better understand the anchor in my head.

Happy New Year.

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igotopinions · 4 years

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Books I Read in 2019

* = Re-read Check out past years: 2012, 2013 (skipped), 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, and 2018. Follow me on Goodreads to get these reviews as they happen. 1) The Right To Be Cold: One Woman's Story of Protecting Her Culture, the Arctic and the Whole Planet by Sheila Watt-Cloutier 2) Nollywood: The Making of a Film Empire by Emily Witt 3) The Consuming Fire by John Scalzi 4) My Year of Rest and Relaxation by Ottessa Moshfegh Reads like a more mature Chuck Palahniuk. 5) Of Dice and Men by ME I won't be a dink and give myself a star rating or glowing review, but I gotta get that credit for my annual reading challenge! I'll also say it's a richly rewarding experience to, after all the work of writing & editing & publishing & promoting, to re-read something you wrote and still feel all the strong, positive feelings it gave as you figured out the first draft. 6) Lagos Noir, edited by Chris Abani 7) The Secret Lives of Colour by Kassia St. Clair 8) The Buddha of Suburbia by Hanif Kureishi A really fun, cleverly written coming-of-age story with just the right period touches to it. I gobbled this thing down in a couple of days, having no problem seeing why Zadie Smith spoke highly of it in her latest book of essays. 9) Moon of the Crusted Snow by Waubgeshig Rice 10) America: The Farewell Tour by Chris Hedges TL:DR This book is not toilet paper, but it sure is shit-adjacent. It gave me strong feelings, which you can read on Goodreads. 11) The Anatomical Venus: Wax, God, Death & the Ecstatic by Joanna Ebenstein Great introduction to the subject with fantastic photos & illustrations. My only frustration was the layout, which frequently breaks up the main text mid-sentence for two or even four pages of images with details captions to read or full page quotes, so it takes a bit more effort to read linearly. 12) The King of Elfland's Daughter by Lord Dunsany I found this through the ol' Appendix N reading list and it's not hard to see how this influenced D&D in many ways, but it has value well beyond that novelty. This is a wonderful fantasy tale in the vein of classic fairy tales, a welcome break from the kind of epics we mostly associate with the genre these days. By the final run up to the ending I was really immersed in what I was reading and I know I'll be looking up more of his books. 13) The Worst Is Yet to Come: A Post-Capitalist Survival Guide by Peter Fleming *14) A Canticle For Leibowitz by Walter M. Miller Jr. The first third remains perfect. The middle third is better than I remember, which is to say very good indeed, despite the feeling of inevitability running through it. The final third remains a pretty obvious punchline stretched out over too many pages, something basically predicted by the ending of the middle story. But! Ah! That first third! 15) The Gods of Pegana by Edward John Moreton Dunsany In theory this was an influence on Lovecraft's Dreamlands cycle books. 16) Era of Ignition: Coming of Age in a Time of Rage and Revolution by Amber Tamblyn 17) Looking for Transwonderland: Travels in Nigeria by Noo Saro-Wiwa 18) 1985 by Anthony Burgess 19) Infinite Detail by Tim Maughan 20) Seasonal Associate by Heike Geissler, Kevin Vennemann (Afterword), Katy Derbyshire (Translation) 21) Digital Minimalism: Choosing a Focused Life in a Noisy World by Cal Newport 22) How To Write Adventure Modules That Don't Suck Edited by Jobe Bittman 23) The Immortal of World's End by Lin Carter 24) This Is Water: Some Thoughts, Delivered on a Significant Occasion, about Living a Compassionate Life by David Foster Wallace 25) My Sister, the Serial Killer by Oyinkan Braithwaite *26) Idoru by Oliver Brackenbury 27) Conan by Robert E. Howard, L. Sprague de Camp, Lin Carter 28) Heroes in the Wind: From Kull to Conan by Robert E. Howard 29) The Postman by David Brin Yes, this is that “The Postman”, the one which was adapted into a universally reviled Kevin Costner film in the mid-to-late nineties. It is, however, significantly different and far more enjoyable. It is an extremely White Straight Guy book with some curious ideas about gender in the back end, a "Rah rah, America!" through-line, and an obsession with describing horses as "steaming". It is also a well-crafted, clear, concise, quickly-moving story that avoids several obvious turns most authors would have plowed right into, and overall serves as a great exploration of the power of lies & myths. Plus, yeah, it is kind of heartwarming to imagine the concept of snail mail & the people who deliver it serving to re-unite us in the post-apocalypse. Unlike the movie, I'd honestly recommend this. Heck, I'm thinking I'll start exploring the rest of his catalog. 30) Beastie Boys Book by Michael Diamond & Adam Horowitz If you're a fan, then you'll like this. If not? I dunno man! The whole thing feels like hearing stories from your favourite old high school buddies when they're at their most honest and interesting. Great stuff. 31) Best. Movie. Year. Ever.: How 1999 Blew Up the Big Screen by Brian Raftery 32) Return of the Lazy Dungeon Master by Michael Shea 33) Conan of Cimmeria by Robert E. Howard, L. Sprague De Camp, and Lin Carter. As tends to be the case, the pure Howard stories are best. Carter and De Camp are mostly interested in arranging Howard's work into a larger, more coherent universe...which is fine, I guess, but it has a way of making Conan feel less a legend striding in and out of fantastic situations, more a man - a strong, interesting man, sure, yet still just a man. *34) The Hunter by Richard Stark *35) Beast by Paul Kingsnorth 36) The Marrow Thieves by Cherie Dimaline 37) It Came from Something Awful: How a Toxic Troll Army Accidentally Memed Donald Trump into Office by Dale Beran 38) Planetes, Vol. 1-4 by Makoto Yukimura 39) The Bookshop on the Corner by Jenny Colgan 40) Reawakening Our Ancestors' Lines: Revitalizing Inuit Traditional Tattooing by Angela Hovak Johnston 41) Split Tooth by Tanya Tagaq 42) Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life by Anne Lamott Part life-as-a-writer therapy, part craft, this leans more toward the latter than Stephen King's ON WRITING and that's plenty fine. A nice, light read that holds value for writers at all stages of their career, I reckon. 43) Conan The Freebooter by Robert E. Howard, L. Sprague de Camp As tends to be the case with these collections, the pure Howard stories are best. That said, Lin Carter carries himself much better here than in some of the earlier volumes. There are no magical abstractions of good and evil arm-wrestling each other while Conan just stares at them... 44) The Heroes by Joe Abercrombie 45) The Case of Charles Dexter Ward by H.P. Lovecraft Pretty good stuff but, as was pointed out on the excellent Appendix N Podcast, this story would have been really something had it been edited down a bit. RACISM METER: Honestly, pretty okay, which is saying something for Lovecraft! No cats with awful names or race theory or any of that. Just a good wholesome story of madness and history. 46) Difficult Men: Behind the Scenes of a Creative Revolution: From The Sopranos and The Wire to Mad Men and Breaking Bad by Brett Martin 47) Swords and Deviltry by Fritz Leiber 48) The Enchantress of World's End by Lin Carter 49) The Barbarian of World's End by Lin Carter These are not terribly good books....but I keep reading them for the goofy ideas and setting. Averaging 180 pages, they're not a big investment so hey why not? 50) The Giant of World’s End by Lin Carter The first is the best. I think because it was written as a complete story, not the literary equivalent of another episode of a Saturday morning cartoon, as the other World's End books read. As with the rest of the series it is enjoyed more on the merits of the wacky ideas than the quality of prose, including a part near the end who may well have been a source of inspiration for the Emperor of Mankind in the Warhammer 40K universe. Its main drawback is the classic scifi/fantasy failing of providing multiple asides to historical background meant to add depth to the world but which is ultimately meaningless to the reader as it has little if anything to do with the story - nevermind the characters! Heck, it's only 140 pages. It's fun. The ending actually got to me a little. It's a good place to pluck out ideas for tabletop roleplaying, if you're into that. Yup! 51) Wonder Tales: The Book of Wonder and Tales of Wonder by Lord Dunsany 52) Outcast of Redwall by Brian Jacques It's a fun little story, clearly intended for younger audiences, and I've no regrets having bought it second hand. BUT You could have clipped off nearly a hundred pages if the author didn't feel compelled to give you a highly detailed account of every single meal - including many feasts - had by characters big and small. Holy mother of God do you come out of this knowing a lot about the diets of the various woodland creatures, with their meadowberry pies and etc. 53) Björk's Homogenic by Emily MacKay 54) DCC RPG Annual Vol 1 by Steve Bean, Julian Bernick, Daniel Bishop, Jobe Bittman, Tim Callahan, Colin Chapman, Michael Curtis, Edgar Johnson, Brendan LaSalle, Stephen Newton, Terry Olson, and Harley Stroh 55) Conan the Avenger by Robert Howrd & L Sprague De Camp This is one of the better collections. Only the third story is a reconstruction from one of Howard's outlines, the rest are undiluted and glorious.That said, the back two stories are a bit cringey re: race, *especially* the reconstruction I mentioned. I'd say I don't know who looks at a Howard story and thinks "Ah, this needs more complex racial hierarchy nonsense!" but I do and that man's name is L. Sprague De Camp, apparently!The important thing is now I'm all caught up for the next episode of The Appendix N podcast, which I heartily recommend. 56) Medallion Status: True Stories from Secret Rooms by John Hodgman 57) Grand Union: Stories by Zadie Smith 58) The Singing Citadel by Michael Moorcock 59) White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism by Robin DiAngelo 60) The Psychopath Test by Jon Ronson *61) Virtual Light by William Gibson 62) The Dragon Masters by Jack Vance *63) Roadside Picnic by Arkady Strugatsky, Boris Strugatsky, Ursula K. Le Guin (Foreword), Olena Bormashenko (Translator) *64) Bill, the Galactic Hero by Harry Harrison A fun little dunk on Heinlein and his ilk. Very slapstick. 65) Gonzo by Hunter S. Thompson *66) McGlue by Ottessa Moshfegh

STATS Non-Fiction: 23 Fiction: 42 Poetry Collections:0 Comic Trades: 0 Wrote Myself: 1

#birty

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sunbrights · 7 years

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dvd commentary: viewfinder

(For anon, because I also have a special place in my heart for "viewfinder", and I wanted to talk about it more.

This isn't going to go on AO3, for a few reasons that I'll spare you guys from getting into, but I know that Tumblr isn't very kind to long text posts. If this is a pain to read let me know and I'll try to find another alternative!

I hope you guys enjoy!)

I originally wanted to write "viewfinder" as the first of a series of quickfics exploring friendships that have a lot of potential, in my opinion, but don't get a lot of screentime for whatever reason. I really enjoy both Peko and Mahiru as characters, though, and the longer I went the more I wanted to do a deeper dive, which is how it came to be what is now.

(I still want to do something similar to what I was originally planning, though I don't think they'll be quickfics anymore; probably longer oneshots like this one. I do have another fic planned in the same vein that's intended to be a sort of companion to "viewfinder," though that might be a while out.)

Essentially, I was interested first by the fact that Peko mentions Mahiru a few times in her FTEs, which leaves open the possibility for them to be friends even if it's never looked at explicitly in the main game. There are a lot of peppered references to both Peko's and Mahiru's FTEs in here as a result of that (which may or may not have already been obvious). Second, I was interested in the impact on Peko of having to kill her, outside of the consequences for herself and Fuyuhiko in the context of the killing game, especially if the two of them had been friends beforehand. Striking a balance between those two concepts, tonally, was really tough, but in the end I decided I didn't want to leave either one of them out.

Nitty gritty commentary under the cut!

** **

Koizumi has taken at least four photographs of her since they arrived on the island. One was a group photo, taken the first day; the other three were taken covertly, when she thought Peko wasn’t aware. (Peko cannot afford not to be aware.)

I really agonized over how many photos Mahiru would reasonably have taken at this point. I think this number (and the one later, when Mahiru shows Peko all of them) changed at least five or six times. Why?? I have no idea. Weird hang ups in editing hell.

She does the same with the others, with similar frequency; most of them rarely notice, if ever. Peko allows it because she sees no reason not to, but she does consider the possibility of Koizumi having goals beyond a few candid photographs.

(She brings this up to the young master, and he rolls his eyes.

“Koizumi’s a fucking goody-goody,” he says, feet kicked up on the edge of his desk. “She’s not worth worrying about. If it bugs you, tell her to knock it off. Otherwise, I don’t give a shit what she does.”)

The next time Koizumi takes a photo of her, Peko is out splitting coconuts on the beach. It starts out as just her, Mioda, and a handful of others, but once they start shouting about the quality of the coconut juice, it isn’t long before the rest of the class begins to file in.

This section was tough to get right, and a lot of it ended up getting cut; I almost ended up cutting the whole section (I did a couple times, I think), but I'm glad I was eventually able to get it where I wanted it. The coconut special event in particular felt like a good starting place to me because it's the earliest point that we see Peko bonding and socializing with the others, even if she didn't really intend to.

At one point Souda, Hinata, and Mioda hold six coconuts out in a line; Peko slices through all of them in a single swing, and hears the familiar snap of Koizumi’s shutter behind her.

The others all whoop as the tops of the coconuts hit the sand. Koizumi rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling even as she steps back. When they start handing out the remaining shells, Peko brings one over to her.

“I was wondering,” she says, after Koizumi has taken the first sip of her juice, “would it be all right for me to see that photo?”

“The one I just took of you? Sure, if you want.” Koizumi pulls on the strap of her camera to swing it back up towards her. It looks unwieldy to hold in one hand, but she does it without much effort at all. “Don’t worry, you look really cool in it.”

The digital display of the camera is grainy and cluttered with functional symbols, but the most important parts of the image are clear. Peko discovers that she isn’t the subject of the photo, as she’d assumed— instead, she is the dynamic foreground to the actual subjects: Souda, Hinata, and Mioda, their hands held out and their faces lit up in varying degrees of awe, fear, and delight. The line of Peko’s shoulders and the draw of her blade act as a frame for the smiles of her classmates.

(Peko can also tell that her form is off: she’s holding her right shoulder too high, and it caused the cut in the final coconut to be uneven. It’s hardly Koizumi’s fault, but having such laziness immortalized will bother her for days.)

“What do you think?”

“It’s... surprising.”

“‘Surprising’?” Koizumi draws the word out. It’s the wrong one, going by the way her brows pinch together. She twists the camera back towards herself to squint at the display. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Peko struggles to elaborate. It’s difficult to find the words to describe something when she isn’t certain of what it is in the first place. “It could have simply captured the trick they asked me to perform,” she decides on, “but instead it captures the feelings of everyone involved.” She hesitates, then clarifies: “I like it.”

Peko's much better than Hajime at giving the kind of feedback Mahiru likes to hear. She's a thoughtful character in general, but I also think she'd be familiar with what helpful feedback sounds like, sort of a counterpoint to her own criticism of herself above.

Koizumi looks up at her, eyebrows lifting. “Yeah.�� She smiles, and it’s easy and friendly. “Yeah, that’s it exactly, actually. Thank you.”

Mahiru's smiles get mentioned a lot in this story, which is intentional; Peko's hyperawareness of them is meant to play into her own self-consciousness over struggling with smiling herself.

“You’re welcome,” Peko says, even if she doesn’t understand what she has to be thanked for. Koizumi seems pleased regardless, and she leans over to show Peko the other photos she’d taken so far.

There’s no harm in letting her keep taking them, she decides.

They have lunch together, sometimes. Both she and Koizumi tend to eat earlier than the others, so the hotel restaurant is often empty; on the days when neither of them are away doing other things, they sit out on the balcony and Koizumi shows her the photos she’d taken that morning.

“You know, I actually had something I wanted to talk to you about,” Koizumi says one day, dimming a photo of Togami and his spread of breakfast from her camera’s display. She pulls a small, squat album out of her camera bag and lays it out on the table between them. “Here. These are all the pictures I’ve taken of you so far.”

By Peko’s tally, Koizumi has taken six photos of her: the four she’d already been aware of, the one of her slicing the coconuts, and an additional group photo since.

In this album, there are eight.

I feel like a talent like Mahiru's has to be multifaceted; she's creatively and technically talented, obviously, but she also has to be adept enough to physically take photographs in a way that captures moments without imparting an observer effect.

That, and I think it creates a point of commonality between Peko's talent and Mahiru's (Peko being constantly aware of herself and her surroundings vs Mahiru separating herself from her surroundings in order to document them) that helps make them peers, in a backwards sort of way.

“I feel like I must be getting something wrong,” Koizumi says. She leans her chin on one hand, and the puff of her sigh scatters her bangs. “No matter what I do, I can’t seem to get the right shot of you.”

Peko touches the edge of a photo of herself leaning on the hotel restaurant’s railing. She tries to remember when it possibly could have been taken. “I don’t understand.”

“Well… Okay, look at this one.” Koizumi taps her nail against one of the group shots on the page: all eight girls standing together, smudged with chocolate and flour. “You had fun that day, right? At least, I thought you did.”

“Yes,” Peko answers. She studies the photo, trying to understand the flaw. The form is excellent and the colors are bright; it’s everything one would expect from Koizumi’s talent. “I… enjoy baking, sometimes. It was a welcome distraction.”

I like the idea of Peko enjoying cooking, especially baking, in spite of her not liking sweets. (The logic being that it's something fun she can do, and the results can be shared with people she cares about to make them happy, too.) Y'all probably can probably see that cropping up in a few stories of mine.

“But you’re the only one not smiling in the picture.” Koizumi flips the pages of her album back and forth. “See? You’re not smiling in any of them. This one kind of comes close,” she touches an image of Peko sitting together with Tanaka and Mioda while the Four Dark Devas of Destruction explore a sand castle, “but I’m not sure it counts. You look happy, but you’re not really smiling.”

This is the first reference to a FTE, specifically Peko's third one:

PEKO: Mahiru told me that... I'm the only one who doesn't smile for her pictures.

Oh. It’s about that. Peko closes her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “It wasn’t my intention to ruin your photos.” If Koizumi’s goal is to capture moments of positivity in their circumstances, it makes sense that Peko wouldn’t fit into that vision. “If you’d rather I avoid being in them from now on, I understand.”

“What?” Peko feels Koizumi’s hand clasp around her wrist. When she opens her eyes, Koizumi has her other hand splayed out over the open page of the album. “No, no. That’s not what I’m saying at all, Peko-chan. I just thought... maybe there are other times when you’re having more fun, you know? Maybe I should take pictures of you then instead.”

I think ultimately Mahiru's photos celebrate mundane joy in her friends' lives; I don't think she'd want them to be a source of anxiety for anyone, especially not a friend.

Even through Koizumi’s fingers, Peko can see how the photos of her don’t fit in well with the ones on the opposite page. There is a clear interruption in the theme of the collection. Looking again, she doesn’t know how she didn’t notice it the first time.

“It isn’t that,” she says. “Smiling can be… a challenge, for me. It may be more efficient for you to focus on the others.”

“Oh.” Koizumi’s forehead creases in what Peko assumes is a combination of sympathy and confusion. “Well, that’s okay. It’s not really about the smiles themselves, anyway. It’s more… whether or not you’re happy in the moment.” She smiles then, one that’s small and apologetic, and for a moment Peko can’t fathom it ever being that easy. “So don’t worry about it. Okay?”

Peko says, “I’ll try,” and means it.

She still thinks about it for the rest of the afternoon.

Koizumi takes fewer photos in the days after Hanamura’s execution. It’s understandable; there aren’t many causes for any of them to be smiling in that aftermath. She spends most of her mornings and afternoons out away from the others, but when Peko asks to see the photos, she declines. (“I’ve never been proud of my landscapes,” she admits. “It always feels like there’s something missing.”)

Little crossover tidbit: Natsumi preferring to take pictures of nature in "by the claw of dragon" is a reference to my headcanon here that Mahiru doesn't enjoy it much.

The next time she arrives at the hotel restaurant early enough for lunch, she’s the brightest Peko has seen her in days.

“Peko-chan! Look, I have a surprise for you.”

She slides onto the opposite bench and sets her lunch aside, an afterthought. “I was right, I think.” She unzips one of the outside pockets of her camera bag to produce a photo, newly printed. “I just needed to get the right shot of you.”

Having said the above re: Mahiru not wanting her photos to be a source of anxiety for people, I do think that she would keep trying, and that she probably would have been one of the best people (next to Hajime) to help Peko get past her mental blocks.

Peko doesn’t understand. She’d only been practicing with Hinata for a couple days, and his comedic timing leaves much to be desired. “Is that…?”

“It sure is.” Koizumi’s smile is proud and eager. “Here, see for yourself.”

She slides the photo across the table, and Peko draws it toward herself with the tip of her finger, careful not to smudge.

It’s a picture of her from earlier that morning. Her, and the young master.

“What do you know, right? I was so worried he was going to ruin it.” Koizumi sets her chin in both hands, and Peko can see the way her smile flattens out sardonically. “But it turns out even Kuzuryuu can take a nice picture every now and then.”

It is a nice picture. The angle is high, and neither she nor the young master have noticed the camera; Koizumi must have taken it from the restaurant stairs. She vaguely remembers the moment: she’d passed him on her way out of the hotel, and had only paused to say good morning. She remembers him, half turned towards her with his hands in his pockets, his shoulders and his smile relaxed. In Koizumi’s photo, she smiles back.

His singular order from the very first day had been to maintain the illusion that they were only classmates. They look it, in this picture. He’d be satisfied with it, she thinks.

Not sure how obvious this is, but the picture described here is intended to be the one Fuyuhiko mentions during chapter 5, if you talk to him in the hotel restaurant before going to the ruins with Sonia.

FUYUHIKO: It's the first time... I've seen a photo of Peko and me where we look like equals... FUYUHIKO: Tch, Mahiru... When the hell did she even take this photo?

“Sorry,” Koizumi says, after a moment. Her voice is gentler, and when Peko looks up her brows have drawn together, concerned. Oh. She’d misinterpreted Peko’s silence as offense. “I didn’t mean to— just be careful, Peko-chan, okay? I know you’re trying to help him and all, but that guy is bad news. You shouldn’t get involved with him.”

I figure that if anyone would have picked up on the fact that Peko is the one constantly "bumping into" Fuyuhiko and ferrying information back and forth to him, it would be Mahiru.

“He is… abrasive,” Peko allows. (She has rehearsed this answer in her head many times.) Koizumi’s brows disappear behind her bangs. “We shouldn’t let our guard down. But I think with time he might be open to cooperation.”

“Peko-chan.” Koizumi’s voice is still gentle, but has dropped low enough to not quite be called a whisper; it borderlines on conspiratorial. She chooses every word with careful deliberation. “This is the only picture I’ve been able to take of you smiling, even a little bit. Ever. Okay?”

Peko wills herself not to react, even as she feels her face and fingertips go cold. If she has in any way compromised—

“I’m not going to pretend I get it. Because I swear to every god there is, I don’t.” Her smile turns lopsided and embarrassed, and all at once Peko understands the sort of assumption she’s made. Her cold cheeks suddenly flush warm. “Seriously. That guy? Really?”

She has not rehearsed an answer for this.

Something in her expression must balk, because Koizumi holds both hands up, defensive. “No, it’s okay. I’m not going to ask, just—” She bites her lip, and Peko sees the way she rehearses her words in her head. “A guy like that, the kind of world he comes from? He’s not ever going to change. He’s too wrapped up in himself and his image to bother. Maybe he’s not dangerous yet, but he’s definitely not worth your time. Or anybody else’s, for that matter.”

Combine the above with how aggressively Mahiru and Fuyuhiko butt heads right out of the gate, and I ended up with this conversation. Mahiru wants Peko to be happy, but she also doesn't want her getting caught up with someone she sees as unreliable, self-absorbed, and dangerous. The friction that comes from that in Peko and Mahiru's friendship is inevitable, in my opinion, especially since Mahiru doesn't have all the context.

“We are in a dire situation,” Peko hears herself say. “Our only hope of success is through cooperation.”

Koizumi’s expression twists. “No, no. I know. You’re right.” She turns the photo on the table back toward her, and looks at that instead of at Peko. “But you have to admit, he’s not exactly falling over himself to cooperate with us, either.”

The young master wouldn’t disagree. Peko only shakes her head.

“I’m just saying, as a friend? You don’t need to bend over backwards to help someone who obviously doesn’t want it.” Koizumi picks the photo up by the corner, and is careful not to bend it when she puts it back in her bag. She zips the pocket closed with more force than she needs to. “Let him deal with his own problems.”

And a little dramatic irony, for flavor.

She is wrong, in more ways than she’ll ever understand.

That morning, the young master knocks on her door first.

Not pictured: me grappling with the timeline of chapter 2 to make any of this work, after I realized just how short it is between Fuyuhiko playing Twilight Syndrome and Mahiru's death. Say what you want about his yakuza talents, my boy can crank out a revenge plot like it's a frickin' office memo.

The photos must have been taken in the heat of the moment, but their composition is still stark and harshly beautiful. The framing of Natsumi-sama’s blood-spattered corpse makes excellent use of the rule of thirds.

Peko says, “Koizumi,” before the young master has had a chance to say anything at all.

When he throws the open envelope across the length of her cottage, the rest of the photos spill and scatter across her floor like fallen leaves.

Peko offers to be the one to deliver the message, but the young master insists he do it himself. She watches the mailbox instead, to ensure his message is heard and understood.

By noon, the mailbox is empty.

Koizumi doesn’t respond immediately. It’s understandable; if the young master doesn’t remember the incident, it’s unlikely she does, either. Peko watches for her anyway, and late in the afternoon, Koizumi sits on the deck of her cottage with the largest of her photo albums in her lap.

Peko knows it to be the one with the final prints of her photos, after she’s had time to crop and color balance them. Her face is lined with concentration and stress, less like reminiscing and more like personal critique, but Peko has made enough threats in her lifetime to see the fear around every edge, in the shakiness of Koizumi’s muscles and the tightness of her mouth.

If you've read some of my other stuff, you might have seen that I like to write in very, very close third person. That makes communicating the arcs of characters who aren't the POV character (through the filter of the POV character) a fun challenge for me, and this is a good example of me trying to do that with Mahiru. I wanted to highlight the point after Mahiru has seen the pictures but before she's played Twilight Syndrome, when she must have recognized the pictures as hers but been shocked and afraid by the contents. Peko interprets it a little differently.

The message has both been heard and understood.

That confirmed, there is no reason for Peko to interact with her any further, now that she’s been identified as an enemy of the Kuzuryuu Clan. Clearly, Peko has made a grave error in underestimating her as a potential threat; any further mistakes would only exacerbate the damage.

However, since arriving on the island the young master has had only one, singular request.

This is intended to be the first conflict between Peko's duty as a "tool" and the new friendships she's been making -- she uses her duty as an excuse to keep hanging out with Mahiru, right after she points out to herself that she shouldn't.

Peko holds out her hand to get Koizumi’s attention.

“I wasn’t back in time for lunch today,” she explains. “Could I look at your photos with you now instead?”

Koizumi still smiles, even if it’s thin. “Yeah. Here, come sit with me.”

Ordinarily, Koizumi is happy enough to talk through her photographs while Peko observes, the whens and whats more than the hows and whys. (“My work needs to speak for itself,” Koizumi had said, the one time Peko had asked, “If I have to explain it, then I didn’t do my job right.”) Today they sit in silence while she pages through the album, one by one.

Many of these final prints are ones that Peko has yet to see. Owari and Nidai, bloodied and grinning, grasping each other’s forearms. Saionji with two packets of gummy bears flared out in front of her face like twin fans. Souda with a screwdriver in one hand and Nanami’s Gamegirl in the other, and Nanami sitting beside him, reaching for it with both hands. Hanamura in the hotel kitchen, flipping flapjacks in a pan while Mioda cheers in the background.

You might have noticed by now that I had a lot of fun coming up with different scenarios for Mahiru's photos in this fic. I was always a little sad we didn't get to see more of them!

(There is exactly one picture of Koizumi herself, where she isn’t in a group. The photo isn’t candid, but she doesn’t look prepared, and the framing is sloppy. When Koizumi reaches it in the album, she’s quick to turn the page.)

This is intended to be the picture Hajime takes of her in her final FTE:

MAHIRU: So... I was thinking about taking at least one shot of myself while I'm on this island. MAHIRU: The me... who's here like this...

“I know that it’s not the most groundbreaking subject matter ever,” Koizumi says eventually, “but that’s fine. People don’t need their lives to be groundbreaking, or dramatic, or- or tragic for there to be beauty in them. You know?”

She turns the page, and her fingers land on a photograph of Hinata caught mid-sentence, his mouth open too wide and his eyes halfway through blinking. It makes her smile, a real one that isn’t pained or forced. For that moment, the lines of stress and fear on her face smooth out into nothing.

And again, this is intended to be the photo Mahiru takes of Hajime in her first FTE:

MAHIRU: Well, I guess this is good enough. Yep, that sure is a dumb-looking face.

“Yes,” Peko answers. “I think so.”

Koizumi’s allotted time runs out. The young master is not inclined to give her more.

More evidence of me playing fast and loose with said unreal ch 2 timeline.

This whole section actually wasn't in the original draft of this story, and I waffled a lot on whether or not I should include it; I wanted Fuyuhiko's influence to be felt, but I didn't actually want to include him in the story itself too much. In the end I decided I needed it to bridge the arc I wanted for Peko in the story, which I'll get into in a minute.

“I’ll go with you,” Peko tells him, when they’re alone.

“No.” He’s bent over his desk, which is neat and nearly empty now that Koizumi has the photographs. All that’s left are the letters he’s just written, folded and stacked and ready to set a plan in motion. He won’t look at her. “No. Your plans aren’t changing, okay? Go- go do your thing with the girls. I’ll be done before then anyway.”

That is not an option. She can’t agree, so she doesn’t.

“I’m going to talk to her,” he goes on. His voice trembles under the weight of all his anger and anxiety. “And if that bitch has something to answer for, she’ll fucking answer for it. That’s the only thing I can do, right? That’s what Natsumi deserves.”

Peko hears it, the way his resolve doesn’t shore up the way he wants it to. There are fractures in his certainty of what he’s been taught, and every day they get a little wider; his heart is too big and beats too strongly for them not to. He struggles with it, but there is strength in struggle, not shame.

One of the remaining blank sheets of paper crumples under his left hand. He hears the fractures too, but they sound different to him than they do to her.

There is so much weighing him down.

She wants to take it away from him, or at least help him shoulder the burden. But Koizumi’s philosophies, Hinata’s advice and encouragement— all of it fails her in the moment, when it matters the most. She remembers when they were small and cold and lost in the mountains, how his face had pinched with fear and tears, how she’d failed him then, too.

Like I mentioned earlier, I was interested in Peko and Mahiru's FTEs, especially in the larger context of the main plot. If you WERE to finish Peko's FTEs before the, uh, cutoff point, for example, her later ones would necessarily need to fall around/during all the behind-the-scenes fuckery happening in chapter 2. So, with that in mind, here's this from her fourth FTE:

PEKO: Mahiru showed me her photos the other day. They were filled with images of smiling faces. PEKO: I don't know how else to say this, but... they were very nice photos. I learned that smiles give people power. [ ... ] PEKO: If I had been able to smile and tell him that everything was going to be okay, even if it was a lie... PEKO: I might've been able to take away his fear.

The other piece of this is the fact that Peko wants to protect Fuyuhiko, but she doesn't do it by stopping him from killing Mahiru, which would protect everyone. In this story, I wanted to open the door to the possibility that Peko may have wanted to try and convince him away from it, through her interactions with Mahiru and Hajime and the others, but struggled with it because of the nature of her "role." In my mind, this is the point where that door shuts again, and she falls back on what she knows.

She says, “Young master—” but he’s already standing.

“Don’t call me that. Just- go, all right? I don’t have a lot of time.” He tucks the letters into the inside pocket of his jacket. “We’ll talk when it’s done.”

"I don't have a lot of time" was an inside joke with myself about how dumb the timeline of ch 2 is. That shit really got to me, y'all.

Koizumi is pale that morning. It makes her concealer too dark against her skin, and when she lowers her head shadows still steal into the bags under her eyes. Her hands shake when she waves at Peko from across the pool.

“Morning, Peko-chan.” Koizumi breathes in deeply, for no reason Peko can see except to steady her voice. “You’re still going to the beach with everyone today, right?”

Peko nods.

“That’s good.” Koizumi nods, too. She keeps nodding, and looks down at her hands. “I’m glad. It sounds like it’ll be a lot of fun.”

Mahiru is in a pretty dark place at this point, but her priority (like it is with Mikan and Ibuki) is still that her friends are happy and have fun. There's always tomorrow, right?

“You won’t be coming with us?”

Peko knows the answer. She asks the question anyway, because she must. Because as much as she feels for Koizumi’s position, the young master’s safety comes first, and his will comes second. There is no choice to be made.

Again: she wants to protect him, but going against his wishes to do that isn't an option. The rest of this is intended to be Peko turning to fully embrace the "tool" mentality she thinks she's supposed to have after slipping from it.

“No. I’m sorry, I wish I could.” She is hugging her arms close to herself. Her fingers tighten around her elbows until the skin under her nails turns white. “I just... I have something I need to take care of. But you should go have fun, okay?”

“You’ll be missed,” Peko tells her. It isn’t a lie, except by omission, but she still feels like something has been wedged deep beneath her sternum. “We’ll take photos. For your record.”

Peko's not talking about the beach trip. In case anybody wasn't sure.

“I’d like that. Thanks.” Even now, even with all this, Koizumi is still able to smile. For all her practicing, Peko is sure she’s learned nothing at all. “Have you seen Ibuki-chan anywhere?”

In the end, Koizumi never sees her approach. It’s a stroke of luck Peko doesn’t deserve, but the outcome would not have changed regardless. She will protect who she must protect. Kill who she must kill. If she can do nothing else, she can do that.

The young master reaches for his weapon, and she is there.

There was originally a transitive verb in the second clause of this sentence (I forget exactly how I phrased it) that didn't get changed to what it is now ("she is there") until the final edit. Ultimately I changed it because I wanted to emphasize Peko's attempt to take agency away from herself, especially in the context of the narrative she pushes in the trial later.

#this was actually quicker to do than i expected #so i think i'll also do one for shelf sea #since that got requested too #it feels a little like drawing back the curtain to show you guys the patchwork mess underneath tho #nerve wracking!!#i hope this is sort of what you were looking for anon!#dvd commentaries #meta thoughts #not a fic

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connorrenwick · 5 years

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Where I Work: Alex Daly

New York City-based Alex Daly has been a driving force behind some of the most successful crowdfunding campaigns over the years, including three books from Standards Manual (here, here, and here), Today clock, TLC’s new album, Neil Young’s audio player, and Joan Didion’s documentary, earning herself the much-deserved nickname, Crowdsourceress, and a spot on Forbes 30 Under 30 class of 2016. She is the founder of Vann Alexandra and DalyPR, which eventually morphed into Daly, a company that was spun from crowdfunding clients looking for guidance post-campaign. Now, Daly brings the knowledge learned from running these massive campaigns and offers PR, events, and crowdfunding consultation services. This month’s Where I Work goes behind the scenes to see the colorful offices where Alex Daly does her best work.

What is your typical work style?

Our company, Daly, just relaunched this year as a modern marketing and PR company that offers publicity, crowdfunding, and events services. Before that, I had founded a company that took a soup-to-nuts approach to launching and managing crowdfunding campaigns for designers worldwide. We were very successful, but it was high stakes, 24/7 work and team members were dropping like flies from burn out. Beyond that, our crowdfunding clients were asking for PR after their campaigns ended. Both factors ultimately forced me to rethink our goals, and I realized it was time to pivot.

When we managed crowdfunding campaigns full-time, it was about keeping up with the daily crises; now, our PR and marketing work is about planning ahead and ideating ongoing stories in a diverse, community-driven, untraditional way. This means that the work / life dynamic is inherently more balanced. It’s important to me that my team comes in and works hard, but can also turn off at the end of the day and live their lives. I’ve literally written this into our company handbook, to make sure this is an ingrained and observed part of our company culture.

Overall, our relaunch has allowed us to begin working with clients in a longer term capacity. It’s been a really exciting shift so far—and we are partnering some of the best creators in the world, like Pentagram, Freitag, Standards Manual, and Doberman. It’s a massive privilege to grow and evolve with them.

Personally, I feel like I am always working, and I like that! I get up early and send emails from home; after work, I have drinks or dinners with writers and potential collaborators. On weekends, I am constantly talking to my boyfriend (and frequent collaborator) about creative ideas or ways to make the company better. I meet with people I admire and try to learn from them (with the goal of working with them, too!). I don’t care for vacations, but enjoy traveling frequently to introduce myself to even more people and projects. Working provides me with motivation and direction. It makes me feel good.

What’s your studio/work environment like?

We worked with my brilliant boyfriend Hamish Smyth’s company, Order, to design our new office. While Order typically does branding jobs, they are beginning to offer interior design services.

Hamish and his excellent designer Nicholas Stover planned out the space to work as a beautiful office and showroom, picking out and arranging every single piece of furniture and all the decor––from the signage on the door to how the posters are positioned against the wall and our lamps are angled on our desks. We are such lucky ducks.

How is your space organized/arranged?

The layout of the space lends itself to exhibiting our client’s creations. Right when you walk in there is a cozy area in front of a towering Vitsoe 606 shelf that is efficiently filled with all types of special objects from our clients: Standards Manual books, a Today clock, Anicorn watches, Keap candles, Freitag bags, AIGA Eye on Design magazines, Greenery NYC plants, AstroReality planets, and Duane King’s Pioneer Plaque replicas.

Behind that is a Saarinen Tulip table for client and team meetings, and on the opposite side is our work area, where we spend most of our days. Hamish painted the back wall to match our branding’s dark gray color, and leaned our favorite posters against that wall.

The space has lots of natural light, and we have filled it with color, which represents Daly. We are an upbeat, sunny bunch, and collaborate with bold, exciting companies.

How long have you been in this space? Where did you work before that?

Only since January! Before that we were in Gowanus, Tribeca, and Greenpoint. We have moved around a lot, but are ready to park for awhile.

If you could change something about your workspace, what would it be?

I love the open office layout. It feels collaborative, and I get lonely quickly otherwise. While we have a cool phone booth tucked next to the kitchen for privacy, it’s still not possible to have private meetings, which is the only thing I would probably change. I wish I had some magic powers to conjure up a meeting room when necessary (*witch emoji*).

Is there an office pet?

No, but we love sharing doggy pics (especially Mr. Bubz!) on Slack constantly.

Do you require music in the background? If so, who are some favorites?

Music is a necessity for me, and we have an awesome teenage engineering OD-11 speaker that does the trick. I am obsessed with NYC rock from the early aughts, so there is a lot of Interpol and TV on the Radio, mixed with stuff like Fleetwood Mac, Neil Young, and David Bowie. We are listening to The Strokes right now. Go figure.

How do you record ideas?

Our client and friend Aron Fay is both a wonderful designer and composition notebook obsessive. We kickstarted his elevated version of a composition notebook, comp, and that’s where you can find all my chicken scratch notes.

Do you have an inspiration board? What’s on it right now?

Our inspiration comes from sitting together at the conference table talking through ideas, or discussing things on Slack. We don’t need a bunch of sticky notes all over the place to make things happen––just sayin’.

What is your creative process and/or creative workflow like? Does it change every project or do you keep it the same?

Last year, I brought on a stellar business consultant, Holly Howard, who was instrumental in helping us restructure and relaunch the business. In addition to putting company culture systems into place, we also created an employee handbook and operations manual. The manual documents everything from what we do from receiving new business inquiries to kicking off a new engagement, where we build a master database that houses all our contacts, agendas, call notes, and more. We have been able to take on many more projects because of this level of organization. There is no other way.

What kind of art/design/objects might you have scattered about the space?

Our Vitsoe 606 shelving houses a lot of our clients’ projects. Next to it, against the wall, we have also hung up a bunch of Freitag bags. We like to showcase work from pals of Daly, too, like our friend Aelfie’s rug and pillows.

Are there tools and/or machinery in your space?

Just a bunch of Macs.

What tool(s) do you most enjoy using in the design process?

Luckily, Order does our design work. They use all the typical design tools—pen and paper, Adobe Suite—and newer tools optimized for digital that are emerging, like Figma.

Let’s talk about how you’re wired. Tell us about your tech arsenal/devices.

I really am not tech savvy. I do love my iPhone 7, and use it for music, podcasts, emails, reading. I love the OD-11 speakers—we have some at home too!

What design software do you use, if any, and for what?

Some of us use Adobe InDesign for proposals and presentations. Other than that most of our work is written. Does Apple Mail count!?

Is there a favorite project/piece you’ve worked on?

There are too many to pick a favorite, but I am proud of publishing The Crowdsourceress, which was a massive undertaking to accomplish on a tight timeline while also running a company.

Do you feel like you’ve “made it”? What has made you feel like you’ve become successful? At what moment/circumstances? Or what will it take to get there?

I don’t know if I will ever feel like I have “made it”––and that’s what compels me to get up and keep working every single day. I do know that I wouldn’t be here without key people in my life: Hamish, my parents, my business consultant Holly, my team, my clients, and my therapist. It really does take a village.

Tell us about a current project you’re working on. What was the inspiration behind it?

Our clients energize us every day.

We are currently working with a women-operated vanilla company, Heilala, that employs and empowers hundreds of women workers to cultivate the world’s most awarded vanilla, grown on the Vava’u islands of the Kingdom of Tonga. Amazing, right?

We also just began working with Pentagram in New York, which is an absolute dream.

What’s on your desk right now?

Some of our beautiful Daly pens. Otherwise, it’s nice and clean. Having a clean and organized office is incredibly important to me; so at the end of the day, all desks and surfaces are cleared. It makes for a clear head!

Do you have anything in your home that you’ve designed/created?

I am not a “creative,” even though I always wished I was. I compromised this desire by working to bring creators’ ideas to life, and promoting the shit out of them. (I do enjoy writing though! Can you tell?)

It makes sense that I live with a highly creative individual, and I am inspired by how he can sit down and actually make something. When we moved into our new home we had a bunch of empty walls, so he began painting. I am so jealous!

Photos by Julia Hembree.

via http://design-milk.com/

from WordPress https://connorrenwickblog.wordpress.com/2019/06/03/where-i-work-alex-daly/

#Uncategorized

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sparkles-m-fantastic · 7 years

Text

Let’s Get Personal

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most? (In not particular order) *The Red--Chevelle *Elastic Heart--Sia *Love on the Brain--Rihanna *I Feel a Sin Coming On--Pistol Annies *40 Day Dream--Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeroes *any songs by 21 pilots of The Foo Fighters

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be? *Yeeeaaahhh, I don't like people, soooooooo.....I'm good.

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17. *There are no books near me and I'm not getting up.

4: What do you think about most? *Work.

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say? *It's a pic from #Kid_1 about her new ab workout

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on? *I have small children who still sneak in my bed at night, sooooo--clothes

7: What’s your strangest talent? *I can read really fast.

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence) *Gender is a social construct and I refuse to participate in this narrative.

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you? *Many, not to brag.

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar? *The last time I watched "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure", probs.

11: Do you have any strange phobias? *No, Imma basic bih

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose? *Noooo?

13: What’s your religion? *Atheist raised Catholic

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? *walking to the lake

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it? *Behind

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band? *The Foo Fighters

17: What was the last lie you told? *I'm sure I've told one today--everyone lies--but I can't remember

18: Do you believe in karma? *No, that would mean that I believe in a higher power

19: What does your URL mean? *Stripper name

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength? *Weakness = Not giving a shit (Husband says CARBS) Strength = Not giving a shit (Husband says it's my ability to keep my eye on the big picture)

21: Who is your celebrity crush? *I like Fassbender, even though I don't think he's that great of an actor, traditionally handsome, and I don't think we'd get along were we ever to meet or be forced to interact. Crushes are kind of weird little things.

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping? *No

23: How do you vent your anger? *Scream into a pillow or write a scathing letter and never send it.

24: Do you have a collection of anything? *So many things

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online? *Video chat

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become? *Yes

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love? *I hate too much noise, and I love the quiet. (ha ha)

28: What’s your biggest “what if”? *What if we don't "make it"?

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens? *Ghosts = no, Aliens = FUCK YES ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm. *My leather sectional couch

31: Smell the air. What do you smell? *Cinnamon rolls baking in the oven

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to? *There was this campground we went to when I was about 12 or 13 in Brown County, IN and it rained the entire time and I ended up getting my first UTI.

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast? *East Coast

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender? *uuuuuhhh......don't really fancy any singers.

35: To you, what is the meaning of life? *Arrive late, fuck shit up, leave. LOLZ

36: Define Art. *I have nothing profound to say that's not already been said. I have a great-uncle named Art who lives in Indianapolis?

37: Do you believe in luck? *No, you make your own

38: What’s the weather like right now? *Dark

39: What time is it? *9:38p EST

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed? *Yes, and a couple of times, both involving black ice

41: What was the last book you read? *For Fun? Pride and Prejudice. I want to re-read all of Austen's novels

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline? *Sure.

43: Do you have any nicknames? *Yes

44: What was the last film you saw? *WONDER WOMAAAAAAAAN (2017)

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had? *I broke my left ankle in March

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly? *Yes

47: Do you have any obsessions right now? *No

48: What’s your sexual orientation? *Hetero

49: Ever had a rumor spread about you? *Probably

50: Do you believe in magic? *Ever fallen in love? That's a sort-of magic.

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong? *Until my last dying breath, LOL

52: What is your astrological sign? *Aeries

53: Do you save money or spend it? *Save

54: What’s the last thing you purchased? *I had some prescriptions filled.

55: Love or lust? *It depends on if you want Mr(s). Right or Mr(s). Right Now

56: In a relationship? *Since 1993

57: How many relationships have you had? *Romantic? 25

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue? *No

59: Where were you yesterday? *Many places on Earth

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you? *Yes, my Chihuahua, Pinky

61: Are you wearing socks right now? *Fuck socks

62: What’s your favorite animal? *I love foxes. We have a family that lives by the lake and I see them a lot at night when I'm walking my husky.

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you? *Paying attention to little things and don't try to one-up them.

64: Where is your best friend? *He's sitting next to me. (husband)

65: Give me your top 5 favorite blogs on Tumblr. *Anglerfishy *The-Haven-of-Fiction *DisasterGeek *WriterNotWaiting *DrBennedict

66: What is your heritage? *Irish/German

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM? *Probably reading

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name? *Morningstar

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off? *Almost every day. ;)

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend? *Absolutely.

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do? *SAVE the FUCKING DOG

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid? *A) No B) Nothing different. I like my life C) Bring it on bitch

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love. *TRUST

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it? *Smells Like Teen Spirit--Nirvana

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number? *3825 (ha ha not really, see if you can figure out what that spells)

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship? *Never falling out of love at the same time (it happens, yeah--they don't tell you that before you get married)

77: How can I win your heart? *It's the little things....and compassion/kindness

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity? *Hmmm, I don't think it would necessarily dampen it? Unless one could LITERALLY not function.

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so *Forgiving those who have wronged me

80: What size shoes do you wear? *US 10

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone? *I'm going to be cremated and my ashes pressed into a gem that will be mounted on the hilt of a sword that will be used to avenge my death because YOU KNOW the only way I'm dying is by MURDER!!!!

82: What is your favorite word? *FUCK

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart. *Elastic

84: What is a saying you say a lot? *Oh my god

85: What’s the last song you listened to? *Ha Ha The Red--Chevelle

86: Basic question; what’s your favorite color/colors? *Black, gray, dark blue, dark red, olive green

87: What is your current desktop picture? *David Tennant as The Doctor snapping his fingers to close the Tardis doors

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be? *ONLY ONE PERSON?? It's too hard to choose.....

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on? *How do you REALLY feel about me?

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do? *Well, if Mummies were able to somehow come back to life and were surrounding my bed--that ALSO means I can teleport, sooooooo...buh-bye

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power? *The ability to control the arachnid and insect populations of the world.

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again? *...........I'm good, thanks.

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? *My entire childhood before my parents divorced. My father is an abusive alcoholic/addict

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be? *Yeah, I'll pass.

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? *London to see meh Bestie and his Partner

96: Do you have any relatives in jail? *Not that I know of

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car? *No

98: Ever been on a plane? *Yes

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say? *I voted for Hilary!!

#personal #Sparkles-M-Fantastic

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kimhyunmin92 · 7 years

Text

Something I read over the net.. worth every minute..

So it goes like this: Did I ever tell you about Ashton? Ashton was your classic corn-fed farm boy. His parents had been hippies who never really managed to get their acts together until his mother inherited 15 acres in a rural part of Michigan. The family moved out there, bought a couple of dairy goats, and struggled to make a living selling organic goat cheese to the yuppies at the Ann Arbor Farmer’s Market. From the time he was ten years old, Ashton had to wake up every morning at 4:00 a.m. and milk those damn goats, and it was exhausting. Ashton loved going to school because it meant he wasn’t working knee-deep in goat poop. Throughout high school, he studied his ass off, hoping that a scholarship to a good university would be his ticket out of the farm. He found college to be so much easier than farm life that he didn’t understand why everyone else didn’t get straight A’s like him. He majored in Software Engineering because he couldn’t imagine engineers ever being required to wake up at 4:00 a.m. Ashton graduated from school without knowing much about the software industry, really, so he went to the career fair, applied for three jobs, got accepted by all three, and picked the one that paid the most: something insane like $32,000 a year, working at a big furniture company in the southwestern part of the state that manufactured cubicle farms for corporations all over the world. He never wanted to see a farm again, so he was determined to make a good impression on his boss, Charlie Sherman. “That’s not going to be easy,” his cubicle-mate, Jeff, said. “She’s something of a legend here.” “What do you mean?” he asked. “Well, you remember a few years ago, when there was all that uproar about Y2K?” Ashton was probably too young. “Y2K?” “You know, nobody expected that all the old computer programs written in the 1960s would still be running in 2000, so they only had room for two digits for the year. Instead of storing 1999, they would store 99. And then when the year flipped over on January 1st, 2000, the computer systems crashed, because they tried to fit “100” in two digits.” “Really? I thought that was a myth,” Ashton said. “At every other company in the world, nothing happened,” Jeff said. “They spent billions of dollars checking every line of code. But here, of course, they’re cheap bastards, so they didn’t bother doing any testing.” “Not at all?” “Zilch. Zero testing. Nada. And lo and behold, when people staggered back into work on January 2nd, not a single thing worked. They couldn’t print production schedules. They couldn’t get half of the assembly lines to even turn on. And nobody knew what shifts they were supposed to be working. The factory literally came to a standstill.” “You’re kidding,” Ashton said. “I shit you not. The factory was totally silent. Now, Charlie, she was new then. She had been working at Microsoft, or NASA, or something... nobody could figure out why someone like her would be working in our little armpit of a company. But she sat down, and she started coding. And coding. And coding..” “Charlie coded for nine days straight. Nine days without sleeping, without eating, some people even claimed she never went to the bathroom. She went from system to system and literally fixed all of them. It was something to behold. My God, there were COBOL systems in there that needed to be fixed. The whole factory at a standstill, and Charlie is sending people to the university library in Ann Arbor to find old COBOL manuals. Assembly-line workers are standing around shivering, because even the thermostats had a Y2K bug. And Charlie is drinking cup after cup of coffee and typing like a madwoman.” “Wow. And she never went to the bathroom?” “Well, that part might be a little bit of an exaggeration. But she really did work 24 hours for nine days straight. Anyway, on January 11th, about five minutes before the day shift is supposed to start, she comes out of her cubicle, goes to the line printer, hits a button, and boom! out comes the production schedules, and the team schedules, and everything is perfect, perfectly formatted, using a slightly smaller font so that the “2000” fits where it used to say “99,” and she’s even written a new priority optimizing system that helps them catch up with 9 days of missed production without pissing off too many customers, and all the assembly lines start running like nothing was ever wrong, and the heat comes on, and the invoices come out printed with ‘2000’ as the year instead of ‘19100,’ and after that day, nobody found a single bug.” “Oh come on!” Ashton says. “Nobody writes code without bugs.” “She did. I saw it with my own eyes. The first day back they ran two days worth of cubicles without a hiccup.” Ashton was dumbstruck. “That’s epic. How can I live up to that?” “You can’t, buddy, nobody can,” Jeff said, turning back to his computer terminal, where he resumed an online flame war over who would win in a fight, Spock or Batman, which had been raging for over four months. Not one to give up, Ashton swore he would, one day, do something legendary. But the truth is, there never was another Y2K. And nobody, in that part of Michigan, gave a rat’s ass about good programming. There was almost nothing for the programmers to do, in fact. Ashton got dumb little projects assigned to him... at one point he spent three weeks working on handling a case where the sales tax in one particular country was wrong because some zip code spanned two different sales tax zones. The funny thing was, it was in some unpopulated part of New York State where nobody ever bought office cubicles, and they had never had a customer there, so his code would never run. Ever. For two years Ashton came into work enthusiastic and excited, and dying to make a difference and do something terrific and awesome, while his coworkers surfed the Internet, sent instant messages to their friends, and played computer solitaire for hours. Jeff, his cubicle-mate, only had one responsibility: updating the weekly Excel spreadsheet indicating how many people were hurt on the job that week. Nobody ever was. Once a week, Jeff opened the spreadsheet, went to the bottom of the page, entered the date and a zero, hit save, and that was that. Ashton even wrote a macro for Jeff that automated that one task. Jeff didn’t want to get caught, so he refused to install it. They weren’t on speaking terms after that. It was awkward. On the morning of his two year anniversary at the cubicle company, Ashton was driving to work when he realized something. Not one line of code that he had written had ever run. Not one thing he had done in two years of work made any impact on the world. And it was 24 degrees in that part of Michigan, and it was gray, and smelly, and his car was a piece of crap, and he didn’t have any friends in town, and nothing he did mattered. As he drove down Lincoln Avenue, he saw the furniture company ahead on the left. Three flags fluttered in front of the corporate campus: an American flag, a flag of the great state of Michigan, and a white and red flag with the company logo. He got in the turning lane behind a long line of cars waiting to turn left. It always took four or five traffic light cycles, at rush hour, to make the turn, so Ashton had plenty of time to try to remember if any code he had ever written was ever used by anyone. And it hadn’t. And he fought back a tear. And instead of turning left, he went straight, almost causing an accident because he forgot that the left turn light didn’t mean you could go straight. And he drove right down Lincoln Avenue, and got onto the Gerald Ford freeway, and he just kept driving until he got to the airport over in Grand Rapids, and he left his crappy old Honda out right in front of the terminal, knowing perfectly well it would be towed, and didn’t even close the car door, and he walked right up to the Frontier Airlines counter and he bought himself a ticket on the very next flight to San Francisco, which was leaving in 20 minutes, and he got on the plane, and he left Michigan forever. Moral of the story? - When you try to live up to other people's standards you will always fail to reach them. Only concentrate on being the best you can. Also, if one is eager for success, then one must go to where success can be had. In simple words focus on being yourself, and hustle, because good things only come to those who hustle. - If you aren't making a difference in your job or have any opportunities to advance, get a job where you will. *That’s some powerful message behind the long story*

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