#how to deal with existential crises in two songs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

betweenthetimeandsound · 3 years

Text

Three Minutes to Eternity: My ESC 250 (#58-57)

#58: Friderika Bayer -- Kinek mondjam el vétkeimet? (Hungary 1994)

“Semmi sincs, csak fénytelen éj Csak szótlan bánat, hiú remény Nincsen hûség, nincs szerelem Nincs simitó kéz nekem”

“There is nothing, just the lightless night Just speechless sorrow, just illusive hope There is no loyalty, no love There's no caressing hand for me”

Seven countries debuted in the 1994 contest (including Russia--see #149 about that), and I thought this was the best of all of them. While To nie ja showcased Edyta's vocals and put her on the road to superstardom in Poland, Kinek mondjam el vetkimet does something more than that for me, as it creates a compelling soundscape and actually makes me feel something.

The song puts Friderika in a vulnerable situation, where she seeks somebody to talk to. It gets occasionally interpreted as a teenage pregnancy, because of the line "A meg sem született gyermekemnek"/"In spite of nobody dying and no children being born" and the English version suggesting that the narrator aborted the child. I didn't get that sense while I was listening to it, but I could relate to it a lot, because of the need to relieve oneself of the burdens that haunt them in life. I felt lonely at times, and need someone to talk to about life. (also, the title translates to "To whom I may confess my sins?", and the slight religious hints intrigues me again, haha)

The minimalistic instrumentation highlights that fragility; there's the guitarist playing that melody, the occasional tambourine, and the orchestra in the background. They create a little world for three minutes, filled with longing and the need to cry. It's almost like a prayer for understanding, because of the simplicity and sincerity of it. And it is just pure gold, deservingly getting Hungary’s best entry to date (for now, I hope).

P.S. A shout-out for @eurosong and @white-eyed-girl; both really love this song, but for the former, it's their favorite Eurovision song ever!

Personal ranking: 1st/25 Actual ranking: 4th/25 in Dublin

Final Impressions on:

--1994: It's known for having seven new countries come over (four that missed out on Kvalificacija za Millstreet in Hungary, Slovakia, Romania, and Estonia, along with Poland, Russia, and Lithuania), along with being an especially ballad-heavy year. Several times in the running order, it seemed like all the songs blurred together, though I do think that the song quality was high enough to keep it from being bad. Most notably, Riverdance blew everyone out of the water with its use of Irish dance; it became more popular than the whole starting lineup. Basically, that was epic, along with the crowd in Point Theatre cheering for Ireland when they received multiple 12 points to get their third straight title.

--Hungary: Definitely one of the more unique countries in the contest, in terms of what they send. Looking back, they were more up-and-down in terms of quality, but they never leaned towards something more "basic". When they did deliver, they really did in spades; that helped with maintaining an eight-year qualification streak between 2011 and 2018. Sadly, they withdrew because of their increasingly authoritarian government, which is made even worse because they looked like they were going to win. Hopefully, they come back soon!

#57: Minouche Barelli -- Boum Badaboum (Monaco 1967)

“Avant de faire tout sauter, boum boum Laissez-moi le temps d’aimer, badaboum Laissez-moi encore la vie, boum boum Au moins mille et une nuits, badaboum”

“Before blowing everything up, boom boom Leave me the time to love, badaboom Still leave me my life, boom boom At least a thousand and one nights, badaboom”

Another Serge Gainsbourg-penned song, I find it quite interesting. Whereas Poupée de cire, poupée de son (#179) and White and Black Blues (#74) deal with similar thoughtful issues with well-written lyrics, Boum Badaboum is a lot more straightforward.

Despite the silly title, it has a serious message about trying to enjoy what life is about before she gets killed in a nuclear explosion. The United States and the Soviet Union were just hours away from catalyzing a nuclear war five years ago, and yet amongst the negotiations and proxy wars of the Cold War, tension remains. These pleas are almost drowned out amongst the cacophony of the "bada-boums", which can be an acquired taste to some people.

Mincouche's voice is a bit shouty, which when combined with the instrumentation, makes me waver on whether or not I truly like the song. However, it does gets the message across the poppy soundscape, and she performs it with a bit of mischief amongst the despair. The orchestration for this makes it so cool and groovy, you wouldn't know that she's shouting for a little bit of peace!

Personal ranking: 1st/17 Actual ranking: 5th/17 in Vienna

#eurovision song contest #eurovision #esc250 #esc 250 #esc top 250 #esc hungary #friderika #friderika bayer #esc 1994 #esc monaco #minouche barelli #esc 1967 #how to deal with existential crises in two songs #another quite versus loud song #but they both have meaning #vintage eurovision #three minutes to eternity

2 notes · View notes

aedelia · 3 years

Text

Burnt Bacon and Bright Stars

Truce present for @grimgrinningghoul !

Danny has had a lot on his mind since he got his powers. Even more so since he dealt with Spectra. He decides to trust his family and finds that some things never change. AO3 | FF.net

Burnt Bacon and Bright Stars

Danny was stretched out on his favorite starry blue blanket while looking up at the night sky. His father was next to him on a big blanket the same color as Mars and talking about ghosts. His voice was big and bounced off the shiny walls as he waved his arms around. Danny liked how his dad talked with his hands and tonight, he’d used his hands to point out Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. To Danny, his father was like Ursa Major, large and bright, and he was Ursa Minor, smaller but still just like him.

“And when the Ops Center is complete, those ghosts won’t be able to hide anymore! This baby will have the most advanced ectoplasm sensing satellites scanning for traces all over the northern hemisphere!”

Danny looked up at his father and wistfully said, “I wanna be a ghost someday. Then I can go to space and fly to the moon.” He rolled over on his side, propped his chin on his hand, and his elbow on the floor. His dad rolled over and mirrored Danny’s position.

“Oh Danny-boy, you don’t want to be a ghost. Ghosts are scary and want to hurt people.”

“Nuh-uh, I would be a good ghost and not be scary. I would even make sure to do all of my chores and help old ladies with their groceries!”

Daddy said, “But Danny-boy, Mommy and Daddy hunt ghosts. We try to catch them and protect people because ghosts are bad.”

Danny pouted before shaking his head, “I would be a good ghost and save people instead of hurt them, like a superhero!”

His dad chuckled as he stood up. “Ghost powers would be good superpowers for heroes if they weren’t bad,” he said.

Danny sat up.

“Ghost powers would be the best for exploring outer space! If you don’t need to breathe then you wouldn’t need an oxygen tank and you could carry a whole bunch of useful tools and bring back space rocks. If you could go intangible then you wouldn’t have to worry about friction leaving or reentering the atmosphere, you wouldn’t need a space suit and could just fly straight to the moon!” Danny pointed up at the full moon which brightly shined over the town. “It would be so easy to explore the other planets in our solar system with ghost powers. Dust on Mars wouldn’t be a problem, storms on Jupiter wouldn’t be a problem. I could go count the rings of Saturn and compare them to Jupiter’s ring.”

Danny hugged his knees to his chest before asking, “Daddy, would you and Mommy hunt me if I was a ghost? Even if I was a good ghost?”

Danny’s father crouched next to him and put his large hand on the boy’s shoulder, “If you were a ghost, I would know you’re good, even if you have big teeth and pointy claws and horns,” He scooped him up and gently swung him around through the air, “Even if you turned green and hairy. As long as you’re Danny I will always love you!” He brought his son to face him, “Even if you turned into a ghost, you’ll always be my little boy.”

Danny giggled and put his hands on his father’s cheeks and gave him nose kisses. “I love you too Daddy!”

Jack gathered the blankets and slung them over one shoulder and Danny over the other. He carried the giggling boy down the stairs all the way to the kitchen. He plopped his son into his chair.

“Well, Mommy and Jazzy-pants should be back soon from the store, and I think they’re bringing home pizza!”

Danny laughed at the nickname for his sister before cheering, “Yay! Pizza!” He threw his hands in the air. “Do the pizza dance, Daddy!”

Jack sighed dramatically before smiling and saying, “Ok, I’ll do the pizza dance.”

He danced around the kitchen, waving his arms and occasionally chanting, “Pizza! Pizza! I want some pizza!”

Danny wiggled in his seat and yelled, “Pizza! Pizza!” every time his dad did. They were loud enough that neither of them heard the click of the front door opening and shutting, or noticed that Maddie and Jazz were home until Maddie’s voice joined in the song..

“Pizza, pizza, here’s the pizza!” She sang as she danced into the kitchen with two big pizza boxes.

Jazz bounced into the room chattering about how excited she was to start first grade and how happy she was to have the big colored pencil box that had all of the important colors and its own special sharpener. Jack danced around Maddie before he pulled her into a spin and dipped her for a kiss while his other hand held the pizza boxes steady.

“Ewww.” Danny and Jazz said together.

When Jack released Maddie and took the pizzas, she asked, “So what have you two boys been up to while we were gone?”

Jack turned to put the boxes on the counter. As he grabbed paper plates and napkins out of the cupboard he replied, “Me and Danny were taking advantage of the clear sky and were stargazing up in the ops center.”

Maddie turned back to face him with her hands on her hips and a mild look of disapproval.

“I hope you cleaned up the floor before you let Danny up there,” she said.

Jack kissed her on the forehead before he passed her some plates.

“Don’t worry, I cleaned up the floor and made sure to put down blankets.”

Maddie beamed up at Jack while Danny and Jazz made gagging sounds at their affection.

“I also told Danny a little about ghosts and what they can do.”

“I want to be a ghost someday!” Danny exclaimed from his seat at the table.

“A ghost? Jack!” Maddie scolded as she turned from Danny’s beaming face to Jack’s stiff shoulders.

She kneeled next to Danny’s chair.

“Danny, why would you want to be a ghost? Ghosts are bad and they attack people.” She explained.

“Ghost powers would be the best for exploring outer space! And I could do my chores faster and go to the Moon and Mars and all of the other planets!” He rambled. “I would be a nice superhero ghost Mommy.”

“I suppose those would be some good uses for ghost powers, sweetie.” She said as she ruffled his hair.

Jazz piped up from across the table, “Ghosts aren’t real, but if they were, Danny couldn’t be a scary or mean ghost even if he tried. So, Danny would be a good ghost if they did exist.”

Maddie smiled and said, “Yes, our Danny couldn’t be a bad ghost. If either of you were ghosts we would still love you.”

Danny leaned forward in bed and stretched his arms out over his head. The last several nights he had been thinking hard about whether or not he should tell his parents the truth about his accident. His powers were pretty much under control now. He hadn’t had any intangibility or invisibility accidents for at least a couple of weeks. He had been trying to remember all the times that his parents had mentioned ghosts before the portal was built. This had been on his mind so much now that he had continued to relive his memories in his dreams. If there was a ghost that could affect dreams or memories he’d be concerned, but he hadn’t heard of any with powers like that.

The memory he had dreamt of this time was from when he was little. He remembered the unfinished walls of the ops center and the silly dance his dad would do whenever they had pizza. Maybe this was the sign he needed that it was time to tell them.

Danny grabbed his phone from the nightstand and called Tucker. His heart felt like it was beating in his ears as the other line rang. After a few unending seconds, he heard a click, and then Tucker’s voice.

“Danny? Are you ok?”

“Tucker, you know how I’ve been thinking about telling my parents about the whole half ghost thing? I had a dream last night and I remembered that when I was little I told them I wanted to be a ghost.”

There was a lengthy pause before Tucker groaned, “Dude. It’s 4 am.”

Danny cringed slightly as he looked over at his alarm clock.

“Were they ok with you wanting to be a ghost when you were a little kid?” Tucker asked. “Because I can’t see them being too thrilled about it. Even back when we were little they were pretty anti-ghost.”

“I remember I told them I wanted to be a ghost because ghost powers would be great for exploring space and the Moon. I even told them how I would use the basic powers to go into space if I was a ghost. They wanted to remind me that ghosts were bad but they did say that if I was a ghost they wouldn’t hunt me. Dad even said that ghost powers would be good superpowers.”

“Well it seems like you already want to tell them and I have been saying you should tell them since you got your powers. Have you even tried to go to space since you got them?” he asked.

“Tucker,” Danny groaned. “I’ve been way too busy trying to deal with the ghosts that’ve been invading and trying not to flunk all of my classes to even think about going to space.”

Tucker snorted. “I’m sure you’ve managed to at least think of it, but seriously, it’s probably a good idea to tell them before something bad happens and someone gets hurt. Who knows what kind of nasty ghost could attack next?”

“Yeah, you’re right. The longer I wait the harder this’ll be. Thanks for helping me talk it out.”

“Sure thing, buddy. Just, try to keep the existential dilemmas and mental crises to daylight hours.”

“I make no promises.” Danny chuckled.

“Alright, fair enough. But if that’s everything, talk to you later. I’ll even warn Sam for you so she won’t try to talk you out of it.”

“Thanks Tucker, you’re the best.”

“You know it!” Tucker answered before hanging up the call.

Danny laid back down, thoughts racing, as he tried to think of how to tell his parents.

“Hey Mom and Dad, you remember how the ghost portal wasn’t working at first? Well I did get it to start…but I happened to be inside it?” He dragged his hand over his face with a groan.

“Hey you know how we aren’t supposed to be messing around in the lab because it’s dangerous? Well I may have disregarded the rules…but at least now the portal is working?” He grabbed his hair and tugged at it in frustration.

“Maybe I should start with Jazz. I know she has to believe in ghosts now since she saw Phantom and Spectra after the Spirit Rally last week. She did say that I can talk to her about anything though I doubt this was what she was expecting.”

Decision now made, Danny slid out of bed and crept down the hall to Jazz’s room. Her door was slightly ajar with light spilling into the hallway so she must’ve been awake. He lightly knocked on the door and poked his head in through the gap.

Jazz sat in bed in comfortable pajamas with a book in hand.

“Danny? You’re up early.” She checked the clock. “I’m surprised to see you before noon on a Saturday. Come in. Is something wrong?”

Danny shuffled into the room and softly closed the door behind him. He rubbed the back of his neck as he stood by the entrance. His eyes skipped past his sister’s face as they roved over the bookshelves stuffed with psychology and science textbooks. She still had all of her spelling bee medals pinned and hanging around the border of the cork board behind her desk. With posters of quotes from famous scientists intermixed with handwritten motivational phrases, her personality practically oozed from the walls. Now that he was actually in her room, it was like all of his confidence had just evaporated.

As the silence dragged longer, Jazz put her book aside and patted the bed next to her. Danny gingerly stepped forward before he perched on the edge of the bed.

Jazz rolled her eyes and pulled him closer. Once she had rearranged the blankets to cover both of them she said lightly, “Just like when we were little and you would sneak into my bed after nightmares.”

Danny chuckled, tension broken, and said, “Speaking of when we were little, do you remember right when you were in, I don’t know, first grade, and I told Mom and Dad that I wanted to be a ghost someday?”

He felt her go very still. She stared straight ahead for a long moment before she shook her head and answered.

“I do remember that. They were still doing that ridiculous pizza dance back then. Wasn’t that before they finished the Ops Center? You used to stargaze up there with whoever you could convince to go up with you.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “Well, remember how we basically all agreed that I couldn’t be a bad or scary ghost even if I tried?”

“I do remember that, too.” she laughed. “Of course, now we all know that ghosts actually do exist. But I stand by what I said back then, even if ghosts exist, you wouldn’t be a bad ghost.”

Danny managed a half smile and took a deep breath.

“So a few months ago when I had the accident in the lab I got more than just a shock. I was in the portal when it turned on and ever since I’ve had ghost powers and can turn into a ghost. I’m not dead! I can turn back to well, mostly normal, very easily. The ghosts call me the halfa, half ghost, half boy. I’ve been catching the ghosts that come through the portal and putting them back in the ghost zone. They aren’t all bad either. I’ve met a few nice ghosts that live in, well haunt, the human world. They’ve been really friendly and helpful! Some of them just want to be left alone, you know? I’m rambling now aren’t I?”

Danny paused for a breath and raised his head from his knees to how Jazz was taking it. She smiled at him.

“Uh, Jazz? Are you going to say anything?”

Instead of responding, she pulled him into a tight hug. It took a moment for him to relax.

“Jazz?” he asked with a sniff, “C’mon you can’t just-“

“I am so proud of you!” she said. “I know it was very brave of you to tell me a big secret like that.”

“Wait, you already knew?” he asked.

“I suspected something was going on for a while, but I only found out last week during the Spectra thing at the Spirit Rally. I was hoping you would tell me when you were ready. I’m proud of you for telling me, and for all you’ve been doing to protect everyone. I’ve been doing what I could to help cover for you with Mom and Dad and your teachers.”

“You have?” He asked, eyebrows creeping into his hairline.

“I may be your bossy big sister, but I care for you and I don’t want to make things harder or more stressful for you.” She paused, and then asked, “Are you planning on telling Mom and Dad next?”

“I thought you just said that you were trying not to make things more stressful for me.” Danny teased. “But yeah, I guess remembering how supportive they were when we were little was the push that I needed to be ready.”

“Well, I’m sure they’re awake now, and the kitchen should be pretty safe right now. I made them clean up their experiments yesterday. If you’re ready, now would be a good time.”

“Yeah…you’re right, it just feels like a lot to tell them. Even knowing that they’ll accept me, I’m still worried that they won’t see me the same, or that they’ll want me to stop hunting ghosts.” Danny said as he slipped out of her arms and off the bed. “Will you come down and back me up when I tell them?” he asked.

“Of course I will! Just give me a couple of minutes to grab a few things and I’ll be right down.”

Jazz flipped her blankets off revealing her favorite pajamas that were covered in different scientific formulas.

“You’re still a nerd.” Danny said as he ducked back out of her room.

“And you’re a dork.” She retorted.

“I love you too!” he called as he headed towards the stairs.

Danny paused at the top of the steps and pulled out his phone to message his friends.

Danny: About to tell my parents

Wish me luck!

Tucker: You don’t need luck

Sam: If things go bad come to my house, I can hide you in my closet.

it’s big enough to have its own ensuite

Tucker: Sweet!

He let out a humorless chuckle and put his phone away. A few seconds later Jazz walked up behind him with a large binder titled, Reasons Why Not All Ghosts are Bad, and Especially not Danny.

“You had enough time to make a whole thing of why ghosts aren’t all bad?” he asked.

“Don’t be silly, I’ve been working on this since the first ghosts showed up and started adding in the bits specifically about you last week. I thought it might come in handy one day to have all of the evidence together.”

“I both admire and fear your organization.” Danny said.

Jazz sniffed imperiously and said, “As you should.”

Danny went down the stairs slowly with Jazz trailing behind him. He stopped at the doorway to the kitchen, but Jazz gave him a gentle push across the threshold.

“Morning, sweetie!” his mom called from the stove where she was frying up surprisingly non-ectoplasmic bacon and eggs.

“Good Morning, son!” his father said from the kitchen table where he was tinkering with a gadget, parts strewn all across the tabletop.

From behind him, Jazz facepalmed and muttered, “So much for keeping the kitchen clean.”

Danny cleared his throat.

“Mom, Dad, I have something I need to tell you.” He picked at one of the holes in his pajama sleeves as he waited for their response.

“Is it about ghosts?” His dad asked.

“Well, kinda.” Danny answered, now rubbing the back of his neck.

“Have ghosts been threatening my boy?” His dad demanded as he leapt up from the table.

“Well yes, and no…” Danny’s voice trailed off.

“What ectoplasmic scum thinks it can mess with a Fenton? I’ll tear it apart molecule by molecule!” Jack exclaimed with his fist in the air.

“Now Jack, calm down,” Maddie turned from the stove and put her hand on his arm, “I’m sure that whatever is going on will make more sense after Danny has had a chance to tell us about it.”

Danny chuckled nervously, glad that Jazz was behind him for moral support. “Let me just start from the beginning then. A few months ago when I had that accident in the lab and got the portal working, I was a lot closer to it than I told you.”

“How close were you?” Maddie asked.

Danny hugged himself as he answered, “I was inside it, there was an ‘on’ button on the inside and I accidentally hit it while I was looking in it.”

“But Danny, the shock of that much electricity, not to mention the ectoplasm, should have killed you! You were fine when we came home and the portal was working.”

Maddie quickly ran over to him, scrutinizing him for signs of injury.

“I was fine! I still am!” Danny added as he backed away with his hands in the air. “I just had a few more side effects than the tingling and numbness from the shock. What I’m saying is, ever since the accident with the portal, I’ve had ghost powers.”

“Ghost powers? Sweetie, humans can’t have ghost powers.” She put the back of her hand to his forehead to check for a fever and then grabbed his wrist to check his pulse. “You don’t have a fever, and your heartbeat is steady if a bit slow. Honey, you’re not a ghost.”

“I know, I’m still human most of the time, I can turn into a ghost and back at will and can use my powers in either form.” He held up his free hand. “Here, look.” Then he flickered his hand in and out of visibility.

His mom frowned. “I suppose the high concentration of ectoplasm would have prevented you from crossing to the other side, especially as you would have been effectively on both sides if you were in the portal when it activated. Is this why you’ve been dropping glassware at school?”

“Yeah, getting control of the powers was a little tricky at first and several times they went off while I was holding beakers or flasks in science class. And that’s basically the theory so far, that being in the portal when it activated saved me from actually dying.”

“Son, why did it take so long for you to tell us?” his dad asked.

Danny looked down, unable to meet his dad’s eyes or to look at his mom wrapped around him. “I was afraid. At first I didn’t want to worry you guys or get in trouble for not obeying lab safety rules. Then I was hunting the ghosts that were attacking the town and I didn’t want you to try to stop me when I’m able to help protect people. I was also worried that you would see me as a ghost instead of your son or not believe me when I told you.”

“Oh sweetie, of course we believe you’re still you. This does explain why almost all of our inventions were going off around you. You’re very lucky that you didn’t get hurt! We’ll have to work at modifying them to ignore your signature.” His mom said.

“Whether you’re a boy, a ghost, or something in between, you’re our son and we love you.” Jack added as he picked up both his wife and his son in a hug. “I bet you’ve got all kinds of insider information on ghosts now! Think of how much you can help advance our understanding of ghosts and how they interact with our world!”

“We love you, sweetie. No matter what.” Maddie said.

“I knew everything would be alright.” Jazz cheered as she joined the group hug.

Danny smiled and basked in the acceptance of his family. He’d been pretty sure that they would accept him, but it still felt amazing to have his trust validated.

A moment later, he wrinkled his nose.

“I think the bacon’s burning.”

Jazz jumped out of the hug.

“I’ve got it! None of you move!” She exclaimed.

She hurried over to the stove, flipped the bacon, and turned the heat down.

As he sat in his parents’ arms, Danny decided that slightly burnt bacon was his new favorite smell.

50 notes · View notes

iwillnotburnmyjournals · 3 years

Text

What Are You Doing, Julie??

I made a decision that is vague and formless and without guarantee, and also requires attention, detail, self-awareness, and tirelessness.

I am not working for a month. No day job, no part-time. I am meditating, working through “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron, and writing music for a month. This may sound ideal to some, stupid or entitled or not a big deal to others. One of many motivations for this month was that I recently had a conversation with a friend who had decided to switch from being an actor to going back to school for social work and possibly an eventual law degree. When I asked her why the switch, she responded, “When I really sat down with myself, I just knew I didn’t actually want to spend my energy putting in the kind of work it would take to be an actor. But I’ll always be a performer at heart.”

And I thought, “Good lord, have I ever been that honest with myself about what I want to do?”

For me, this month is a small protest against my denial of past years as well as an experiment. For almost a decade, I have gone through a series of begrudging and slow admittances. At first, I pretended that I just couldn’t find the correct job or career path, I wasn’t sure of what I wanted to do. (This kept concerned adults off my back for a bit). And so I bought myself some time and meandered in a career-malaise for five years after college, working various and multiple jobs, none of them satisfying whatever I was craving. I had an ex tell me I was never going to find what I was looking for – which is laughable considering no one should ever say that to another person, and also considering that I was years away from saying out loud what I actually was looking for.

I wrote two songs in college. Stopped. Started again in 2016 and wrote most of the songs I have now, maybe 10 “finished” – (are they ever fucking finished?) – songs. Stopped. I didn’t write again for three years, but all the while was reading memoirs of artists and musicians, how-to-creativity books while deeply embarrassed that I needed a how-to at all. In 2019, I admitted that I at least wanted to move to New York City so I could be near music, so I could see live shows, so I could perform if I wanted to. I was inching myself closer to the edge, like a little kid who’s still in swimmies inching her way to dip her toes in the deep end. But I still wasn’t writing.

After having a conversation in April with a fellow musician about Charlie Parker locking himself in his apartment for two years to play music for 16 hours a day and do heroin, I said, “Fuck it. I’m tired of saying I want something and not doing anything to move toward it.” It’s easy to think that if you love something enough, you will magically just find a way to do it. This is not the case for me. It seems that I find every excuse I can not to write. When I told a friend a few years ago how writing for me was often like extracting an arrow lodged in my chest and that I ran away from it as much as possible, his response was, “Well, maybe you just shouldn’t write.” I’ve hated that response ever since he voiced it.

Annie Dillard was the one person who gave me permission to realize and admit that I was cripplingly afraid of writing, and rightly so. Her small masterpiece, The Writing Life, is a mortar and pestle to the ego if you’re stuck in the shadowlands of thinking you want to write when all you really want is attention (large neon blinking arrow to my head.) In representing the frustrating, often fruitless, painstaking process of writing, Annie uses the metaphor of an architect who has a sole worker who refuses to work on the architect’s building design, claiming it is faulty. She writes, “Acknowledge, first, that you cannot do nothing . . . Subject the next part, the part at which the worker balks, to harsh tests. It harbors an unexamined and wrong premise. Something completely necessary is false or fatal. Once you find it, and if you can accept the finding, of course it will mean starting again. This is why many experienced writers urge young men and women to learn a useful trade.” I’ve always hated when artistic types say, “If you can do without this [art], you should try.” It’s always seemed egotistical or pejorative to me. But now I get it. The thought of so much self-accountability, starting and failing and having to be one the one who declares you yourself have failed, terrifies me and seems so pointless.

But I really do have masochist in my bloodstream. Whatever terrifies me, I’m a bloodhound for. So, when I realized I kept saying I wanted to be a singer-songwriter while simultaneously sneaking out the backdoor of my brain and action to get away from just that, I figured I should test myself. At least I’ll know whether I’m a total fraud and attention-grabber, or whether this is what I need to do. Bob Dylan’s words that the world doesn’t need any more songs ring in my ears daily. But I guess that’s a good litmus test if I persist in writing songs while the greatest American songwriter repeats that mantra in my ear.

So, I am dedicating this month to meditation, working through “The Artist’s Way” by Julia Cameron, and writing music. I will be giving updates, either written or video recorded, each day. Not for attention or because “this is so original” but because I read a book years ago called Show Your Work by Austin Kleon and one of his pieces of advice was to share your creative processes with others rather than wait to show a perfected result. That and I am so horribly cock-blocked when it comes to expressing what I truly think and feel that I’m forcing myself to put out processes/anything I’m working on where a roving eye could see it if it wanted. Seeing as how I’m pretty obsessed with people’s sketch books and rough drafts, watching people apply makeup on the subway, and existential crises in the midst of trying to get somewhere, I figured keeping some kind of public record was a good idea.

Good lord, here we fucking go.

#theartistsway #pullingaboniversanscabin #musicmonth #singersongwriter #anniedillard

3 notes · View notes

juliablogsbooks · 4 years

Text

#41 Any Ordinary Day by Leigh Sales

Premise:

“Blindsides, resilience and what happens after the worst day of your life.”

Reflections:

The thought of confronting grief terrifies me. I’ve always been in awe of people who manage grief in constructive ways - likening them to super-humans - despite intellectually knowing that these people haven’t necessarily set out to choose the pathways they are on. Yet regardless of my overt avoidance, I can recognise that this is a useful skill set to have in one’s tool belt. And so, when a person I admire published a book addressing this topic, I thought it was high time for me to start exploring it for myself too.

Leigh Sales’ ‘Any Ordinary Day’ tackles people’s experiences of grief and ‘what happens after the worst day of your life’. She draws on her own personal, traumatic ordeals and interviews a range of individuals who have gone through immense trauma themselves to understand how people cope when confronted with the unimaginable.

Each chapter begins with Sales interviewing a person who has experienced a traumatic event, outlining the crises they have faced and how they have rebuilt their lives. In the second half, Sales draws on research and expert opinion to unpack why individuals react to grief in the variety of ways that they do. Many of Sales’ interviewees will be familiar to you; such as Walter Mikac, whose wife, Nanette, and two daughters, Madeline and Alannah, were murdered in the 1996 Port Arthur massacre; as well as Stuart Diver, who was the sole survivor of the 1997 Thredbo landslide. The chapters I found particularly compelling include one that unpacks the general public’s fascination with traumatic stories; another detailing the importance of a leader’s response in times of crisis; and a chapter about how people cope with working in fields constantly surrounded by grief and trauma. These are sections I find myself continuing to reflect on as the world navigates itself through the current pandemic.

Sales is a gracious interviewer, appreciative of the trust she has been awarded by her interviewees to tell their difficult stories. She straddles the difficult line of being a compassionate interviewer and asking the awkward, and at times invasive, questions she is known for as a journalist, justifying them by stating that it’s part of her job to ask the questions that are on the general public’s mind. This was the part I had the most difficulty with reconciling, as I’m uncomfortable with the media making spectacles out of other people’s tragedies. Nevertheless, Sales identifies her own biases and blindsides, permitting readers to acknowledge and confront their own shortcomings when dealing with uncomfortable, existential questions.

Needless to say, I should have known that I’d be in good hands when I was deliberating over the perfect time to read this. ‘Any Ordinary Day’ is a simultaneously absorbing and heart-wrenching read that offers readers a pathway to understanding how to move on from times of crisis. It does this not by sugar-coating the pain experienced from traumatic incidents, or by proving glib solutions for coping with grief. Instead, Sales offers an encouraging hand of support to assure readers that they are not alone in their suffering and that difficult circumstances, though seeming insurmountable at the time, will pass. While this may sound like an unremarkable and frankly ordinary message to convey, the ability to endure and persevere when your world has been turned upside down is an extraordinary feat, and this book is a much needed reminder that it is possible.

Rating /5: 👏👏👏👏👏

Theme song:

I chose ‘Yesterday’ for a few key reasons. Firstly, Sales is a diehard Beatles and Sir Paul McCartney fan, having the privilege of interviewing the knighted musician on his 2017 Australian tour. Secondly, the lyrics, whilst most plausibly about an upsetting breakup, do also act as a suitable, broader metaphor for the melancholy we feel about times that have passed and the yearning to return to ostensibly simpler periods. Whilst the individuals Sales interviews don’t blatantly yearn for time to be rewound, they express an understanding that they have been irrevocably changed by the difficulties they have experienced; a sentiment that is also conveyed in the lyrics. Finally, the somber and wistful melody, which Sir Paul recounts having conjured in his dreams, complements the tone of the book beautifully, serving as an ideal backing track to it.

Fun fact: the working title of ‘Yesterday’ was originally ‘Scrambled Eggs’ - imagine how different the song would be if that had stuck!

#book review #fiveclaps #non fiction #Leigh Sales #Any Ordinary Day #Yesterday #paul mccartney #the beatles #penguin random house

1 note · View note

thesinglesjukebox · 5 years

Video

youtube

AMERICAN FOOTBALL FT. HAYLEY WILLIAMS - UNCOMFORTABLY NUMB

[6.17]

thesingl esjukebox

Vikram Joseph: On American Football's 1999 debut album (and, for some 17 years thereafter, their only album), laconic, meandering guitar lines intertwined and diverged, set against a pillowy backdrop of woozy horns and jazz-tinged percussion; Mike Kinsella's vocals drifted in and out like conversation through patches of broken sleep, feeling more like another instrument than a driving force for the song. The songs were rarely streamlined, but in their soft drift they captured, with heart-stopping precision, something ephemeral and intangible -- sunlit fields and slow dusks, an essence of youth and summer. "Uncomfortably Numb" is the Before Midnight to the Before Sunrise of their early songs: older, harder, burdened with regrets and worn down by disappointment. It's more conventionally structured than any other American Football song, borne on a crisp, clean, cyclical Plans-era Death Cab guitar line, and some of Kinsella's lyrics (not always his strongest suit, and better as hazy evocation rather than narrative) are a little on-the-nose ("I blamed my father in my youth/now as a father, I blame the booze"). But it builds a melancholy beauty all the same, Kinsella's voice interweaving with that of Hayley Williams in the flickering chorus; "The lessons are so much less obvious the further you get from home," rings awfully true. The solutions don't present themselves so easily when the issues get this hard to unravel. [7]

Iris Xie: How does one capture the sadness and tenderness at inevitable breakdowns, and the connected hope and sorrow that ties together such tragedy? Through a production that imitates the warmth of moving amongst muted pastel clouds, for muddled psyches and safe spaces. The creation of the space, which facilitates and echoes the depth of the relationship and their connected interiorities, is conveyed through the glowing guitars, patient drums, soft harmonizing, and evocative but hazy lyrics, and sets the environment for a simultaneous warmth and distancing, with endless compassion. There is this beautiful sound in the background where I can't tell whether it's one of the singers slowly humming in the back, or it is a gently played horn, but it is chilling in conveying their not telepathic, but almost as connected, thoughts, even from a distance. When their voices overlap, they glimmer. As Williams sings over his monologue, it results in an incredibly succinct expression of their struggles: "Now I'm used to struggling (tied to a contortionist)/for two"; his last two words are swallowed, giving an impression that he may only be starting to come to terms with how he is hurting for both him and his inner child, while she understands too well what is occurring as an outsider. This conveys clarity in what level of disaster is occurring, as he continues to turn away from home. Unfortunately, there lies the familiar tale to many womxn-identified folks, because Williams's POV remains at home, frustrated and exhausted after her sacrifice. They echo as they distance: "I just want you home/I'll make new friends/In the ambulance." The instrumentals empty out to a lingering, uncertain optimism, and complete this quiet hush of family tragedy. There are no harsh disasters here -- just the slow, ebbing progression towards the rock bottom, from which up is the only way to go. [10]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: As I get older, I find myself far more attuned to the melancholic music of singer-songwriters written in adulthood than in youth. That's partially because so many of these earlier albums -- from Down Colorful Hill to Songs About Leaving to American Football's debut -- defined my teenage years, but also because they featured incredibly overt depictions of angst and malaise. American Football's music post-reunion is far less insular, and with their aging band members comes a more precise portrait of my current life: one characterized by the ability to function in the real world despite persistent, unceasing depression. In other words, the emotions here are palpable because they're less flashy -- after all, histrionic melodrama will only draw attention to one's own childishness, and we're all trying to avoid that, right? With "Uncomfortably Numb," Mike Kinsella finally makes the song I've always wanted him to make. On "Bad News" and "Ugly on the Inside," he delivered harrowing diatribes against friends that I personally read as songs written for himself (this line of thinking being an obvious projection of my own self-hatred). But here, he enlists Paramore's Hayley Williams to take on the role of a wife who's hurt by his decisions. Her topline is unmistakably Kinsella's (the "clear"/"see-through" line being a dead ringer for his lyrical style), so this track does give the semblance of Kinsella addressing himself, but I'm mostly reminded of conversations I've had with my sister; my parents never quite understood or acknowledged my depression, so my sister was the only family member who was evidently concerned about my mental health. But after years of my sister dealing with me, I understand that if she ever caught me in the worst of states again, there would be this mix of pain and compassion and tiredness that Hayley so effortlessly captures here. Her feature is doubly affecting because she represents a generation of emo bands that came after American Football's, highlighting how Kinsella is still succumbing to these habits and mindsets perpetuated by depression. The twinkling guitars and winding drums act to remind listeners of why it can be so hard to break free; the instrumentation is as pretty as anything on the 1999 debut, but it's also incredibly familiar, incredibly safe. When depressive thoughts and actions feel like the warp and weft of your being -- the typical non-solution to dealing with hardship or success or anything at all -- it's easy to default to such a mode of living, even when the numbness is uncomfortable. [9]

Iain Mew: As a dad who just lost my dad, I'm doing the mental equivalent of holding my hand in front of my face to avoid looking at this directly. Except it's all so gentle, nothing but chiming charm, that it's more like the recent time that the sunlight through my office window was perfectly lined up with the corner of my eye but I couldn't even see it there, just notice that my eyes kept watering. [6]

Thomas Inskeep: Never have heard them before, this is American Football, the supposedly legendary emo band? Because "Uncomfortably Numb" sounds uncomfortably like a soft Jason Mraz song. Emo as Adult Contemporary in 2019: who knew? [3]

Jonathan Bradley: The first time I heard the word "emo" was from the tracklist of Blink-182's Dude Ranch; they had named one of their songs this because it sounded a bit like Jimmy Eat World. I didn't know that then, so I got on to a search engine through my high school's computer lab -- school had internet, unlike home -- and AltaVista or Ask Jeeves wondered if I might be looking for Emo Philips. Or maybe an emu? Blink's intentions remained occluded for a few more years until I caught a chance airing of a Get Up Kids song on the radio, which led me to SongMeanings' deconstructions of Sunny Day Real Estate and early Pitchfork pans of The Promise Ring. Then the girl in my drama class with the cool hair who changed her name told me I had to listen to Death Cab because "Photo Booth" was "the most emo song ever." At a time when music gleamed with such bright intention -- even the "alternative" acts of the time, like Korn or Green Day, performed in spit-polished block capitals -- these foreign bands I glimpsed through newly connected dial-up sounded like nothing else: they could be muted, they could be unhewn, they could be obtuse. They were American, but a model of Americanness that was unknowable in Australia then. They were always, in a way mass culture seemed to discourage, unfailingly and embarrassingly earnest. I never heard American Football in 1999; we had the internet at home, but my precious download quota was spent, by chance, on Braid and Texas is the Reason. Hearing the shivering guitar tendrils of "Uncomfortably Numb" now, with its calm and studied drum figures, drops me vividly back into those days. Mike Kinsella's plain voice arcs modestly over the fussiness, melding at times indistinguishably with that of his stylistic successor Hayley Williams, and maybe its only beautiful in the context of the late 20th century. But no; it is beautiful now, too. [8]

Will Rivitz: "I'll never forget the first time I heard American Football because, like, you don't forget the halcyon summer before you depart your home city and go to university," begins a review of the band's reunion LP three years ago, and I think that's pretty on the mark for how people about my age consume and relate to this kind of emo. So much of its appeal is a nostalgia for times we were too young to know when they were happening and, a few years after that, a nostalgia for that nostalgia, the age at which this was the music punching our collective gut. It's weird and a little difficult to articulate: there's something comforting about looking back at other young adults when you yourself were one, understanding that, despite differences in musical diets and environments and technology and what have you, a college-aged guitar virtuoso is probably going to have the same sorts of fears you do. That, I think, is what makes emo's particular nostalgia so powerful; as late-teenaged walking and talking existential crises, we found solace in looking back. We learned that the late-teenaged walking and talking existential crises of a few decades back both captured how we felt with stunning accuracy and, often, made it through alive, helping us feel both less alone and less desolate. Even nostalgia has its limits, though, and though there's no obvious line to demarcate absolutely everything that can be contained in emo's resonant power, it seems reasonable to conclude that Hoobastank is not one of those things. [3]

Will Adams: Wisely restrained, dreamy but devastating, and generally pleasant to hear. At least during the moments it doesn't remind me of "The Reason." [6]

Tim de Reuse: The only good things about American Football's post-reunion material have been the parts that kinda sound like they could've been written back in the nineties, when their crisp, angst-driven debut wormed its way into the hearts of many a disaffected suburbanite. Judging by this single, it looks like their 2019 album is gonna be gaudy, covered in sparkly reverb and dramatic electric guitar tremolos -- and I'm not thrilled about that -- but while I sharply disagree with their sound engineer, I can't fault the composition itself, or the gorgeous (as always) showing by drummer Steve Lamos, or the choice of subject matter. Teenage stress gives way to directionless middle-aged depression: "How will I exist," he says, and there's a weird pang in my chest I didn't expect to get from a band that spent 14 years broken up. [6]

Alfred Soto: I hope these guys gave their engineer a bonus: boy, do those arpeggios sparkle. "Uncomfortably Numb" sparkles to muddled effect, for what they recorded is a valentine to anomie disguised as a depiction. [5]

Ian Mathers: I'm not sure what I expected (having not paid much attention back in the day) when I finally got around to hearing all these reunited or still going post-emo acts, but it sure wasn't for it all to be so determinedly, shapelessly... pleasant. I feel like I enjoyed it, but 10 seconds after it stops it's already vanished from memory. [6]

Alex Clifton: There are a lot of lovely quiet moments in this song with the rolling guitar in the background and some gorgeous harmonies between Hayley Williams and Mike Kinsella; this is more of the music I always wanted to hear Williams do. But something about it doesn't punch me the way it should. A song called "Uncomfortably Numb" should at minimum wedge itself under my skin with some hard truths about life I'd rather not acknowledge; if it wants to go harder, it should leave me devastated. But there's a lot to be said for the numbness here; try as I might to feel for these people, I can't conjure the feeling. [5]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

#American Football #Hayley Williams #indie rock #emo #music #music writing #review

1 note · View note

tinyfluffyshark · 6 years

Note

bored eh? the alphabet.

So here’s where I admit that I had the ask thing in a queue and have not been paying attention to my blog for a whiiiile so this was a little ominous out of context since my first reaction was “what did I post oh no…” XD

A. WHY MY LAST RELATIONSHIP ENDED. Massive communication failures x2. I will be as straightforward as humanly possible and have difficulty when other people can’t be equally clear.

B. FAVORITE BAND. If I say BTS someone will kick me so….. I listen to a lot of NateWantsToBattle, and VocaCircus, but not a lot of actual bands. Oh, the Vocaloid artist Kira!!!

C. WHO I LIKE AND WHY I LIKE THEM. I am not currently romantically interested in anyone, but I made two new friends in Psych and I like them because One has this cheerful happy outlook fresh out of high school (so different than mine) and is like what a teenager should be (not a complete damaged wreck), and the Other is really sweet, easy to talk to, and awkward and makes me feel really comfortable.

D. HARDEST THING I’VE EVER BEEN THROUGH. All of the years 2011-2017, with 2016 being the absolute worst. Picking the least personal details, I lost a lot of people, had some personal crises, and everyone I cared about was not having a good time, so the accumulation of stuff.

E. MY BEST FRIEND. @piabird obvs, sweet child please stop drinking so much cola I worry for you. But also one of my friends from high school (bc equally insane and morbid train of thoughts and also weird deep convos that always end in some stupid joke = the best kind of friendship.)

F. MY FAVOURITE MOVIE. I have watched the first Pokemon and Digimon movies more times than justifiable.

G. SEXUAL ORIENTATION. ACE!!!

H. DO I SMOKE/DRINK? Nope, I know people who do though and when they hug me I get headaches (I love them though)

I. HAVE ANY TATTOOS OR PIERCINGS? I WANT a tattoo but probably won’t, I’d never be able to decide on one. I have ten total piercings. Five helix (three on right ear two on the left) and five lobe (opposite distribution) I’d get a lip piercing but I would be killed ouo

J. WHAT I WANT TO BE WHEN I GET OLDER. A HERO!! Or a psychotherapist and some kind of emergency doctor.

K. RELATIONSHIP WITH MY PARENTS. Pretty Good; I love them and they try very hard and are mostly successful, I think, in raising me and my siblings. A little distance on my end but I don’t blame them.

L. ONE OF MY INSECURITIES. I’m really broken up inside my mind, so I feel like no one deserves to have to deal with that? I have a lot of opinions and a lot of controversial opinions, and most of me only makes sense to me, so I’d rather not inconvenience others by having them deal with me. Everything is zero and 100 with me, so I don’t see why people voluntarily subject themselves to my presence.

M. VIRGIN OR NOT? Yup

N. FAVOURITE PLACE TO SHOP AT? Walmart has food, art supplies, yarn, flowers, and video games, why would I go anywhere else?

O. MY EYE COLOUR. BROWN, we messed up our heterozygote lab so I’ll never know if I got my dad’s green hazel gene.

P. WHY I HATE SCHOOL. Sometimes the people stink, sometimes it’s the stress, sometimes I’m just not learning the parts I want to be learning. Sometimes your humanities Gen Ed course coupled with some fiction you were reading triggers an existential crisis. ^_^ it’s a lottery of fun and knowledge!

Q. RELATIONSHIP STATUS AS OF RIGHT NOW. Taken? Okay so I was gonna post about this later, and I know I said I don’t like anyone romantically, but either by this end of this year or beginning of next I’m getting engaged (I’m not being forced, I can and will say no if I feel like it). It is an arranged marriage but not the kind you’re thinking of. If everything works out I’m not getting married for another four years (He wants to graduate and I wanted four years so it worked out for us both). (I’ll be gross and spaz about him later)

R. FAVOURITE SONG AT THE MOMENT. Selfish by Heartbreaker, and Selfish REMIX by Kira!!!! I wish they could take the vocals from the remix and mix them with the music of the original.

S. A RANDOM FACT ABOUT MYSELF. I have a comically small cactus because my friend was trying to find something I wouldn’t pet (“if it smiles back it’s my friend and I can pet it.” “so I get you a cactus with googly eyes and a smile drawn on…” “…would you?”) I want a calico cat named Serenglitchity because I can’t get two named Glitch and Serendipity. And I cut my own hair whenever I get bored so I get some really weird and daring hairstyles accidentally. (Last time was a mullet! My cousin works with poodles and fixed it.)

T. AGE I GET MISTAKEN FOR. 16 (I’m 20)

U. WHERE I WANT TO BE RIGHT NOW. I’m currently in my bed this is a pretty happy place. At school, there’s this café connected to an outdoor study area and I sat in this spot that had me in the sunlight but by the door so cool air would blow over me, and it was nice. Very refreshing.

V. LAST TIME I CRIED. Wednesday. See insecurity and relationship status…

W. CONCERTS I’VE BEEN TO. The free kind at Canada Day. My favourite bands have played nearby and I’ve never gone but one day. One day.

X. WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF (…)? You didn’t specify but I can tell you now, the answer is laugh. I will laugh. No matter what it is, my reaction is always to laugh.

Y. DO YOU WANT TO GO TO COLLEGE. I’m at uni, but definitely, if I need a skill that’s offered at college I’ll go!! I like it here OuO

Z. HOW ARE YOU? RECOVERING FROM AN EXCRUCIATING HEADACHE WHILE STUDYING FOR EXAMS!!!! Feeling pretty good actually. Happy at least, not too stressed despite exams. And this was fun, honestly helped me relax a bit, thank you!

#personal #me #long post #ask #melodywanderer #i dont know how to tag before posting #qwq

3 notes · View notes

spaceorphan18 · 6 years

Text

Glee’s Final Season [Part 4/4]

This part is dedicated to @snarkyhag - thank you for stopping Cooper from stealing a baby ;) <3

For context - This set of episodes takes place five years after the events of season six (effectively season 11??) and ends around the time that the real series finale ends. It is mostly canon compliant – though I did take liberty with a few things, most notably, changing Sam and Mercedes’s story. But for the most part, it should settle in nicely into regular canon – and its intent is that this is my own version of the final season of the show.

Also note: I’m not that great at picking out music for these episodes, so feel free to fill in those blanks yourselves ;)

Previously on Glee:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 AO3 - FULL

///

Episode 11.20: Existential Crises

Rachel’s been nominated for an Tony. She tries to play it cool, but she can’t help but incredibly excited about it -- this is what she’s worked her whole life for. She gets plenty of phone calls - from her mom, from Will Schuester, from people she hasn’t heard from in a long time. She even gets, surprisingly, a short message from Cassie July of all people congratulating her. The day of the Tony’s there’s a party at her and Jesse’s home (thrown by her dads), while she and Jesse go to the actual Tony’s. And, of course, she wins the Tony -- and it’s everything she had hoped it would be.

Later that night, after the party has died down, Rachel and Jesse have a quiet alone moment. Rachel says she’s happy -- happier than she’s ever been. And she really wants to take in the moment. But there’s a strangeness to the feeling. She’s now gotten the one thing she’s always wanted - where does she go from there - now that she doesn’t have a specific goal to achieve. Jesse laughs, and tells her she’ll come up with a goal at some point - but for now they can enjoy having an open road.

With the baby on the way soon, Burt and Carole come to New York to help get things set up. It’s a nice time -- and Burt gives some great fatherly -- which he’s happy to pass down. Kurt’s a little worried about being a dad -- thinking that Blaine’s more a natural at it. But Burt knows he’ll be fine -- because he’s a lot like his mom, and his mom freaked out when they were going to have Kurt - but she managed to do a great job. Burt also shares some stories about how Kurt was a kid - as tells them both to prepare for a possible mini Kurt. (They admit they mixed the sperm together - so it could end up a mini Blaine!)

Blaine meanwhile, as much as he loves Burt and Carole, can’t stop thinking about his own family. He’s told his mom about it - but hasn’t spoken to his dad in the past few years. Kurt encourages him to call his dad - maybe just telling his dad he’ll be grandpa might be a step in the right direction. Blaine picks up the phone, and calls.

Mercedes returns from tour - and Sam is thrilled to see her again. The two have a joyous reunion, but it’s cut short by her producers wanting to see her quickly. She feels like she doesn’t get a chance to slow down, as the album promotion continues, and she’s suddenly wanted in a lot of different directions. Sam’s being super supportive, but it almost feels like she hasn’t returned at all. She wants to tell her producers that she wants a break - but that is when they tell her they want her to do a World Tour.

Artie and Tina have wrapped the movie - and it’s already been entered in a film festival. Artie is super excited about it - and when he gets the news, he and Tina go out to celebrate - which turns out to be more like a date. At the end of the night, Artie kisses Tina, and they’re both surprised by the sudden romantic reprisal.

Brittany is told by her costar Mary Hollaran that Mary is leaving for Australia to go on a spiritual tour of the homeland. (She doesn’t exactly specify what she’s talking about.) But because of this - the webseries can’t continue with just Brittany - and Brittany begins to freak out. That web series is her life, and she doesn’t know what to do without. Santana steps up - and reminds Brittany how much she helped Santana out when Santana felt lost about not having direction in her job. She tells Brittany that they can find a new costar - or maybe this is a chance to find something new for Brittany to do - it’s now up for her to decide.

Episode 11.21: Disco Didn’t Die, It Was Murdered

[An AU-ish Episode]

The episode starts of in reality -- Kurt’s theater is almost finished, and as a way to celebrate, he invites everyone over to the theater so Kurt can host a variation on his murder mystery dinners - a musical murder mystery that they’ll play out for themselves. Everyone’s set for the evening, when Cooper Anderson arrives - in town because he wants to start being a good uncle early, and asks to be a part of the murder mystery -- insisting that he’s the detective. Kurt reluctantly gives in on this.

[As they start the play, the scene shifts to a more AU-ish setting of 40s noir. And plays out as if it were a real murder mystery. All the music is in the style of 40s genre pop covers - or all Post Modern Jukebox songs. I’m pretty sure Cooper would do great singing PMJ’s version of All Star.]

Cooper’s inner monologue narrates that he’s a detective, who comes to this hotel after a long day of drinking and love making and stopping bad guys. (Cooper keeps ad libbing and making up back story - to which Kurt’s fourth wall breaking voice interrupts telling him to stop changing his script.) Anyway, Cooper was just wanting a night off when he walked into the hotel full of seedy characters but he can’t always get nice things.

It’s not long before there’s a first victim -- an up-and-coming actress - Tina. (Tina breaks the fourth wall - claiming she’s upset that she’s the first one dead.) Detective Cooper decides to shut down the lounge so that they can interview everyone to figure out who the murder is.

Jesse and Rachel play an socialite and heiress respectively, flaunting all of their shadily earned money. Santana is the hotel owner - known for having mob connections. Brittany is the barkeep and knows everyone’s secrets. Artie is a mad-scientist willing to share his science discoveries with the highest bidder. Mercedes is a lounge singer, who has aspirations of being famous one day. Sam runs the security for the hotel, and is known to let things slip by. Kurt is a fashion morgal with shady beginnings. And Blaine is the mysterious piano player.

Cooper is tries to find out who did it, and what their motive is, but he’s notoriously bad for playing the game. One by one, the other players are killed off, until there are only three left - Kurt, Blaine, and Rachel. And Cooper suggests wild guess after wild guess as to who is responsible for the murders. At one point, Cooper suggests that Tina was faking her own death and she is the real murder (to which Tina likes - but Kurt says that’s not possible, so he needs to try again.) Cooper only has one guess before the murderer wins so he goes into a long soliloquy (like detectives normal do) determining who did it -- and lands on Rachel. He’s wrong, though, it’s actually Blaine.

But before Blaine can claim victory, and reveal his motives, Rachel goes into labor. The episode shifts back to reality as everyone gets excited about Rachel having the baby.

Episode 11.22: Someone’s Going to the Emergency Room, Someone’s Going to Jail

Rachel is indeed in labor - and when they get to the hospital, they find that it’s not going to be a quick birth. Kurt’s overly anxious - and yells at the staff when he’s at first not allowed to be in the room with Rachel. Once in, he is kind of all over the place -- crowding Rachel, making sure she’s okay. Rachel has to send him out. Mercedes is there to comfort him - and walks him around the hospital, while he talks about how hard it is not to have any control over this part of the process. And then starts worrying about all the possible things that could go wrong. Mercedes calms him down and tells him that he just has to have faith that everything will be alright.

Meanwhile - the hours drag on through the night. Cooper is still around - driving everyone crazy - until he hooks up with one of the nurses - who takes him home. Very early the next morning, Cooper comes back freaking out, holding a dead bird. He doesn’t explain how, but he has somehow managed to kill the nurse’s pet bird. Cooper doesn’t want the woman to know, and enlists Blaine and Sam (Sam who’s excited to have one last BLAM adventure) to buy a new one and replace it without the nurse knowing. Blaine is not in the mood to be dealing with Cooper’s shenanigans, but agrees to help so it’ll stop Cooper from causing any more trouble.

They eventually do fine a replacement bird, and Cooper takes them over to the woman’s apartment. [Cooper can’t just ring - because apparently, the night didn’t go well, and he doesn’t want to confront her.] When she leaves (for the grocery story) they try to get in through the window, but a neighbor calls the cops. Blaine and Sam are arrested, while Cooper was able to sneak away with the new bird. Blaine is freaking out having to go to jail, especially pissed off that it’s keeping him from the birth of his daughter. They call Cooper to get them out, but Cooper is too preoccupied with the bird - and says he’ll get them out when he gets rid of the bird.

Cooper enlists Brittany and Santana. The woman is at home again - and Santana pretends to be a salesman of beauty products while Brittany replaces the bird. Once it’s done, they get Blaine and Sam out of jail. Sam says it’s a good thing they’re going to a hospital because Blaine is probably going to murder Cooper.

Meanwhile, Tina and Artie, needing something to do, find places in the hospital to hook up - since they just got back together. They end up in a janitor’s closet, but their fooling around knocks down a bucket onto Artie’s head - and they have to get to the emergency room, where Artie finds out he has a concussion.

Rachel eventually has the baby, and Kurt and Blaine marvel at becoming dads. They name her Katharine Elizabeth Hummel-Anderson, and everyone loves her at first sight.

Episode 11.23: Everything’s Great

A week later - and Rachel is slowly beginning to feel like herself again. Jesse asks her if she’s plans on heading back to Jane Austen Sings! When she’s fully recovered - but Rachel isn’t sure she wants to. The girl who took her place is doing great, and Rachel thinks she might be ready for something new. Jesse hopes so - because he’s just had a new opportunity come his way - producing and directing a play over in London. Rachel has to think about it - New York has really become her home, but eventually tells Jesse that she’s ready to venture out to new things - just like she had all those years ago when she left Ohio for New York.

Burt and Carole, who’ve been staying with Kurt and Blaine, finally decide to leave. For the first time, the new parents are fully alone with their daughter, and the full realization that they are parents kind of hits them hard. Making things difficult is that Katie doesn’t want to sleep - and they begin attempting everything, from Kurt reading from his countless parenting books, to Blaine calling up the pediatrician. And on top of that - they’re trying to balance work related that aren’t stopping because they now have a child. They have a WTF are we doing moment - as they wonder if they can ever figure it out but eventually, they’re able to sing Katie to sleep, and joke that Katie was just testing them as parents. They realize they’re gonna spend a lot of time being tired - but when they look at her, they know she’s worth it.

Mercedes is being pressured into making a decision about the World Tour. She sits down with Sam, where they talk out their options. She doesn’t want to leave Sam alone for another four months, but Sam says he’s willing to come with her. Mercedes feels bad - and says she doesn’t want to keep compromising his life for her dreams. Sam says it’s his dream to be with her. Mercedes, touched, says he can come on the World Tour and that afterward maybe they can make their permanent home their place upstate - that way when Mercedes is not on tour, she can have a seclusive recording studio in the country, so Sam can feel at home, too, and so they can have a nice place to raise their kids.

Artie and Tina go to the film festival. The film doesn’t win any awards, but Artie is offered an assistant director position on a major film - which will shoot in Vancouver. Tina says she wants to go with him. Artie tells her he’s not going to let her follow him just because they’re together again. Tina tells him it’s not for him -- that she’s come to some realizations that she hates her job, and maybe she isn’t supposed to be a performer -- so she’s going to have him teach her everything he knows about filmmaking, and she’s going to try to do things behind the scenes now.

Brittany says they should start interviewing people to be her new cohost, so Santana sets up auditions. No one, however, is clicking with Brittany - and Brittany fears it might be the end of her show. Mary Hollaran comes back from Australia to visit - and offers to use her connections with Hollywood to find Brittany a new cohost. What ends up happening, however, is that they sell the show to a network, which develops a TV show out of the premise, which stars Brittany. Santana is fully on board, as there will be plenty of rich people who will need her services.

Episode 11.24: Mr. Schuester of Ohio

Will Schuester finally getting the expansion to his school, invites everyone back to Ohio for the opening of the new school. Everyone comes back into town - even some old faces they haven’t seen in a long time.

While they’re in Ohio, Kurt and Blaine take their daughter to see the newly rebuilt Dalton Academy - which is run by their old friend Trent. Brittany and Santana visit Santana’s grandmother and Brittany’s parents. Mercedes and Sam hang out with Will, Emma, and their kids. Artie and Tina visit Coach Beiste. Rachel and Jesse take a trip to Finn’s grave.

After the celebration of the opening of the new school, most of them head out for drinks, where they reminisce about old times, talk about thing that have never come up in the past ten years, reveal secrets, and generally catch up with people they haven’t spoken to in a long time. (Just where has Matt been all these years?!?) It’s a good night for reflection.

Before they head out and go their own separate ways, Will asks them to do one final performance - to which they all happily agree to do.

Episode 11.25: The Constant

Present Day: Artie is getting ready to go to Canada -- excited that he’ll be working on a major film (which is a major MCU film, btw). He asks Tina if she’s sure she wants to go with him. She’s sure. They head to Tina’s work, where she quits her job, stating that she’s tired of playing it safe, and she’s gonna try to make something of herself. Artie says he’s proud of her, and they share a kiss.

Flash Forward: Both Artie and Tina are dressed up for an awards show. At first it seems as though Artie might be winning award, since they are at a director’s award banquet, but it’s really Tina who’s been nominated, and she wins best director of a short film of her own making and her first real big success. Everyone clams for Tina, and she’s never been so proud of herself.

Present Day: Sam and Mercedes are preparing for Mercedes’s world tour. Sam almost seems more excited than Mercedes does, and has packed at least a dozen different language phrase books. Mercedes tells him as great as it is that he’s excited, she’s looking forward to coming home and starting a family with him. They sell their home in NYC, which make the move feel more permanent.

Flash Forward: Mercedes is working on her new album from her home studio in the country. You can see multiple Grammys on a case in the background. Mercedes takes a break and leans against the doorframe leading outside to watch Sam play football with their three boys. She couldn’t be happier.

Present Day: Brittany and Santana are packing a car for their road trip out west. The two share a moment of excitement as they hit the road, and arrive in LA ready to take it on.

Flash Forward: Santana’s on the set of Brittany’s TV show, which is now an acclaimed hit, watching proudly was Brittany works. Santana’s phone is going off -- one of her many clients is having a melt down, but she takes a moment to just enjoy watching her wife, before dealing with more craziness (which she loves).

Present Day: Kurt and Blaine are in their apartment. Kurt’s working on a new design for his fashion line, as well as talking to Elliott on the phone about possible first shows to go in the theater, while Blaine is holding Katie, and trying out melodies on the piano for a new musical. Their lives are hectic, but as the evening settles in, and they get to be a small family, they enjoy their life.

Flash Forward: Kurt and Blaine are preparing for a one-night only revival of Trapped in an Elevator: A Love Story, which stars themselves - as themselves, which they’re performing for charity. Included in the audience are Burt, Carole, Kurt and Blaine’s two daughters, Cooper, and both of Blaine’s parents. They go out celebrate afterwards.

Present Day: Rachel and Jesse shut out the lights in their apartment for a final time - and take a plane to London, a place that feels foreign to her as she arrives. She takes it all in, though,

Flash Forward: In a full circle moment - Rachel is finishing playing Fanny in the West End’s production of Funny Girl. She is met afterwards by Jesse and their young son -- and

Flashback (a week or so earlier): The group is having a final dinner at Kurt and Blaine’s to celebrate everyone going off onto new adventures. It’s a fun filled evening, though as it ending, Artie points out this might be the last time they will all ever be in the same room. Mercedes doesn’t think that’ll be true, but it’s a bittersweet realization nonetheless. Rachel brings it around - stating that even if they all go in different (new, haha) directions they’ll always have one constant - the music, which will always bring back the memories. As the show closes out - Rachel starts them off in one final song -- an acoustic version of Don’t Stop Believin’.

///

~END SERIES~

#s.o. writes things #glee's final season #okay - I felt a little something finishing this up #I think s11 is my favorite #lol #I'll get this up onto AO3

94 notes · View notes

defenestrata · 6 years

Note

Kisha + ykw questions 👀

why is this a daily routine. when will the government stop your sinful hands from sending me these ksksksksksksk

QUESTIONS FOR YOUR OCs

What’s the maximum amount of time your character can sit still with nothing to do?

fairly long, maybe even forty-five minutes. she’s a meditative person who can probably keep herself entertained trying to recall things like song lyrics.

How easy is it for your character to laugh?

kisha has almost never laughed out loud in a solid holler more than twice in her life. But getting a chuckle out of her isn’t that hard. surprisingly, short zingers, puns and slapstick are what truly get her.

How do they put themselves to bed at night (reading, singing, thinking?)

reading the medical journals that she should be reading for work. But those things can knock you out so goddamn quick, it’s amazing. either that, or rambling in her journals about nothing in particular.

How easy is it to earn their trust?

difficult. kisha is a private person who absolutely hates confiding in others. moreover, because she’s so professional and detached by nature, she doesn’t speak to others much about herself. therefore, to hear her deepest thoughts and secrets is really a privilege.

How easy is it to earn their mistrust?

easy. do one thing that she doesn’t expect from you and her trust in you is gone forever, and you are wiped out from her psyche. good thing is that she may entertain an explanation, but you’ll have to be ready with a good excuse.

Do they consider laws flexible, or immovable?

hey, she wants a carefree, healthy life without getting into trouble from the police. besides, laws are absolutely necessary to keep order. if you don’t like law, good, you likely live in a democracy, and can protest in a healthy manner. otherwise, don’t break the law unless you’re fine with everyone breaking the law.

What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

everything to do with family. media remotely related to siblings will make her miss her own baby sister. a lot of things make her miss the days when she didn’t have to do taxes by herself. also, shitty fast food triggers memory of home cooking. nostalgia is not a good feeling. it makes her mournful and mopey.

What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child?

child kisha was very shy, but also vaguely a prick. she had to be told consistently to be a little more outgoing and involved in school activities. she didn’t really take to sing-alongs and clay-modelling. also, for a long time, she had a mildly snobbish attitude, and didn’t make friends easily. just had to be softened around the edges a bit, be a little more considerate and flexible and enthusiastic.

Do they swear? Do they remember their first swear word?

well, back at home, she never did. now, in london, the habit is sort of growing on her. her first swear word was probably something along the lines of shit, and it probably made her super guilty when she did say it.

What lie do they most frequently remember telling? Does it haunt them?

kisha doesn’t lie. she doesn’t like to. but in her line of work, she’s also relatively inexperienced with delivering hard truths to her patients (she’s a physical therapist). the worst lie she’s ever told in that context was to an old patient of hers, who was terrified of surgery, insisting that she wouldn’t need it. the comfort slipped out of her without much meaning. the patient got better, yes, but she feels terrible about it regardless.

How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

she has no pride about asking. especially given that even the slightest gap in her knowledge leads to her having immense anxiety.

How do they deal with an itch found in a place they can’t quite reach?

suffer. run to the nearest bathroom as soon as she can to get at it with some kind of string of toiler paper.

What colour do they think they look best in? Do they actually look best in that colour?

kisha likes to keep it simple and elegant, so she wears a lot of white and beige, without getting too wild with it. it’s a shame, because she looks really good in blues and greens.

What animal do they fear most?

kisha fucking hates anything that flies. birds, bats, insects, you goddamn name it. just, doesn’t trust anything that flies.

How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?

you bet that she will repeat a sentence in her head three times before she actually says it because she’s that scared of looking silly or incompetent. her style of speech is usually curt, eloquent, and to the point, without a lot of metaphor.

What makes their stomach turn?

the idea that she’s going nowhere. that her career doesn’t really contribute anything meaningful to people’s lives other than the fact that she’s helping just one or two individuals. in her, there’s a selfish desire to do something remarkable, give herself some purpose. Right now, she feels a little lost, losing her life in-between each workweek.

Are they easily embarrassed?

by others? no. but if she does something herself that’s in any way even slightly a little awkward she’s going to shrivel up and die inside.

What embarrasses them?

making mistakes, mostly. making factual inaccuracies. being put on the spot and interviewed about her personal life. talking about herself in general, to be quite honest. she doesn’t have a very clear picture of the kind of person she is. she cries if she has to submit statements of purpose to anywhere.

What is their favorite number?

maybe — 12? a pleasant enough number. It’s a multiple of one, two, three and four. Very aesthetic.

If they were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic or familial love, how would they do so?

oof, you’re not asking the best candidate to answer. kisha would state that platonic love is more or less omnipresent in all positive relationships. platonic love for blood relations is the same as familial love, and romantic love means a best friend that you’re willing to marry and kiss and do all that sort of romantic stuff with. thinking about this would give her a headache.

Why do they get up in the morning?

bills don’t pay themselves. and, you know, the chance to help people yada yada yada. but the bills first. god, rent is expensive.

How does jealousy manifest itself in them (they become possessive, they become aloof, etc)?

kisha has the capacity to be remarkably cold and controlling if she needs to be. she can be immensely vitriolic. if she’s jealous, which, incidentally, isn’t a very common phenomenon, she will become hypersensitive to the actions of people around her and majorly possessive of the object of affection, and become aggressive.

How does envy manifest itself in them (they take what they want, they become resentful, etc)?

she takes a completely different approach to envy. genuine envy just makes her upset and causes her to have 11pm existential crises with silent and soft tears streaming down her cheeks about how there’s so much that she wants and will never have, like a stable, anxiety free life.

Is sex something that they’re comfortable speaking about? To whom?

she’s pretty meh about sex, to be honest. she isn’t especially prudish but also not especially liberal on the subject. if she can be said to have any opinion at all, she thinks sex is a little overhyped in media.

What are their thoughts on marriage?

marriage is cool, but would be massively inconvenient given her current financial situation. so no thanks. besides, ya girl is way too busy to even date (trust me, she’s tried) so there’s no way wedding bells are ringing anytime soon.

What is their preferred mode of transportation?

bus. there’s a bus stop right outside her apartment block, aka god is real, and it’s a convenient way of getting most places — without being too packed with people on weekday mornings. as long as she starts early, she usually gets to work on time.

What causes them to feel dread?

the idea that she’s not really getting anywhere. the poor girl is stuck in a 24/7 existential crisis please save her. just, she wants so much more meaning from her life, but she isn’t able to really implement anything to change her life. she’s been stuck in a crap apartment for almost all of her adult life with no significant opportunities coming her way.

Would they prefer a lie over an unpleasant truth?

absolutely not. dealing with the truth is critical to growing up. so she’d like to give it as it is in theory. in practice she may just buckle once or twice, but she dislikes lying greatly, and isn’t even a good liar.

Do they usually live up to their own ideals?

hahahahahaha. not really. kisha isn’t even sure of what her ideal is, to be honest, she just knows that she’s got a pretty long way to go to get there. this existence of bill to bill doesn’t cut it.

Who do they most regret meeting?

lowkey? her roommate, melanie. if she didn’t contribute half of the rent, kisha would’ve booted her out three years ago. she’s almost never home at night, doesn’t help in cleaning up and/or cooking, and fawns over her boyfriend all the time. of course, her leaving would cause more problems than her staying, but what do you do. good thing she leaves later in the plot :) she also lowkey regrets meeting erich because let’s be honest she could have had better things to do than ward off an organised crime unit.

Who are they the most glad to have met?

jamie. at first, she was the biggest thorn in kisha’s side, just showing up at her workplace one fine day and asking for mentorship. kisha had agreed pretty much instantly, out of general social pressures, but truly wanted her to leave in a week. soon, jamie became important to her — a massive help in warding off social anxiety and general dread.

Do they have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke?

she has stories about her old school because it was lowkey pretty wild with its traditions and stuff, but she never really participated in them as much. it doesn’t diminish the value of the stories in any way.

Could they be considered lazy?

never. no. if she isn’t doing something meaningful one every six hours she’d die of boredom and nervousness.

How hard is it for them to shake a sense of guilt?

impossible. kisha is probably the most moral character I have, she’s really committed to doing what she believes is the right thing, and doesn’t believe that the end justifies the means. therefore, anything she does that conflicts with her moral compass will make her guilty for a super duper long time.

How do they treat the things their friends come to them excited about? Are they supportive?

yes, if she’s genuinely excited. fake it if she’s not, which she’s good at. the trouble is that she’s also relatively quick to see problems in people’s plans and ideas — but she wouldn’t dare say them out loud; it’s just gonna fester in her head for the rest of eternity. on the surface, she’ll support them, and if it backfires later she will stay mournful and silent.

Do they actively seek romance, or do they wait for it to fall into their lap?

listen, a part of kisha is hoping so goddamn hard for a nice meet-cute on the subway or at work and everything to just fall into place and happen. then she can be happily married and in a stable job. but actually talking to cute people ?? skull emoji.

Do they have a system for remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order (like anagrams, putting things to melodies, etc)?

she just makes notes on her phone. it’s the twenty-first century, bud.

What memory do they revisit the most often?

christmas time memories, always. chelmsford would always be absolutely lit up, and there would be carollers, snow, her sister would be home, she’d be home, they’d have a great dinner, she’d get her sister all the presents she wanted from london. every year it gets better and better. she also has memories of certain patients that were really lovely.

How easy is it for them to ignore flaws in other people?

difficult. she can find flaws in anything and everything. but she is level-headed enough (most of the time) to acknowledge a person as someone despite their flaws. someone valuable to her. however, when these glaring flaws come into play in interaction, she will take note of them.

How sensitive are they to their own flaws?

oh, she thinks she’s super flawed. she’s not bold enough, risk-taking enough, charming enough, warm enough, fun enough, loving enough, smart enough. and she’s especially sensitive about these flaws if pointed out. her poor ass tries so hard to be unemotional but to be honest she’ll cry at the tip of a hat if you say the right thing.

How do they feel about children?

overrated germ sacks. there, she said it. dealing with kids gives her a plain old headache, and while she’d never ever hurt a child or even do anything to them that’s not an expression of care — she just doesn’t like kids that much. even her own baby sister really took a lot out of her.

How badly do they want to reach their end goal?

what is a goal. what is reaching. is anything real. i mean okay to be real she would not risk her stability and health to pursue her goals, which is probably why she hasn’t achieved very many of them at all.

If someone asked them to explain their sexuality, how would they do so?

she’d just say she’s straight. aside from the fact that she’s never had a crush in her life.

QUESTIONS FOR CREATORS

A) Why are you excited about this character?

she provides a kind of one sane man archetype to the rest of the plot, so in that way her dynamic in the larger setting is going to be fun. also, she has major chardev ahead of her.

B) What inspired you to create them?

well, the need for a one sane man. also erich needed a therapist. no particular reason, i just wanted to write a determined, hardworking professional type of woman.

C) Did you have trouble figuring out where they fit in their own story?

nope, she fits in rather smoothly. i love her ; she’s my least problematic oc.

D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?

i think she might be the only oc who’s appearance hasn’t changed much at all. she was a little shorter when she started i think, now she’s the tallest of all my ocs in this story.

E) Are they someone you would get along with? Would they get along with you?

we’d be very good friends. in my opinion, she’s a pretty darn valid person to have on your side. smart, caring to a degree without being too emotional. just, a cutie.

F) What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

pride. she’s gonna do such amazing things in her life, and in the story. god bless.

G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most?

she’s so self-doubting and passive for the first half or so of the story. it’s her character so i can’t really fault her for not having a bigger role in the first bit but uggh she’s got potential she just runs away from anything risky.

H) What trait do you admire most?

she’s the reasonable one. the person that sees through almost all of the bullshit and mind games the protags play with each other. the people on her team would be straight up be dead if not for her. also she’s just a cutie please.

I) Do you prefer to keep them in their canon universe?

you know what i’m gonna say.

J) Did you have to manipulate or exclude canon factors to allow them to create their character?

mostly related to the roommate. her roommate sort of shapes her initial dislike for jamie in a way too. also i had to switch up a coupla timelines to make her story possible.

#realmzenith #oc talk.

5 notes · View notes

questionable-arts · 3 years

Text

I’m going to post pictures of all the characters I have made so far. I’m also going to write the characters bios for them I’m going to put in the game. The descriptions are told from Rosemary’s perspective, since she is the character you would play as. Yes I got the character bio idea from Danganronpa Ultra Despair Girls no you can’t stop me. I will edit this when I draw more characters and add them. Long post incoming.

Name: Oliver (might change it later I dunno)

Likes: insects, painting and seashells Dislikes: mud, hot weather and bragging

Oliver serves as the mage and stat booster of his team, but he can’t do much damage on his own, or so I was told. Thanks to a deal he made with some kind of evil entity or something, he and his friend Silas gained some very lethal powers. Oliver can form huge crystals from the ground, but it seems like he isn’t very good at it yet. His hands get numb after a long time and he can’t make any more, so just try not to get impaled and when he’s vulnerable, a punch to the face or two should be enough. He has a very carefree attitude, and even if you do punch him in the face he will probably still be nice to you. He cares about his friends more than anything, but he does have some self esteem issues. He also makes most of the strategies for his friends.

Name: Silas

Likes: rain, novels and writing Dislikes: loud noises, horror stories and mosquitoes

Try to avoid fighting him, because if you don’t, you’ll be lucky to end up with just a few cuts, burns and nightmares after. He used to be the medic of his group, who would mainly use magic to make sure that him and his teammates wouldn’t get injured. He still had a dagger in case he had to do his own fighting, but otherwise he stuck to his role. One day Oliver tried making a deal with a demon that would give him powerful magic, so he could impress the team leader, Leon. Silas caught him making the deal, and wanted to stop being useless in most fights, so he sacrificed his own eye, giving the both of them new powers. He can now open voids to another dimension, with a horrific monster sealed inside. The creature can’t escape, but it can still attack you and grab you with it’s giant black tentacles. It attacks anything blindly except for Silas, I guess they’re friends or something. If you get touched by it at all, it might infect you with a virus that spreads black gooey stuff on your skin that burns. Wash it off as soon as you can and you should be okay. Silas himself is soft spoken and gentle, and he seems like a nice, caring dude, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little scared of him. He’s definitely the most responsible and mature of his team, kind of like a big brother to the other two.

Name: Leon

Likes: Fights, sweet things and comic books. Dislikes: Losing, fishing and vegetables

Leon is the leader of his team consisting of himself Silas and Oliver. Despite being a just a trio of kids who ran away from home to pursue a life of crime, thanks to Leon’s leadership they are organized and tough to beat. He may be pretty cocky and impulsive, but he can be pretty clever. So he doesn’t raise any suspicion, instead of using a sword or an axe he sharpened the edge of an electric guitar he found and uses that as his weapon instead. It is just as sharp so keep that in mind. Also, don’t steal or break his sunglasses, because they are his most prized possession and he will probably cry. He is a hopeless romantic, and flirts with almost everyone around him.

Name: Vivian

Likes: Myths, photography and abstract art Dislikes: Pests, young children and neon colors

Vivian seems very cold on the outside, but she is a little nicer on the inside. She doesn’t talk much and doesn’t seem to be very sociable. I think she likes me, though. Maybe. Her parents have a shop for potions and stuff. They leave Vivian home alone for days on end sometimes to get ingredients. I wish my parents trusted me that much. Well, maybe Vivian wasn’t able to eat whole jars of peanut butter and do nothing but play video games all day long. I wonder if maybe there’s some way I could show her all the fun stuff people could do before the world ended. Anyway, she collects stuff from before the apocalypse happened, and seems to like hearing me talk about them. She also can make plants grow and control them. That’s all I really know about her though.

Name: Rosemary

Likes: House plants, video games, and fiction Dislikes: Homework, reality, and heavy metal

Oh wait, this one’s about me. Should I make this in the third person like the other ones or would that be weird? Uh, whatever. I have fire powers! I can manipulate it, and stuff. I also can’t die ever. After I realized that, I had a few existential crises and sealed myself in a cave because I didn’t want to go insane or get really bored. But then Vivian woke me up and now we’re trying to figure out why the world ended, but I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t mostly doing it because I like fights and I have a crush on her. I’m questioning whether I’m satisfied out here, though. Sure, I get to be in a place with magic and spells and adventure, but all the fun things are all gone, most people are dead and all my favorite games and songs have all been long forgotten, and I can never hear or see them again. Everything I care about is just a bunch of burning memories. In the end, maybe I can just make the best of this, make a few friends, have little fun, and when I watch em all die again I can just go back into the cave. This really sounds shitty when I put it like that, huh?

Name: Lance

Likes: fall, birds, and meeting new people Dislikes: junkyards, centipedes, and insults

Lance is a robot that was built for helping his creator, who was a apparently a famous roboticist. He was the first and only robot to be able to think and have it’s own personality. Sadly after he was not needed anymore he was almost destroyed by his own father. Luckily, Lance was able to escape right before he was going to be killed. He loves talking to people and learning new things about them. He is very selfless and brave, but also very sensitive and gullible. He has a habit of taking things too seriously. He is on our side, so I don’t really need to write down how to beat him up, but I will anyway. He is fast and will not get tired unless it’s night time, since he runs on solar energy. He mainly uses the blades on his arms to attack, but he also can shoot a laser from his power core. It is very dangerous, and he doesn’t use it unless he is going to die. It kills almost anything, so if you’re looking to kill him and you see his core glowing, get ready to run for your life.

0 notes

rinovarka · 7 years

Text

questions questions game:

rules are: if you get tagged you gotta say the rules, answer the questions, create your own questions (11) and tag 11 others so the cycle can continue. so I will tag people, but only answer if ya want!!

so the questions by @epoint25…

1. favorite scene from any movie

…I am racking my brains to remember BEST EVER SCENE but I cant?? Im at a loss??? Maybe the end scene in Dreamwork’s “Home” where Oh gives the “stone” to the Gorg, and explains why the Gorg wanted it so much?? I also love the scene in El Libro de la Vida where Manuel has to deal with the giant skeletal bull…any Cinderella movie the scene where Cinderella is able to leave her abusive fam forever…

Favorite scene in any text story (as I feel these more deeper) are

a)IDW Trypticon in Transformers:Salvation, his end…I only read this is TFWiki (as I JUST read the entire TFwiki on My Son just now) and…Trypticon across all Transformers series has been created for hate and destruction and has never had a say in his like…and the fact that he gets the opportunity to be free and…I cried….

b)scene in the book called “The Rapture Effect” where….basically, the AI, called “Core” in the story is trying to stop a war between an alien group and humanity, and eventually just…has an emotional breakdown and feels so bad about mistakes they made and feels alone and stressed, so two main protagonist humans help them out…and one of the humans have the same kind of insecurities and???? Its an amazing book okay, a recommended read, (though it has some rly drawn out tension and 0/10 female characterization,0/10 use of the diverseness of characters, needs a rewrite bc it has so much potential)

c)How to Train Your Dragon book series, not just a scene but…the whole arc with Furious, and Hiccup growing…aaaaa!!! (please read the series)

2. movie or tv show sequels or spin-offs that you think were a mistake.

…I am also at a loss again??? Can’t think of one rn sorry???

3. do you have siblings, if so do you get along with them?

I have an older sister and brother, I have an ok relationship with them, not as close as I suppose people “normally” have tho…

4. are you a city slicker or a farmboy (boy in this case being nongender specific)?

I live in the suburbs BUT if I had to choose…and its a close call…farm! I love to garden, ( I grew okra this summer, and am trying to grow kale, salad, and swiss chard!), and love the countryside nature. I love city too tho….

5. what was the best grade for you? elementary? high school? College?

Definitely college. In each grade, I ALWAYS had some existential crisis, especially in college, and social anxiety! BUT…I can deal with those crises better than I can with school drama and social circles. In college, aint nobody care about what you do! So, my last two years in high school, I WAS in college at the same time, and hOO boy I would make a storytime about senior year problems!

6. what’s your comfort video game? what do you play to relax?

…I don’t play video games, sorry!

7. who is your favorite actor, and what did you first see them in?

…I don’t particularly care for movies or celebrities tbh XD

8. which do you like more: marvel, dc, dark horse, other?

…dont murder me but I do not like either at all XD. I can not care for the superhero genre if my life depended on it! THOUGH, @eoscomic, @heartstoppercomic , @rejectedprincesses, and @iguanamouth sometimes makes cute comics that can be…weird? in a good way??

9. are you a fan of the transformers? if yes who’s your fav? if not, what is your fav robot\alien tv show-movie-comic-what have you?

…mmmm I have mixed feelings about Transformers…basically, I like certain concepts and characters in various series and know what generally happens in a good amount of continuities, but in no way would I sit down and read/watch a whole series…and I find it hard to talk to people in fandom and feel like people don’t like what I think, so I guess I am not a fan?? Maybe?? pseudofan??

Favorite characters….you cant make me choose just one…Trypticon, Metroplex, Astrotrain, Sunstorm, Skyfire, Starscream, Soundwave, Hound, Huffer, Tracks, Cosmos, Omega Supreme, Kappa Supreme…many I cant think on top of my head aaaa!!!

If you like having your feels ripped out of your limbic system, and sentient robots, watch Brave Police J Deckerd.

10. favorite yankee candle scent\flavor

I have SEEN Yankee Candles before, but I don’t buy candles. My sister buys Bath and Body Work Candles, and I think they smell good!! Dont remember the smells I like, though I remember there was a tomato vine scented candle and it smelled like hell…

11. can you cook? what can you cook? if you can’t cook what food do you like above all else?

I love cooking!! I am taking a culinary class next semester!! I CAN cook, but am not the best admittedly…I am allergic to dairy, egg, and abstain from high fat and pork…I wish I could bake decadent vegan desserts but ??? how??? (I settle for Cinnaholic cinnamon rolls and other rare vegan delectables…)

I like making Tinola (chicken soup with ginger, chayote squash…I add ripe papaya to it) and garbanzo bean coconut curry! If I can’t cook, I’d love to get chicken from Thai BBQ, sushi/poke bowl, or El Pollo Loco. Due to nostalgia, my top favorite food of all time is Beef Gyudon from Yoshinoya, which is sadly not in my state!

Questions for yall!

1) Nostalgic food?

2)What are two seemingly different YouTubers/artists/etc do you like??

3) Side dish: rice, pasta, bread, or potato??

4) 2d animation or 3d animation??

5) Song that is currently stuck in your head/on repeat right now?

6) What is one relatively unknown piece of media/story that you wished others would know about?

7) Steampunk or cyberpunk? (other punk?)

8) Are you inclined to science/math or social sciences/art/humanities?

9) Space or the ocean?

10) Cartoony art style or detail art style?

11) Giant robot friend or small robot friend?

@epoint25 @redacted-metallum @roboops @scotsdragon @bloodsweatandpreciousmetals @astro-femme @freeflighttemeraire @zerodestiny169 @phasesixes @brokeneisenglas @tracks-and-raoul

#question game #tag me ye

7 notes · View notes

abbynormaled · 4 years

Text

The existential crises of difference, privilege, and forks

My wife and I visited Thailand many years ago, shortly after we got married. Her parents lived there, part of the U.S. Embassy staff, and so we were able to stay for 3 weeks and see far more of the country than most.

Bangkok was amazing: so full of people, and smells, and new food, and elephants. It was fabulous. Everything a young person might want in their first trip out of the country.

After a long day at Chatuchak, Bangkok’s enormous weekend market, we were overwhelmed by it all. We were exhausted, not just physically, but psychically. We stopped on the way back to eat and recharge.

At a KFC.

Now, I’m not one to be timid in eating, especially when I get a chance to travel. But we had had too much by that point. Our system couldn’t take any more novelty. KFC was exactly what we needed — a refreshing taste of the familiar — and by the time we were done savoring the Colonel’s 7 herbs & spices, we had the internal wherewithal to continue on exploring and enjoying the rest of the day

This is the fork theory of difference, which is the opposite of having privilege.

You may already be familiar with Spoon Theory: the idea that people with chronic illnesses have a finite amount of energy to do the daily things. Sure, everyone has a finite amount of energy, but for people suffering from chronic pain, mental distress, or physiologically-induced fatigue, it’s so much more.

Even simple acts, such as folding the laundry, take up extra effort, or spoons. Had to go grocery shopping in person? That’s 2 spoons.

Part of the value of this metaphor is that (too often) a friend of the person will try to encourage them to get out, to do something. “It’s just one evening of drinks.” What the friend doesn’t know is how many spoons that person already expended during the day on just ordinary things.

It’s helpful for most people, those who don’t have to deal with these very literal pains and stressors, to understand how exhausting it is just being.

Those of us who don’t experience the pain and fatigue of chronic illness don’t worry about spending spoons on the little things in the same way.

We get to keep that energy and use it for other things in our lives: social interactions, moving ahead in our career, financial planning, helping kids with homework, etc.

Having extra resources, like physical and psychic energy, to expend on moving forward and getting ahead is (in at least one respect) the essence of privilege.

Autism and exhaustion

My experience with not having enough energy to use the laundromat had me thinking about the ways in which a version of the spoon theory could help me (and others) understand the small but accretative energy costs that come with being autistic in an NT world (especially when one works to “fit in” as is the case in many undiagnosed autistic women and girls).

I feel it is important to point out that autism is not a disease or disability in itself — if that assertion confuses you, please Google neurodiversity.

Let me share a passage from my novel-in-progress about what it feels like to be autistic:

- - - - - -

When they think about an autistic person, most NT’s (that’s neurotypicals, or non-autistics) think about people who get over-stimulated easily, who don’t like to be touched, and who say socially inappropriate things without realizing it. And that is true for a lot of people on the spectrum. But it is a spectrum, and just like the light spectrum there are all different hues of autism spectrum (AS) and some are more difficult to perceive than others.

Think of it this way: the “typical” autistic person (as portrayed in the media) generally has trouble understanding social norms and behaviors (like unspoken rules, nonverbal communication, and similar). Those social interactions might be like hearing someone sing a song in a foreign language: you can participate in the singing, but you’re not really sure what’s going on.

For me, and I’m what they used to call an Aspie (short for Asperger’s), it’s not nearly that severe. It’s more like hearing a song in your language but the music is really loud or distorted or it’s Bob Dylan and you can’t make out all the words. You get the basic idea of what’s going on in the song most of the time from other context clues (like the tempo and whatnot), but the specific details can be lost on you. And sometimes those context clues aren’t accurate, and you end up looking like a fool because you thought “Gangster’s Paradise” was an inspirational song.

I’ve learned over the years to do the equivalent of looking the lyrics up on the Internet, which is to say that I’ve learned to act neurotypical very well.

In fact, most people have no idea I’m not an NT. The few people I’ve told about my autism are surprised (some even wanted to argue that I don’t act autistic enough to qualify). The truth is that I’m very smart, I have a great imagination and strong language skills, and I enjoy having fun like the next person. Yes, I prefer quieter activities (loud ones are tolerable, but wear me out). Yes, I sometimes don’t behave as expected in stressful or unusual situations. But I do enjoy being touched for the most part — except when someone attractive that I’m not comfortable around yet touches me, in which case I enjoy the physical part of it but get stressed out about how I’m supposed to react.

So, being on the spectrum doesn’t hurt or anything, but it is stressful and tiring from all the work you have to do to fit in. It’s as though every encounter with another person is a puzzle: you can enjoy puzzles, but having to do them ALL THE TIME gets exhausting. It does help when you have the same kinds of interactions again and again, because you know the pattern.

- - - - - -

Solving the puzzle that is neurotypical social interactions over and over and over again leads to emotional and physical exhaustion: autism fatigue.

From Neurology Advisor:

Although compensating for their difficulties may help people with ASD connect with others, get jobs, and successfully navigate social situations, accumulating research suggests it can also lead to exhaustion, burnout, anxiety, and depression.

Forks

Forks are a way to account for the amount of social energy an autistic person has to expend throughout the day. As I mentioned at the outset, this really works the same way as spoons, but I thought another utensil was appropriate because:

Spoons are about physical energy. Forks are about psychic energy.

The spoon theory is currently used to describe the difficulty in dealing with disabilities (and I don’t want to appropriate), and

Many autistic people may co-present with a disability, making it difficult for them to cope, as they juggle both spoons and forks.

The basic concept is this: an autistic person has a finite amount of energy (emotional, psychic, energetic, whatever) at the start of a day for working out the social puzzles. Even with activities they love and enjoy, it takes energy.

Social interactions take effort.

The energy a person has is their number of “forks.” There’s only a certain number of them to start with, and different interactions use up different numbers of forks.

Greeting coworkers you’re familiar with at a job you’re used to may only use 1 fork.

Returning an item at the store takes several forks.

Networking events where lots of people are hugging (but not everyone) will probably use up all your forks.

Even activities that you love use up forks. I am enthusiastically absorbed by improv: I love to perform it, to practice it, to teach it, to coach it. But it uses forks. Longer performances use more forks, and classes even more still. A beginner class, which is one of my favorite things in the world, will wipe me flat out.

Once your forks are gone, your ability to “do people things” drops to zero. It’s not that, given an extreme need an autistic person can’t manage to say hello, but it does require pretty significant draw of willpower.

When you’re low on forks, even using the laundromat can be too much.

The forks will come back, with time and an environment where the autistic person can recharge, but in the meantime it’s vital to be aware that we’re not going to act “normally” most likely.

Some of my personal characteristics that manifest when I’m out of forks include:

a flat affect: no emotion in my voice or face

Silence in a conversation

Becoming easily distracted by random tangents from a conversation (this is my normal brain behavior, and it takes effort for me to follow conversations linearly)

Easily annoyed or put out when I haven’t communicated clearly.

Because autistic people engage in non-normative social behavior — especially when they’re out of forks — it’s easy to classify autism as a disability.

It’s not a disability. It’s a lack of privilege from being outside the cultural expectation that people think and behave IN THIS WAY, and not any other.

It’s the conflict between neurotypical and autistic expectations of normative behavior that causes much of the “dysfunction.” To be sure, there are many people further along the spectrum who face additional hurdles and difficulties, but it’s important to understand that the root issue is this friction between what’s considered normative and where autistic people are.

Setting the table: Beyond Autism

This “foreigner fatigue” — being exhausted by the constant work of moving in a world made for different people — extends to other marginalized groups.

For me, a breakthrough occurred in my coming out as transgender. I went from “being” a white, cis-het male to a trans woman. And because I changed my presentation so suddenly (thanks, autistic mind!), the differences were pretty stark.

Where before I would pop down to the local Food Lion to pick up an item or two for dinner, I now have to balance competing interests:

On the one hand, the Food Lion makes me nervous for my safety. I get constant glares and people muttering under their breath, and the parking lot is dark.

On the other hand, the nearest grocery store that I feel comfortable in is 7 miles further away.

In and of itself, it’s a relatively small, not overwhelming choice to have to make.

Once.

But these kinds of choices don’t just happen every once in a while. They’re constant. Am I in a restaurant where I feel comfortable using the bathroom? If not, how long will it before before I can find one? When sending out proposals to corporate clients to do improv training, do I pay to have someone accompany me when I know the audience will be a group of all male sales people? If I get into a traffic accident, should I stay in my car with the doors locked until the police arrive?

I realize this kind of thinking isn’t news to anyone who isn’t a cis-het white man. But bear with me a moment.

The worry about safety was something I was expecting. The exhaustion was not.

On top of the exhaustion was the simple opportunity costs: every one of these choices preempted something else I could be doing: finishing up work, coming up with new ideas for the theater, spending time with my kids, etc.

I had lost those opportunities by virtue of no longer operating within the bounds of the normative expectations. I had lost privilege.

A Way to Think About Privilege

This new way of thinking about privilege gave me insight into how to respond to people who reject privilege because they “also work hard” and “have setbacks”. But one very basic way to understand privilege is to see it as having time opportunity.

While young girls are learning how to dress just so, in order to walk the fine line between too masculine (butch, which could get you beaten up) and too sexual (which could get your rapist acquitted), young boys are learning how to replace an alternator.

While young black boys are learning how to dress and move and behave inside almost any retail store so as to not get accused of shoplifting, young white boys are learning financial literacy.

While professional women are expending time and energy on trying to be heard in the office without being “aggressive,” their male counterparts are making moves to get ahead.

I think you get it.

Opportunity costs driven by the effort required to exist within the normative expectations of a white, heterosexual, patriarchal culture mean extra work to keep up. And more fatigue.

Forks that get used up.

And, yes, everyone has setbacks, obstacles, and problems. But when you’re already using your forks just to exist, it’s that much harder to be resilient. Much less to get ahead.

That some groups don’t have to expend forks as part of being who they are is privilege.

Intersectionality

But for many people, forks get used up in multiple ways simultaneously. This is intersectionality.

Any parent of more than one child will probably tell you that having your second child is more than twice as much work as having one. In addition to the regular care and feeding of the second child, you now have the compounding work of dealing with the interactions between the two.

In much the same way, anyone who has to deal with multiple areas of being “foreign” to the normative expectations has compounding difficulty in maintaining their supply of forks.

Fewer forks = fewer opportunities.

Mine is a simple example. As an autistic person, I have to expend energy to be seen as a neurotypical (and, in case you’re wondering why I do, try getting a job or landing a contract or making friends when you don’t follow social rules). As a transgender person, I have to expend energy to stay safe, to deal with my kid’s school’s 1990′s mentality about what having 2 parents looks like, etc.

As an autistic transgender person, I am now also having to learn a whole new set of social customs, expectations, cues, responses, and more in order to “fit in” as a woman, not to mention the difficulty of engaging with people who treat me poorly, refuse to recognize my validity, and more.

It’s little wonder I’m exhausted all the time.

Now think about the incredible amount of work that it takes for a Black, poor, transgender woman to make her way, and you can see how ridiculous the notion of “just work harder” and “make better choices” is. Good choices are easier when you’re not fatigued out of your mind all the time, and working harder is only possible when you have time and space to do so.

Making Space, Making Forks

You hear people talk all the time about how we’re all going through something, whether it’s visible or invisible. And the biggest thing we can do for each other is to make space, so that it’s easier for us all to get around the way that works best for us.

And yet there’s so much anger and pushback against doing the little things to create space. That it’s too much work to recognize that there is no such thing as the EXEMPLARY, TYPICAL HUMAN, one who has no touch of chronic disease, or ADHD, or autism, or BPD, or depression, or anxiety, or isn’t a white, cis-het male. Ultimately, making space isn’t that hard. All it takes is a moment of consideration and listening. Most accommodations aren’t hard to implement.

For example, some things you can do to make space for autistic people (at least, those like me) include:

Leaving a bit of extra time in conversations for the autistic person to chime in. We often feel stressed when encouraged to “jump in.”

Don’t force an autistic person to address your feelings immediately when something has happened. This can be as simple as a spilling a drink on them, or having said something that hurts their feelings. They’re focused on processing the immediate issue first, internally. They’ll need a moment (or several) before they can address you.

Surprise social situations can be very stressful. Be thoughtful before peer-pressuring an autistic person to do something, even “fun” things like dancing or sharing a story with the group. Help them feel welcome to do so, leave space, and they’ll interact when they’re ready.

Don’t ask autistic people to “read between the lines.” If you have an expectation of them, be as explicit as possible.

Communicating complex ideas can be difficult, especially emotions and feelings, and we often feel angry (at ourselves) and frustrated when we’re not understood. Sometimes we “clam up” – which means that we’re running through the conversation in our head over and over again to try and figure out what went “wrong”.

Several of us went out to a bar after a recent show and some very lovely audience members were there, and they were enjoying as several improvisers would tell a made-up story about the couple. They then turned to me and said, “Now you, Abby.” I demurred. I was worn out from the day and then the show. I love improv, including performing it, but it does come with a cost in forks. And I was now out of them.

Thankfully, a beautiful friend understood what was going on for me and made a very simple deflection on my behalf. By saying with grace and humor, “We’ve already heard several versions of what didn’t happen, I think it’s time you told us what did!” she effectively shielded me from having to use up my last fork explaining why I was too tired.

It meant so much to me, and I was able to enjoy the rest of the evening.

A Fork-gone Conclusion

The more space we have to interact as ourselves — that is, not conforming to one very specific, very arbitrary understanding of normative behavior — the more forks we can hold on to, and the more energy we have to be in and a part of the world, our communities, and our families.

0 notes

a--musings · 5 years

Text

The isolation.

April 28, 2019. I lost my journal, and it made me feel sad and contemplative and dismal and moody once I realized that I didn’t realize I had ever lost it in the first place. Which means I have forgotten to write in a very long time, and that kind of directly reflects how lackluster and uninspired I’ve felt for weeks. Things are a bit ordinary, with no sense of chaos or confusion to consume me. but there are still periods of slow, silent growth and human experience. It’s still growth, nonetheless.

Thinking back to the past couple weeks devoid of self-reflection, I actually realize that I have been irked by particular musings, after all. My young adulthood has been defined by the consistent theme of constant inquisition and harrowing doubt, as I swing on a pendulum of existential crises between absurdism and nihilism and stoicism and everything in between. But I keep getting entangled in these vexing webs of conflicting philosophies and relentlessly engulfed by confusion. What is the significance of existence? Who the hell cares anymore, I say. Right now, I don’t want to focus on who we are, or why we are. For the first time in many years, I realized these are not the types of questions I want to ask at the moment. I will continue to find those answers, eventually, and I’ll work to refine those ideas. But right now, I consider sheer humanism. That is all.

Last weekend, I went to dinner with very dear friends who have been dating for five years or so. Marriage? Very likely. Probably soon. Good for them, I think to myself, each time I watch them interact. They are a beautifully imperfect match. They find fault in one another, yet find no deal-breaking fatality in these shortcomings and flaws. They are aware of their imperfections, and it is totally and utterly okay. They accept all parts--the beautiful with the ugly, the broken with the whole--of one another, and they do so with love.

“He doesn’t like touching me,” she quipped, smiling at him. “He never holds my hand!”

And then I realize that I truly do not remember the last time I held someone’s hand.

For 12 years of my life, I was a girlfriend. I was 14 with the first, which lasted a few short months until I wanted the next. A few weeks later, I was on to the second, which I held onto for far too long, wasting away six years of my adolescence and formative youth. Just a mere month later, came the next, lasting another four superficial years. Two weeks later, was the last, ending in so much heartbreak that I finally realized I needed to be alone for a while. Like I said, for 12 long years of my life, I was a girlfriend. For 12 years of my life, I was always holding someone’s hand. The only thing that allowed me to let go was knowing there was a new one to hold.

A textbook serial monogamist, people would joke. I was impulsive. Impetuous. Unable to let go of the ships that I was well-aware were sinking until I knew I had another lifeboat to jump on to keep me afloat. I had someone’s hand in mine constantly--so often that I never had one free. Relationships were my safety net for intimacy. It provided security--a guarantee that I would have a meaningful, affectionate connection with someone. It was guaranteed that I would always have someone to sit by the water and talk about the stars to. That I would always have someone to share my bizarre, nonsensical ideas with, who would actually listen, and actually hear me. That I would always have someone with whom to share my deepest fears and tears and would, without hesitation and without a doubt, would give me his time and his effort. That I would have someone to share secrets, who would trust me enough to show me his soul and tell me things he could never admit aloud before the foundation of us.

For almost half of my life, girlfriend was part of my being. It’s who I knew myself to be. I was almost never not a girlfriend. Now, I haven’t been a girlfriend in a while. When something that was such a solidified, integral part of your identity is shaken, you begin to question yourself a lot. You have to begin the agonizing process of finding who you are now that you’ve lost what you were. My relationships were imprisoning. They kept me in a box, far away from my true independent self, and far from my natural inquisitions. I was a floating soul, just lackadaisically floating through life and creating lazy ways to achieve intimacy and meaningful connections. I was filling voids, and using relationships to distract myself from the pains of self-discovery. Being alone without a lifeboat and safety net has made me realize that lack of genuine, deep human connection is extraordinarily isolating and, at times, intolerably painful. I am particularly sensitive to when these meaningful relationships are lacking. I am finally becoming aware that I inherently value the sense of belonging, and of shared experiences that are genuinely human and vulnerable. Determining what I value and acting consistently with it will reinforce my idea of myself, and I’ll finally feel confident in who I am and what I can offer humanity.

It is quite rare that I feel a meaningful, significant connection to anyone. These days, I am immensely isolated. I have no one to have deep, thought-provoking conversations with. I have no one to tell me things so intensely profound and beautiful and wholesome that make me contemplate for days. I am in an environment where it is exceedingly difficult to cultivate any kind of meaningful, intimate relationship. Conversations are lifeless and futile; they simply never feel real. I am constantly caught in deafening, meaningless chatter with people that I am trying so hard in vain to reach out to. Superficial conversation has become unsustainable; physical intimacy solely due to physical attraction has lost all interest from me. All of these feelings have made me aware that I am distinctly emotionally sensitive, and I likely feel the pain of solitude much more intensely than others...I am isolated, like an unshakable despondence looming over me. I taste insipid food with no flavor. I hear songs with no melody. I see the world in bleak, dull colors. Blue skies of spring look pale gray.

I do feel lonely, more often than not. Sometimes it is intolerably painful. But I will not ruminate on the negative aspect of all of this. These experiences are utterly essential to finding “me” and defining my new identity. These are the experiences that allow me to finally understand what I inherently value and yearn for in life. I am absolutely lonely and isolated, but I am totally and completely okay with that. Because at least I am learning now. At least I recognize these feelings are signs that there I need to make changes, and that a strong sense of human connection is unequivocally vital to my existence. At least I now know what exactly I need to do to create an invaluable, beautiful, and happier life for myself. And now that I know this, I will go on and do just that.

—a.

0 notes

analytic-chaoticism · 7 years

Text

Night In The Woods - Witches, Astral Projection, Dissociation, and the Hole at the Center of Everything

Here’s my Night In The Woods theory out of left field because I love!!! this game! so! here we are. Lots of spoilers regarding literally everything so only read this if you’re familiar with at least one complete playthrough of the game. Sorry if this doesn’t have the best structure, I’m still trying to condense my thoughts on it all a bit but I wanted to get this out there!

The ending of Night In The Woods has seemed to confuse a lot of people, and I can understand why, because the deeper story elements can seem quite nebulous the first go through. But! fear not. I have some ideas that I’m throwing together here to hopefully consolidate some of the meaning and shine light on a plot a little more conclusive than what we have now. I’m not going to claim this is an original theory, because I’m new to the fandom and unfamiliar with any of the present conjecture, but I still wanted to share my ideas. I’ve only seen one playthrough of the game, so I’m unfamiliar with alternate choices, all of the evidence, and any of the companion game content, so if this interests anyone reading it more knowledgeable on the bigger picture of this universe please tell me what you know! Talk to me!

There are 3 key parts of the plot that I’m going to tie together here: Mae’s issues with dissociation, her dream sequences, and the cult of the Black Goat.

Part 1: Mae’s Issues

The focal point of this story is Mae’s struggle with mental health, namely depression, anxiety, and dissociation. To quote: “And suddenly, like, something broke. It was just like… pixels/No like… reality broke. The characters onscreen… Like I’d felt like I knew them… But they weren’t people anymore. They were just shapes. And their lines were just things someone had written/It was all just stuff. Stuff in the universe/When Andy stepped up it was like… And he was just shapes too. Just lines someone wrote.”

Mae very clearly outlines an abrupt and dramatic disconnect from reality. The important part here is understanding that this is not based on psychosis - wherein one becomes delusional and hallucinatory, replacing or reinventing reality - but ‘depersonalization-derealization.’ This is when someone feels detached from themselves (either simple self-estrangement or actually feeling as if they are a third person observer of themselves) and/or their surroundings. Depersonalization Disorder (DPD) could, then, sound like a bit of Mae. Dissociation is, largely, a coping mechanism for stress, so then it’s no surprise that dissociative disorders - here DPD - are usually developed after prolonged trauma or very traumatic events. Mae’s past is largely unknown to us, but from the sounds of things, the trauma that incited the onset of these dissociative issues were existential crises: her first break occurs after she loses sight of significance and meaning. Things are just shapes and predetermined lines, performing the functions they were made for until they stop, associating reality with a script more than a series of natural events. Everyone and everything is just a series of shapes and lines. This is a feeling I can understand. It deals with pointlessness and inevitability and whether free will actually matters or even exists at all, what the purpose of anything is, forgetting that everyone has a personal life and inner monologue just as complex and unfathomably large as your own, and reconciling your feelings with these thoughts and truths. Mae then goes on to discuss how her symptoms worsen whenever she’s around new places and new people by herself, and alludes to her journal as a sort of anchor. Now I’m not a trained psychologist, just a second year high school student who’s done some research and had some feelings, so I can’t for certain say the significance of this? Maybe consolidating things, thoughts, and feelings, helps ground them in reality? On paper, from her hand, they’re somehow more real, more significant? Something immutable that she has made which condenses and validates her experiences - at the end of everything, hold onto anything. With all of her dream sequences being very spacey and barren, all the talks about stars and the spaces between them (and the meanings we give them, something which would be V important here and explain why she likes constellations so much), and the (black) hole at the center of everything are all things that deal with distance and emptiness, which is something to keep in mind in regards to all that. So! That’s our backgrounding on Mae and the key to the premise of this theory.

Part The Second: Mae’s Dream Sequences - The Astral Plane

Mae’s dream sequences are really cool, and I can’t tell you what all their constituent parts are. All I know is that they feature amalgamations of Possum Springs and her university. I think it’s worth mentioning here that the songs for her dream sequences start with Astral, even Astral Train, which rhymes with Astral Plane, which is where we’re headed on this journey together.

So there’s a lot of significance to Mae’s dreams, ranging from the first sequence we see where she destroys a looooooooot of things, to the all-important talking with God, and you could make a lot of connections to different things (including her issues with dissociation and how they manifested), but that’s not quite my angle per se. Mae’s dreams are astral projections: her soul left her body and traveled through reality, where she would encounter the star giants, and ultimately God, as well as find the Black Goat. Astral projection, in and of itself - when one’s soul wanders through existence separate from the body (which ties in to Mae’s wandering tendencies nicely) - is very similar to dissociation: the soul (seems to) leaves the body, severed from the confines of physical reality. Through astral projection, it is thought that you can encounter higher powers, such as God, which Mae did. During her conversation with God, they alluded to the ‘hole at the center of everything’ and showed her visions of eldritch beings who - because I’m a Homestuck - we’ll refer to as Horrorterrors.

Now it could be said that there aren’t actually any mystical forces at play in NITW, considering Mae - with her mental illnesses - makes for somewhat of an unreliable narrator, but it’s undeniable that Eide possessed supernatural abilities from an unbiased perspective (with all 4 friends present), and I’ve seen cut content featuring Germ’s grandma where she predicts Mae’s future regarding the cult of the Black Goat and discusses how she started ‘walking in her dreams’ once the mine shut down and the Hole opened. So we have God, the Horrorterrors, the eldritch horror that is the Black Goat (who I believe to be inspired by the Black Goat of the Woods with a Thousand Young from the Lovecraft mythos). We also have two related figures to back them up: the witch and the Forest God.

Now, astral projection features in Wicca, and before that, a variety of other religions pagan or otherwise. Wicca is the practice of witchcraft, which we see reflected in the witch of Possum Springs, who could have been drawn to the area because of the slumbering Black Goat, or - if they weren’t in Possum Springs already - somehow have summoned them there through their practices. One of the primary two Wicca deities is the Horned God, god of nature, wilderness, sexuality, hunting, and the life cycle. He can be reflected in both the Black Goat, as the Horned God so often appears to be, or in the Forest God who banishes the witch to “wander the stranger places” with the “ghosts” which also sounds a lot like astral projection. Either way, there seems to be a lot of pagan imagery going on here (and the janitor is a whole theory in and of himself).

The important part to take away from all this is that Mae’s dreams and otherworld events aren’t just in her head: they are real, as is God, the Horrorterrors, and the Black Goat (but if you wanted to argue the delusional dissociation theory I’m down for that too). I think something important to note is that when Mae was pulled into the hole through the river, Gregg described her as looking like she was sleep-walking, which she would be, if her soul had left her body to travel across dimensions.

Part Fuck Man: The Cult Of The Black Goat

Now this is where we start to tie things together.

The cult of the Black Goat all share something very important with Mae: they’re displaced. Displaced in society. Displaced in time. They’re disillusioned by the contemporary era and are scared for their dying back-end town. They’re depressed, anxious, and dissociative. This is how the Black Goat gets you. The weak and vulnerable, with wandering souls. It calls to you in your sleep, much like the Horrorterrors, whispering to you, like any outer god. A dark, enigmatic, ineffable, cosmic, selfish force.

And so, like every cosmic horror who manages to tear a hole in the fabric of reality with its dark, dark hooves, hiding within an interidmensional pit in the abandoned mine of your abandoned town, it makes pacts with the vulnerable residents it can prey upon within their astrally vulnerable dreams. Whether or not it actually makes the town prosper - if it even has the sort of power something so intricate and unquantifiable like that requires (though it is worth mentioning that material wealth is the easiest to get from these things because it just becomes a matter of equivalent exchange) - it convinced the cult to throw people into the tear to feed it. In reward, some got abilities, most notably Eide. Throughout his appearances we see him use intangibility - whether it be during the Harfest kidnapping or jumping us in the mines (which would require him to faze through solid rock because he definitely didn’t use the elevator to appear out of nowhere).

Nowhere as in he literally appears out of nowhere. During this sequence everything starts going dark and the lights are flickering. Perhaps there’s some connection between his powers and darkness, which would make sense, considering their origin.

Before this you could have written the paranormal off: ‘Mae’s an untrustworthy narrator with mental issues and the game is a series of delusions’ or (as the article in the library mentions) ‘everyone is bugging out on mine gas’ (which is such a flop theory because to share a specific, collective hallucination for so long is SOOOOOO improbable and the nature of the people selected is too evident of a pattern yet random i.e. - Mae was never in the mines and nobody else in town was affected by the gas besides the cult, but both of these parties have mental issues and supposed astral travel capabilities making them vulnerable to cosmic interference). But here we have it. The elevator doesn’t move in these few seconds at all. The whole group is there. The narrative is not untrustworthy as long as they are there, experiencing events. This moment cannot be a hallucination, because one of them would have noticed the elevator moving, even though we can clearly see it wouldn’t have had the time to in the frames of darkness knowing how slowly it moves. Irrefutably, there is paranormal bullshit going down in Possum Springs involving the Black Goat. It preys on the mentally vulnerable and detached in their dreams, and offers them power and material gain in exchange for food. Typical Horrorterror stuff.

So what does it mean

You know what? I’m not sure what it means.

For one, it means everything actually happened. 'Mae’s total psychological break down' and 'a variety of hallucinations' are neither interesting explanations story-wise, nor the story I think this game was trying to tell. I think mental illness and what happened went hand-in-hand, but in a more causal nature, or a symbiotic relationship kinda thing, not just one over the other. I wish I had something really profound to say about it but I don’t think I’ve got that far. I think the hole in the center of everything is relatively omnipresent, like a disease. It exists in the literal center of everything, it manifested in Possum Springs, and it consumes the affected residents from the inside out. I think it’s a metaphor for Mae’s issues as much as the Horrorterror stuff is related to them, so it has a bunch of meanings.

In the end all that matters is that everyone’s hopefully going to get better.

I don’t think she closed the hole yet, but I think she’s working on it, and I think there are good people who can help her.

A hole that doesn’t care, and people who do.

If you have any relevant ideas or perhaps more of a satisfying conclusion, or you just wanna talk about things, please! do! I would love to talk about this or this game with peeps so HMU if you’re interested God bless. Perhaps theory isn’t quite the right word for whatever this analyzation is, but here we are anyway. This game means a lot to me, so I wanted to put my thoughts down and get them out there.

Thanks for reading!

#If I can collab on this with someone I'd want to rewrite it #NITW #NITW theory #Night In The Woods #Night In The Woods Theory #Me #My theory #Mae Borowski #NITW spoilers #The hole at the center of everything #The Black Goat

218 notes · View notes