#yes that background is a stock image I was going to paint it myself but then I got called into work so. this is what you get

[the-soupgoblin]

I have finally made. Exactly one (1) Ni No Kuni OC

Her name is Ariel and she's an acrobat in the Circus of Bremen, a traveling circus run by a group of reformed pirates. Most of her act consists of aerialist ropes and sword duels. She's the most socialable of the group, and actually wants to leave the circus to pursue her own dreams of exploring the world.

[ironxkid]

why don't you like endgame or civil war

((hoo buddy, idk what brought this up but salt under the cut!! Like... a lot of salt - specifically regarding Endgame lmao

I’m gonna start off with CACW because it’s a short response lol

I don’t like it simply because I was done with the infighting between the Avengers. The found family crumbs we were given in Endgame was something I really wanted to see, and them just... ripping them apart frustrated me lol

honestly, the movie was... fine? Idk, I found it to be a lil slow for my taste (it felt like it just dragged on when I watched it in theaters), and I just don’t care for it in general  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Also, ngl, I’m really bummed that Captain America: Serpent Society was a joke announcement because that sounds dope as hell and I really wanted to see that before I realized it’d been a joke dfgjhdsfhj

but, yeah, literally just because CACW is specifically an infighting movie annoys me to no end so I just won’t watch it again dgsfjhsfdhj

now, Endgame?

fuck Endgame

I. have a lot of issues with it, all of which are major grievances throughout the fandom. I’m pissed they killed Natasha and didn’t even bother giving her a fucking funeral because, I quote from Joe Russo, “Well, Tony does not have another movie. Tony is done. And Natasha has another film. And Marvel Universe obviously does not have to move forward linearly anymore. But that character still has more screen time coming.” (see here) and that annoys the hell out of me. She’s getting another movie - great! So you killed one of the few characters doing her fucking best to keep everything together at the compound, the one who was taking charge, give her a big role, and then murk her and... give her nothing but a brief mention at the end. Like... what the fuck? Natasha deserved so much better than what she was given. Tony’s funeral could’ve (and, frankly, should’ve) been a funeral for him, Natasha, and Vision because god forbid we see anyone mourn Vision other than Wanda

(actually this post covers how Endgame fucked over the MCU women perfectly, though Wanda’s not mentioned :c )

plus... Tony’s not done lol - he’s still a massive figure in the films/shows despite RDJ not acting in them, so his character has left shockwaves that aren’t dying any time soon. Natasha... basically disappeared, and I believe she would’ve been dropped completely if it wasn’t for the fact she does have a film coming out soon. Which, frankly, seems awesome and all, but it’s a film that goes back to post-CACW pre-IW and... frankly doesn’t give me any reason to understand why that means she didn’t get a funeral. She’s not coming back in future movies/shows that are in present MCU timeline - her movie is set in the past. She could’ve gotten a decent sendoff 

now, Clint’s arc as Ronin rubs me the wrong way. I know it’s a huge thing in the comics, and it’s not him taking a different mantle that I have an issue with. It’s the fact he, a white man, went around murdering people and got off scot-free. Yes, he was targeting genuinely bad people, but... to show that, they specifically singled out Mexican cartels and the yakuza (Japanese mafia, essentially) - so, in other words, the bad guys were people of color! I feel like I don’t need to explain how fucked up that is. And, to clarify, I love Clint! Clint is honestly one of my favorite characters, and the whole thing was just handled... poorly in the film

Tony’s arc genuinely hurts. This is a man who has suffered for years and has tried to make things right, and finally got a chance to settle down. He finally retired from the Avengers, finally settled down, and had a fucking life he could enjoy despite his ghosts, and yet... His arc ends with a message of “tortured soul finally gets rest by dying”. Because, y’know, it’s great seeing yet another long-suffering character only reaching peace through death, because god forbid they let characters heal! He could’ve still caused the second Snap, and he could’ve survived. He could’ve finally been able to step away for good and focus on his family, focus on recovering, and be truly happy. What’s so wrong with letting him stay alive so he can rest and be with his family? What’s so wrong with letting a long-suffering character finally find peace after one last bang? 

plus it pisses me off that they’re now using him as a reasoning as to why bad things are still happening. Why is this person the bad guy? Because Tony Stark somehow may or may not have done something that hurt them! Even though most of that really stems from Howard or Obadiah. Tony just ends up getting the blame in their place. He’s just an easy target to use, much like the tesseract seems to be the go-to answer for why things go wrong. But this is a different train of thought

Steve’s ending pisses me off just as much as the next person lmao. You take a character who has acknowledged he no longer belongs in the past (which, funnily enough, was written by the Russos), aaaaaaand have him go back to the past while ignoring two important people in his life that were still right there. He got Bucky and Sam back, and he leaves them. His arc is ruined within a matter of minutes, and it paints a hella bad picture of him in the process. He goes back in time to stay with Peggy (which ultimately destroys her own arc, and the fact she’s a person outside of her relationship (or lack thereof) with him because, y’know, why have her be able to move on and be her own person?), and we’re supposed to believe he’s fine with everything he knows from the future? Fine with knowing Bucky’s trapped with HYDRA and is suffering as the Winter Soldier? Fine with knowing HYDRA has infested SHIELD from day one? Fine with knowing Howard and Maria are going to die? Fine with royally fucking up the timelines? We’re supposed to believe he sat back and did nothing with all of that? They could’ve had him still hand the shield over to Sam - they could’ve let Steve stay an Avenger without the mantle

also the fact the Russos said he didn’t recognize Red Skull when he returned to Vormir to return the soul stone? Like... what the fuck?? Not to mention he literally returns the stone to Vormir, which “soul for a soul”, and they didn’t bring Nat back that way??

and now onto Thor. Thor... holy fuck is this hitting something personal for me. Thor was ridden with guilt - he was furious with himself, hated himself, and blamed himself for failing to stop the Snap. He fell into a massive depression, and... was promptly danced around as laughing stock. Like, “oh! look at Thor! he’s fat and drunk because he’s depressed haha!” - like fuck off. It’s not funny in any form. His suffering was made into a joke and it pisses me off because I suffer from depression. A lot of people suffer from depression. It’s not funny. It’s fucking terrifying at times. I wasted a shit ton of money on a stupid online sim game because it was a distraction - it gave me... god, I wouldn’t even say temporary happiness, but it gave me something to temporarily help, and I still hate myself for doing it. It was a poor decision on my part, and I wish I could change it. And, during that time, I was scared because I couldn’t see myself pulling out of it. I thought I was gonna feel that way forever. I called out of work multiple times because there were days I couldn’t stop crying (something I still feel horrible for doing), I couldn’t get myself to contact any of my friends for months, and it was all because the medication I was on at the time... stopped working. Thankfully, my depression doesn’t work in a way that makes me a danger to myself, so that wasn’t an issue, but it still fucking sucked. And to see a character that I could relate to on such a personal level treated as laughing stock fucking hurt. I’m not sharing this for sympathy - I’m sharing this because it Thor’s arc hit home and it’s literally the main reason why I will not watch Endgame again

this is more of a nitpick than anything else, but... I didn’t really care for Carol in it tbh? Which is unfortunately because Captain Marvel is one of my absolute favorite movies! And I’m well aware she was introduced in Endgame while CM was being drafted, but that in itself is annoying?? Because Carol was originally going to be introduced in AoU, but was cut because it wasn’t going to introduce her character properly. And yet they decide to introduce her character in a clusterfuck of a movie before her movie is in the final stages, and proceed to release her movie first and then give a complete different characterization in her following appearance

honestly I just wanna cover this now to clarify some things regarding Carter and her backstory: the only reason I keep Endgame as is is because it felt easier for me to do so for the purpose of bending canon for specific threads. I wanted to stay as true to the given plots as possible to help with fudging of both the movies and her background, and also because I didn’t want anyone to feel like I was trying to force my own headcanons onto them, y’know? 

I’m just gonna plug this here because fuck it lol, but I did start a fix-it fic regarding Endgame that you can read here! I... probably won’t finish it tbh, and I haven’t gone over it in a hot minute so it might be riddled with errors ahah - plus I’m not sure about how I wrote the characters! I get nervous when writing canon characters because I feel like I’ll miss their characterization completely, which is actually why I,,, rarely rp canon characters dgfjhgsfdhj

also the image in the doc was created by @/archervale!! 

[kyidyl]

Can we talk about art for a second?

I’m pretty sure none of you are following me for art content because that’s just not what I do normally, but I’ve been working on some stuff and I just wanted to share. Here’s my current WIP:

I’m using sketchbook on my iPad Pro, and...can we just talk about process for a second? I’m gonna put this behind a cut just in case it gets long and because this isn’t my normal content. 

So I’ve been drawing almost my entire life, but I didn’t really start teaching myself anything good until around 9th grade (which is like...14 years old.). I started by copying Disney characters and then I was introduced to comic books and I copied those. I was in college when digital art start making its way into the art world. People would color their pencil drawings (this was shortly before tablets, so...with a mouse.). I grew into an artist around the time people like Aimee Major and Stephanie Lostimolo were really starting to stand out. And I don’t know about other fandoms, but I was in the gargoyles fandom and from what I can tell...a LOT of modern digital art has its genesis in that fandom. Anyway, what I’m trying to say here is that I started using photoshop with version 3.0 and I’ve had a Wacom tablet almost since the day they came out (gen one graphire tablet represent!).

I’ve never, in all that time, gotten the hang of digital painting. I have a hard time with tablets because you can’t tilt them like you can tilt a paper and it takes a weird sort of hand-eye-screen coordination that I just never mastered. But digital art is so beautiful that I’ve always WANTED to be able to do it. I can make graphics and edit photos but I have a hard time with painting. I have seen the million myriad ways of doing it, and most of them start with the same idea: lay down flats and then lighten or darken as necessary. And this never worked for me because a, the airbrush tool isn’t painterly enough for me and b, it takes for goddamned EVER. For. Ever. And I’m a fast artist! I can spit out a whole line drawing in like a half hour-45 mins with traditional media. But I have adhd, and so finishing long term large scale detailed projects is often not in the cards for me. So dumping like 48 hours of work time into a painting isn’t going to work for me.

But recently I’ve gotten back into art again and I’ve been watching the sky artist of the year and I decided I was curious about oil painting and, well, one hyperfixation later, here we are. I don’t have the money or space for actual oil painting, so I went to sketchbook to see if there was an alternative, and there is! So because I wanted to learn how to oil paint I finally figured out how to digitally paint and I’m gonna share that with you in case you, like me, struggle with the time input and focus required to do digital art.

First, I started practicing poses by drawing an outline over any image that caught my fancy. I have a good understanding of human anatomy because of my science background, but my poses aren’t creative and I especially struggle with perspective and multiple figures in an image. So I started to do line drawings over an image. Here’s the stock image I used for the WIP:

Look at all that fabric! Look at the movement! I love it. So I traced it:

Yes, TRACED, because tracing is a tool like anything else.

Then I choose colors. I pick 5: a midtone (the color you want the thing to be perceived as. In my case, you can see it in the WIP at the top.), a slight dark, a slight light, a blackened tone for deep shadow, and a very light tone for highlights. I always default to white light when choosing these colors, and I’ll get to my reasoning further down. The palette for the robe looks like this:

(Ignore the tan and blue, they’re for another project)

Then you start to lay down flats. Now, I do this with the synthetic oil brush in sketchbook because I like the texture (this image though I’d laid down the flats with the airbrush months ago and didn’t want to redo it, hence the lack of texture and the 100% opacity.), and as with oils, my approach to digital now is to layer rather than cover. Staying in the lines isn’t important. In fact, you should go outside of the lines because it will help you get shadows and highlights along the edges later. What IS important is putting everything on different layers. When in doubt, new layer. I work from back to front, which means that the base layer is the background. In front of that is the skin, in front of that is the robe, in front of that is the teal inside of the robe, in front of that is accessories. Hair varies depending on what’s going on with the image. Here I’ll probably put it between the skin and robe. Ask yourself: what is this covered by? And the use that to decide layer placement. Special effects are a whole other thing, as are highlights. I’ll get to that in a second tho.

The next step is to create an oversketch. This serves much the same function as an undersketch in oil painting, only in reverse because your reference photo is under - and covered - by your work. I started doing it because as I was painting I was flicking the layer on and off, making it transparent, whatever just to see where the shadows are on the reference image. It was a real pain in the rear. So I started making the blobs and borders of the highlights and shadows with an oversketch. You don’t need a method for telling which boundaries are for shadows and which are highlights because for that you can just turn the layer on and off. Just mark where the General shapes are. Here’s the oversketch for this drawing:

See? Blobs of General Area. When you’re painting, use them to lay down color and then turn them off when you’re blending because they’re not part of the final image and you don’t want to end up with gaps that were covered by the over sketch. To do this, I use the 9b pencil tool and black, but tbh just se whatever you like. That’s just my preference.

Now, for the shading. I started by trying a bunch of different natural media brushes but I eventually ended up sticking on a kind of weird choice: the fan brush. I keep the flow around 20%, which gives me these nice textured marks to lay down color, but then if I don’t lift the pencil up it stops laying down color and instead starts to blend. This means a, I can make it as smooth or painterly as I like with one tool and b, I can paint and blend with the same tool. No more muddying up my drawings by over-blending with the smudge. No losing the texture while blending because it blends with the texture. And the shape of the fan brush allows me to be smudgy with I like, but also will do hard edges. Plus the blending thins out the colors so I can get neat effects by laying down colors on top of each other because it stays a little transparent. You end up needing to lay down a lot of “paint” to get opacity but that’s ok because it allows you to make more complex colors. That’s good, because things like skin aren’t a color. They’re chemical: they’re melanin in cells over blood vessels and muscle and skin is transparent. Even very dark skinned people have undertones. So when you build up paint this way you can capture undertones without ruining your painting. Which, I’m pretty sure, is how it works in oils. But it translates well to digital.

So at this point, painting your image is basically a calming adult coloring book. You lay down color, blend, check your reference, repeat. But a few things to keep in mind:

- Take note of the darkest and lightest areas of the image. Nothing should be lighter or darker than these areas. Nothing in the drawing above will be darker than her back because that’s the darkest area of the painting.

- See the trees and the forest. Sometimes a detail doesn’t make any sense until you’ve seen it in context. Trust your guide and your photo reference. But also make sure that you don’t get so stuck in the details that you can’t relate one area to another. A fold that goes through two areas should be consistent across those two areas, even if you painted them separately. An area might seem dark in comparison to what’s next to it, but it isn’t as dark as the darkest area of the image so don’t go whole hog. Keep it in context.

- Folds in clothing aren’t nonsensical. They are a result of the movement and weight of the fabric. Ergo, the shadows and highlights that create them should also make sense.

- If you’re having a hard time figuring out where the highlights and shadows are, make a copy of the reference image layer and desaturate in, then turn off the colored reference layer.

Lastly, I’m finding it helpful to keep the highlights from colored light on its own layer. I didn’t used to do this, I used to use the colored light as one of my highlight colors. But the truth is that most objects are shaded by more than one light source, and so I’ve decided to do all the shading as white light and then the green (which will eventually be from some kind of green magic.) is on a different layer. My reasoning for this is that it helps keep the integrity of the shading and it prevents the colors from bending too much and getting muddy. So if I add a green highlight and I don’t like it then it’s easy to remove. I don’t have a highlight and shading that’s now ruined by green because I’ve been using light flow brushes. So colored light on its own layer. How much of a highlight you give it entirely depends on how strong your light sources is and whatnot. So far I’m satisfied with just hitting the high points, but I may change that later on.

When you’re done painting the area, go ahead and erase all of the excess paint around the edges of it and clean it up. I like to leave the black outline as part of the image, but if you don’t want to do that you should turn it on and off as necessary while painting so you can make sure to fill in gaps and get clean lines between the areas of color.

So if you made it all the way down here, thanks for reading my ramble. :)

[cheekyharold]

My Prince, Chapter Ten

Read previous chapters here!

I always thought it was weird that you could hear the rain before you saw it. What begins as a small pit, pit, pit against roofs of cars or buildings soon becomes a wall of water in a matter of seconds. But you always hear it running towards you on the pavement. And at that moment, the saying “When it rains, it pours” had never been so literal.

I walked out of Kensington’s gates in a daze. I didn’t even feel the rain soaking my clothes. I didn’t even recognize if it was cold or not. It must have been. It was only the first week of April. I wished this were all an elaborate April Fool’s joke. Sure seemed like one.

I forced my legs to move forward each step. I have to make it to the tube and back to work. I have to – I have to tell everyone…

It’s liver cancer, she said. Terminal. The sentence echoed around my now-empty-feeling brain.

Somehow I made it back to Buckingham. I didn’t remember scanning my Oyster or stepping onto a train, but I made it.

I knocked on William’s door, and he called for me to enter.

He stared at me oddly until I realized too late that I was still soaked.

“No umbrella?” he joked, but when he sees my ghostly expression, his smile fades. “What’s happened?”

“I don’t – I don’t know–” I mumbled, unsure how to even form everything into words.

“Come in, Carolina.” He stood from his desk and walked around it, helping me into a chair. “Is everything all right? Is it the Prince?” When I finally am able to read his expression, I see pure terror. He probably thinks there’s been some attack. He’s about ready to call in an emergency when I place a quick hand on his arm to stop him.

“The Prince of Wales is fine, William.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

I tell him what my mother told me – she’s at late stage liver cancer, far too late to do any treatments. She sits on a transplant list, but with her history and background, the odds are slim to none.

“She’s been admitted to The Shakespeare Hospice in Stratford-upon-Avon,” I concluded. My voice didn’t sound like mine.

William’s face is brimming with pity, but I don’t want it. For so long, I pushed my mother away and now… I’m sad? She was never much of a mother to begin with, but that phone call shattered something inside of me I didn’t know existed anymore.

“You take as much time as you need off, Carolina,” William finally said. “Definitely take the rest of the day. I’ll give your photos to Jude to complete.” Another pause. “Miss Pearson, I know you and your mother weren’t close… but I think you should see her.”

I only nod my head. “I know.” Better late than never, eh?

William slips the camera bag’s strap off my shoulder. When I stand, he surprises me by pulling me into a deep hug. I don’t think I cried yet – it was hard to tell tears from rain outside – but I squeeze my eyes shut and let a couple fall.

When he let me go, he said in the softest tone, “Take a week, a month – however long you need, yeah? Your job will be here waiting for you. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Thank you,” I croaked.

The rain outside let up a bit by the time I exited the palace. I called Pip on my way to the tube station to give her the news. She offered to leave work but I convinced her to stay. I told her I wouldn’t leave until the morning anyway, so I’d see her back at the flat that evening.

Back at my flat, I stared at my empty suitcase for fifteen minutes. I hadn’t been back home for close to a year. I didn’t know how long I’d be gone for. I didn’t know how much to pack. I didn’t want to pack, and I really didn’t want to go back home. But I knew I had to. Plus, this distance would be ideal. I wouldn’t have to see Harry’s face, even though the image of his panic was stuck in my mind forever.

Stop thinking about him.

I can’t.

He’s not the priority.

Neither is she.

She is right now.

I didn’t even realize how late it was until Pippa’s keys were scratching at the door and it swung open.

“Oh, babe,” she cooed, dropping her keys and bag and wrapping me in a hug. “I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”

I mechanically hugged her back and said, “Thanks.”

“You need help?” She pointed to the empty suitcase.

In reply, I sigh and slump down onto my mattress. “I don’t even know what to pack.”

“Well, it’s beginning to get warmer so maybe just a few light jumpers and–”

“That’s not what I mean, Pip. I mean… I don’t even know how long I should go. A week? A month? How long does it take to put someone’s affairs in order? How strange of a saying is that – put someone’s affairs in order. What does it even really mean?”

“Whoa, okay, calm down there,” she said, turning to me and placing her hands on my arms. “Sit down.”

Robotically, I sat on the edge of the bed.

“You should always pack more than you think you might need, yes? It’s better to have too much than too little. I’ll help.”

We took the next two hours filling the suitcase to the brim. In true Pip style, she was adding more things well into the night that she thought I might need. I was still in a daze so she cooked us both dinner, made me some tea, and shuffled me off to bed early enough to catch the morning train.

For the entire three-hour journey north the following morning, I couldn’t sit still. I didn’t know what to do with my hands. Nothing felt right. Sitting on the seat felt like I was doing nothing, and I felt like I should be doing something. I tried playing soft, instrumental music through my earphones but nothing worked to calm me down. I was anxious to arrive, yet dreading it at the same time. I didn’t know what to expect when I got there.

I had about a dozen texts through the night and into the next day from Jude, wondering how I was and if I was holding up all right. I didn’t respond to any, mostly because I had no idea how to respond. I didn’t know my emotions. I felt everything yet numb at the same time.

When the train arrived at the Stratford-upon-Avon station, I dragged my suitcase off as slowly as I could. I hadn’t stepped on the concrete platform in what felt like years. Of course, the air was the same as in London, but everything felt different here. It was always so quiet compared to the city.

I knew the first thing I had to do, and I dreaded that more than anything.

I had to go home.

I lugged my suitcase the ten-minute walk from the station to the townhouse I called home for eighteen years. The familiar street brought back memories I wanted to keep at bay forever. Most of them consisted of me running away from our house, tears welling in my eyes. Some of them were of me peering down this very road, on the phone with emergency services, wondering where the ambulance was when I thought my mother had overdosed. The neighbors hated when I did that.

It was one of those streets where every house is attached to the one next to it, and each one looked like an exact copy of the last. The only defining feature in each one was when a door was painted a different color or had different lace curtains in the window. I could always tell which one was mine – third from the last, on the left, with a red door that had begun to chip years ago. Now, it didn’t even look red. The door itself looked like, with one blow of wind, it would crumble in on itself.

I turned the key in the lock, surprised it still worked. I don’t even remember the last time I used it. Six months ago? A year? I was also surprised to see the door was even locked. Usually, she forgot to lock it.

Inside was as musty as ever. I didn’t miss the smell. She never opened the windows. She never bothered with heat or aircon; always mumbled something about companies stealing her money. The only ventilation the house ever received was her opening and closing the front or back doors. The smell of old cigarette smoke hung heavy in the air, attaching itself to every surface.

I closed and locked the door behind me and switched on the lights. They flickered for a moment, but then the yellow light filled the doorway. It opened to a small hallway with carpeted, stained stairs leading up to the second floor. The door on the right lead to the decrepit kitchen that leads to the dining room and to the back door. The door on the left went into the living room and first-floor bathroom.

I climbed the stairs to the top floor, turned down the hallway past the bathroom and spare bedroom – which had always instead been storage of random objects she never could seem to get rid of – to the familiar door at the end of the hall. I could spot it anywhere. It was covered with stickers and drawings I’d made when I was little. Over the top was a handwritten sign by me declaring for everyone to stay out. I remembered closing it for the last time when I moved out for uni all those years ago. I told myself I’d never come back. Besides the required holidays, I never did. Until now.

I turned the old, rusted knob and walked into the room. Everything was the same. The same pink bed sheets and quilted cover, the desk littered with photographs I took a lifetime ago. I chucked my luggage onto the bed and unpacked the entire thing. Really, I was buying time until I had to be at the care facility. Hospice just seemed like a cruel word. Nothing about it seemed comforting.

I went back downstairs to look in the kitchen for food. I didn’t want to touch anything – every inch was covered in some sort of grime or dust. It didn’t look like anyone had been in the kitchen in months. Maybe she hadn’t.

I cracked open the fridge and frowned. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it was completely empty. I guess I should have been glad I didn’t find some old, rotting food. But there wasn’t even a pint of ice cream in the freezer. It was almost noon, and my stomach was grumbling.

I reached under the sink and pulled out the plastic Tesco bags. I grabbed my purse again from upstairs and walked to the Tesco up the road. I guess one upside to living outside of a city was that the grocery stores were so much bigger. Since I didn’t know how long I’d be staying, I stocked up on all the foods I could fit in the two bags. I also bought a few cleaning supplies. If I was going to be staying in that god-forbidden house, I may as well try and make it presentable for whoever would buy it next.

After I ate lunch, I knew it was time. I couldn’t procrastinate any longer. I searched for the location of the hospice and was disappointed it was only a 20-minute walk away. I spent the time on the walk wondering what I would say to her. What could I say to her? I had nothing to apologize for – she made my life a toxic hell; I had to escape. Turning around and coming back just never seemed like an option available to me. It would only cause a spiral of events. Someone needed to break the cycle. I wasn’t sorry it was me.

Through the trees beginning to bud for spring, I could see the building with the sign reading “THE SHAKESPEARE HOSPICE” on the side. I followed the signs for the entrance and paused for a second outside the front doors.

Walk in. Do it.

Inside, I knew, everything would change. From here on out, my life was going to be different. Soon, I’d be an orphan. Well, sort of. I had no clue the whereabouts of my father nor did I care. I didn’t even remember what he looked like anymore. Maybe he was dead.

I walked through the doors, and a lady with a kind face greeted me. “Hi, can I help you?”

I glanced around the room. It looked like a regular urgent care waiting room. Yellow walls, inspirational posters, old magazines on tables with unknown stains and watermarks. It smelled like bleach.

“I’m looking for Mary Pearson,” I replied.

“Alright, give me one second to look her up. Are you family?”

I nodded. “Uh, yeah. I’m her daughter.”

“Can I just have you sign in here, please?” She pointed to the clipboard in front of her and handed me a pen.

I scribbled down my name and the time of my arrival. She also handed me one of those large stickers that said, “HELLO, MY NAME IS _________” along with the logo of the hospice.

“Right, so–” she peered down at the sign-in sheet “–Carolina, your mother does have a few outstanding fees that will need to be taken care of before the month is out, but you don’t have to worry about those now since it’s only the beginning of the month. I can give you those papers when you leave if you want.” I nodded. She pulled out a paper anyways, but it didn’t list numbers on it. “This is a map of the grounds.” She took the pen I had just used and pointed it on a spot. “Your mother’s room is 007, so right down that hallway. Take a right, and it’ll be the second on the left. Visiting hours are until 5, unless under special circumstances.” She didn’t have to say what those “special circumstances” where – death. “Do you have any questions?”

“I’m sorry, you said she has outstanding fees?”

The woman nodded. “Yes, but you don’t have to worry about those right now.” I knew she was trying to be polite, especially under the circumstances of her job at a hospice, but her smile was driving me insane.

“I’m just confused. How long has she been here? If she only just got here, how­–”

“Oh.” Her smile finally fell. But now that it did, I wanted nothing more than for it to be back. She looked sad. “I’m-I’m so sorry, I thought you knew. Mrs. Pearson has been here since the beginning of last month.”

A rock fell in my stomach. She’d already been here an entire month. Who knew how much longer she would have? I figured she had called me when she first got here. But… she had been here an entire month already. I didn’t know much about hospices, but I knew they were the last stop for anyone who was admitted. They didn’t tend to last long.

“Of course I knew,” I lied. “I just assumed the NHS would take care of it.”

She smiled sweetly again, but smaller this time. “Some, not all, I’m afraid.”

I swallowed, nodded, and took the directions she gave me to her room. I turned right at the end of the hall, and sure enough, I saw the room number 007 greeting me two doors down. The door was closed, which I was thankful for. It gave me the time to pluck up enough courage to reach for the handle and turn it.

What I saw almost made me gasp. The woman in the bed, I knew, was my mother but looked nothing like her. I had Googled the effects of liver cancer, but nothing could prepare you for the real thing. Her skin was a sickly yellow color, her hair was greasy and matted, probably from not being able to shower from feeling ill or having too little strength, and, most surprising of all, her abdomen. Whereas I expected her to be skin and bones, her abdomen was abnormally swollen. She looked nothing like the mother I knew. I even double-checked the room number to make sure this was the right one. It was.

I trepidatiously walked into the room. She was asleep, and I didn’t want to wake her. I didn’t want her to see the horrified look on my face. She had all sorts of IVs stuck in her, along with an oxygen line and a feeding tube leading into her nose. Her mouth was slightly parted in her sleep state. I noticed her lips were chapped. Something about this room felt suppressing, despite the large window and brightly colored walls.

I set my bag down on the floor and grabbed a chair to pull closer to her. I didn’t want to touch her, still afraid of what I saw. I watched her chest rise and fall, just to make sure she was still alive.

I hardly noticed when a man walked into the room until he spoke my name.

“Carolina?”

When I looked up, I noticed the familiar face looking down at me. I didn’t know what emotion I was expressing, but it quickly changed to shock.

“Callum?” I gasped. “What are you doing here?” I asked, stupidly.

Callum was someone I knew growing up in primary and secondary school. We dated for a couple of years on and off before we both parted ways for uni. We hadn’t spoken since. Now, here he was, wearing a doctor’s lab coat and holding a clipboard.

“I work here,” he replied. Duh. “It’s good to see you.” He offered a kind smile – one, I found, I could not return, no matter how much I wanted to.

I fumbled for words. “I, uh, yeah, you too. Wait – you’re a doctor? Shouldn’t you still be in school?”

“Sort of. I still am. I just started vocational training here in autumn.”

“Wow, that’s-that’s great. Good for you.” I attempted a smile. It was weakly received.

He stared at me for another second before shaking his head slightly. “So, um, Mary – your mother – is one of my patients. Car, I’m so sorry.”

I glanced down at her decrepit figure and shook my head. “No, don’t be. This was a long time coming,” I muttered lowly. I kept my eyes off of him. I knew the look he was giving me. I didn’t want the pity.

“She’s on some heavy sedatives for the pain, but I could wake her if you want?”

I sat back in the chair, shaking my head again. “No, that’s alright.”

“Listen, I know you probably want some time. Whenever you’re ready, we can have the talk about where to go from here.”

I look back up at him. “What do you mean?”

He looked a bit uncomfortable. He shifted his weight on his feet, glanced at my mother, and then back at me. “I mean, just the logistics. The update on her health, what the protocols are, all those types of things.”

I pursed my lips into a thin line. I pressed them tightly together, it almost hurt. Almost.

“We can now if you want,” I said. “How long does she have?”

Callum pulled over another chair to sit on the other side of the bed from me. “Well, since she was diagnosed last November–”

“Wait, November?” I gasp.

“Yes,” he answers slowly, unsure.

“I had no idea,” I whisper, looking over at her unconscious figure again. She had been sick for months, and she said nothing. Then again, I didn’t call her either. Not even on Christmas Day.

“Like I said, we can talk about this another time if you want.”

I looked away from her before I let the tears form. “No, let’s do this now. I need to be prepared.”

He was staring at me, probably debating whether or not to speak. Eventually, he began, “She was diagnosed last November with stage four liver failure. End-stage, as it sometimes is called. Considering she’s held on this long says something about her, I think.” I scoff. He ignores me. “However, seeing her health now, I’d say it’s not much longer. A week, maybe two at best. We’re keeping her comfortable, so she doesn’t feel any pain.”

Lucky her, I wanted to say.

“What happens… after?” I asked.

He didn’t have to ask me to specify. He knew what I was asking about. “We’ll send her to the funeral home of your choice, where you can decide the steps from there. Do you know if she has a Will?”

I let out a small, sad laugh. “I haven’t a clue. I don’t think she even has one if I’m to be honest. She doesn’t seem the type.”

Callum gives a curt nod. “Then it’s up to you to decide what to do when the time comes.”

I run a hand over my face, rubbing my eyes deeply. “Great,” I say sarcastically.

I keep my hand over my face. I don’t want to cry. I don’t even love the woman. But something attaches me to her. She is my mother, after all. At one point, I’m sure, there was love between us. I don’t hear Callum get up or leave, so I assume he’s still in the room, silently watching me.

“I can help, if you want,” he said softly.

I removed my hands. I saw the pity on his face I didn’t want to see. “Thanks,” I offered in reply, then added, “but I’ll be fine.”

“How have you been?”

He always had sweet eyes. They were the softest shade of blue. They reminded me of the wool scarf I got for Christmas one year when I was eight. I wore that scarf every day that winter. I was so glad it was a deep shade of blue because it became ratty rather quickly from its everyday use.

He was a thickly built man since he played rugby every year in secondary school. I imagined he continued to play at uni, too. After our final and official break up, I knew I would miss his arms the most. They always seemed to fit around me perfectly. He would kiss my shoulder when he thought I was asleep. He always loved running his fingers through my hair. He was the warmth I needed; the warmth I never had at home. I guess, in a way, he was my home during those times.

“I’ve-I’ve been fine,” I stuttered, trying to put the old memories out of my mind. I had to look away from him and focus on a loose strand of string on my coat.

“I hear you’ve been living in London. How’s that?”

I laughed. “Hard.” I paused. “My flatmate, Pippa Wellington, you remember her, right? – God bless her – has a stable job so she’s been paying the brunt of the bills. But I actually just got a real job for the first time, so I hope to change that soon.”

“Oh yeah?” He sounded genuinely excited, so I had to look up. His smile was blooming, accentuating his tiny dimples in his cheeks. I guess I always had a thing for guys with dimples. “What job is that?”

For some reason, I started going red. “Um, I’m actually working for the palace. I’m one of the royal photographers.”

Callum sat back quickly in his chair as if someone knocked him back. “What! That’s amazing! Have you met the family, then?”

The string on my jacket had never been so interesting as that point. I was doing anything not to meet his eyes. I had been successful up until now about not thinking of Prince Harry. “Yeah, I have. I’m Prince Alfred’s photographer, actually. Weird, huh?”

“That’s…” He shook his head. “That’s amazing, Car. Really. I’m proud of you.”

I nodded, finally glancing up at him. “Hey, you too, you know. You’re a doctor! Like, a proper doctor.”

“Almost,” he adds, cheekily.

“Almost,” I said, raising my hands. “Sorry. Almost a doctor. Last I recall, you wanted to be a musician.”

“Yeah well…” He trailed off, glancing down into his lap. “Strange how things change, huh?”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence fell between us then. I wondered if he was thinking about our past as well. The nights I would come running to his house, tears streaming down my cheeks because I couldn’t afford dinner and my mother was passed out.

He cleared his throat suddenly and stood from the chair. “Listen, I’ve got a few other patients to get to. If you’re free, we could grab a drink tonight or sometime? I have a feeling we have a lot to catch up on.”

I nodded, more enthusiastically than I intended. “Yeah, of course. I’d love to.”

“It’s good to see you, Car. I’m sorry it’s under these types of circumstances.”

I stood from my chair, and we awkwardly shook hands over the bed. “Good to see you, too, Callum.”

“I’ll call you,” he said as he exited the room.

I wondered if he really would.

[thesinglesjukebox]

TWICE - LIKEY [8.00] Title checks out.

Jessica Doyle: At first listen “Likey” seems underwhelming by Twice standards, as even applying the full force of Sana to “me likey, me likey likey likey” doesn’t result in a skull piercing along the lines of “neomu hae, neomu hae” or “kung, kung” or even “sign-EUL BONAE, sig-NEUL BONAE.” (The closest we get is Momo pouting about BB cream and lipstick, and she’s immediately followed by a more conciliatory Tzuyu.) Lyrically it could even be read as a continuation of “TT,” the members painting themselves as emotional messes at the mercy of the listener. The difference is in the potential for an alternate reading: Twice as emotional messes at the mercy of the audience, Twice given the opportunity to acknowledge the constant mental-health assault that is idol life. Everything feels like a careful signal (…bonae), from Jihyo as leader holding the camera and talking about the small screen, to the tourist-pristine presentation of Vancouver in the background, to Dahyun’s brief trap interlude, to the slouchier outfits of the dance-practice video. “Likey” doesn’t have to be Twice’s catchiest or most distinctive single when it can be Twice’s smartest. [7]

Alfred Soto: A haiku of romantic need, “Likey” recalls prime Stock-Aiken-Waterman in its concentration: boom boom boom it goes, its breathy vocals and hint of woodblock percussion leading the charge, until this time it knows it’s for real. [7]

Iain Mew: “Likey” is another proof for the interpretation that made me love “Cheer Up” – that it was a demonstration of what happens when you play along with a role with such absolute conviction that real emotions and portrayed emotions begin to blur. In “Likey” the same theme is both more heartbreakingly explicit lyrically, and present again in the music. There’s no fixed-grin mega-chorus this time, but bursts of a buoyant, colourful twist on the K-pop-house wave. Each chorus plays out like a perfectly presented social media life, splashing across all the complexities and effort they sing about going on outside of it.  [9]

Katie Gill: I’m a sucker for Twice. They’re a group that knows how to have fun, which shines through in their performances and sound, and I’m always here for their bright bubbly bubblegum pop. Add in those fun synths and an amazingly fun prechorus/rap break, and you’ve got a song that’s tailor-made for me to fall in love with it. I just wish that they didn’t hang the chorus on such an awkward phrase as “me likey.” [7]

Mo Kim: “Like is such a common word, not enough to express my feelings,” Mina laments in the chorus. Nayeon is more conciliatory: “But I like you, even if I can’t sleep, even if I’m late.” And Sana, by now a familiar and comforting presence, chirps back in ironic response: “Me likey, me likey likey likey, me likey likey likey.” It may be the best-executed joke in their entire discography: if there’s one thing that Twice has mastered, it’s the gap between what we know we feel and what we know how to say, and how that gap gets mediated through cinema cosplay, hooks as persistent as a lovestruck teenager, and alien soundscapes. “Likey” draws on all of those strengths, washing the anxiety of a social-media crush through pastel pink filters and emerging as the group’s surprisingly soulful thesis statement. [10]

Alex Clifton: A sugary-sounding song about a love/hate relationship with social media described in addictive terms. The struggle to project an ideal version of oneself on social media, to put effort into the perfect selfie, is nothing new, but I’ve never heard it described in a song in such opposite terms–yes, it’s a struggle; yes, it’s something we enjoy; yes, I need that rush of dopamine any time someone likes my posts to function. I’ve tried to wean myself off social media this year, but I’ve still felt the pressure to word things perfectly to gain the most appropriate attention. How do I make this funny? How do I make this unusual? How do I make this particular post–and, by extension, myself–wholly likeable? To hear it all jumbled so starkly in such a song–especially one that’s rigorously upbeat, one that could play in the background quietly and maybe slip out of notice as a standard pop song–is magnificent. [8]

Leonel Manzanares: I’ve always enjoyed how Twice likes to get busy, production-wise. This time there’s a fuzzy guitar intro joining a line of bubbly synths, a cascade of slow arpeggios in the verses, and even a half-time trap breakdown in the bridge. And I’m glad that the inconsistencies in their previous singles are a thing of the past, but why don’t they just sound as exciting as they used to? “Signal” was absolutely divisive, but was it really their creative peak?  [6]

Ryo Miyauchi: Out of all of the animated parts, Momo’s drive the story home. Her pout about makeup before the chorus goofs around as much as it runs frantic from all of the upkeep the girls have to do for that perfect Instagram picture. The others are more concerned to hit the right vocal spots to reveal just how much they’re breaking a sweat, but that’s Twice for you: the sugary beats and ditzy voices mask a deliriousness from all this need for attention. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: In virtually every aspect of “Likey,” production duo Black Eyed Pilseung capture the inwardly frantic yet outwardly calm nature of using social media as an avenue for affirmation. It’s more structurally complex than “TT” and “Knock Knock,” but more cohesive than “Signal” and “Cheer Up.” This middle ground proves apt, as the song’s constant innovations and driving energy mirror the constant shifting of attention one experiences while scrolling through endless feeds of content. One could argue that the pre-chorus’s winding melody brings the song to a halt, but this only bolsters the song’s conceit. Compared to the rest of “Likey,” the vocalizing there registers as conversational. But it isn’t long before we’re pulled away into the chorus’s onslaught of Twice-as-hell catchphrases, transfixed by the sound of people transfixed by their screens. It’s a statement in and of itself: how could the real world possibly hold up to the notifications that blow up our phones? The entire song is sprinkled with onomatopoeiac representations that drive home this half-serious point: applying BB cream and lipstick, a crowd of people cheering, an angelic choir praising us in the chorus. And the only possible way “Likey” could have started is with its blaring horns and bouncing synthline–fanfare fit for a professional athlete’s entrance music. We’re ultimately left with our prized possession: a “Heart! Heart!” notifying us that someone’s liked our post, our image, our self. Amusingly, it’s preceded by the girls singing the sound of a quickly-beating heart. It turns out both hearts are our lifeblood. [10]

Will Adams: The popular consciousness’s fixation on millennial culture has endured for so long that it’s become easy to identify the quality of each thinkpiece: Does it treat social media users with disdain, or does it take the time to recognize the benefits they attain from it? In a better world, “Likey” would have been the urtext, at once acknowledging the enormous pressure to look a certain way – sucking it in, angling light so hits you just so, swiping through filters – and the rush of seeing the appreciation come through in short, warm buzzes. Each line offers a different reading, mimicking how quickly we sift through the emotions, never quite resolving them. And we get those mixed feelings elsewhere: a “Heart! Heart!” hook that’s both annoying and endearing, a breakbeat instrumental that’s both ecstatic and wistful, and the moment you receive that like, both time-stopping and boundless. [7]

Maxwell Cavaseno: Contrary to popular belief, sincerity is never a pure answer. There is nothing less flattering to the human face than your own tears, gushing down your face, mixing with snot and drool over your whimpering pleas to make you look more like a slug than any person of desire (no offense meant to my invertebrate audience, as someone with far less of a spine). Nowadays, in the harsh kiln of radioactive beams from our webcams, phones, and any possible source of laser-like intense study, we’ve learned to fix rigid plasticine smiles and gussy ourselves up in the desperate hope for approval and kindness from even the most distant stranger. Try making it through the days when even the robocalls don’t hit you back. I don’t imagine anyone in Twice was spending their Hallow’s Eve like myself, hysterically laughing at my own reflection after slathering on gaudy amounts of makeup and facepaint in the hopes of the slightest sliver of approval (should I be wrong, please provide info in a corresponding email). But they are likewise burdened with the task of smuggling themselves into the day-to-day of their intended audiences. This group basically shattered me with Momo’s sobbing babble of a voice and our mutual insistence that hysteria “isn’t myself at all.” Now, in the same way, her voice echoes giggling pleas for attention, acknowledgement, the cheap reminder that yes, somebody up/over/out there might be fooled into thinking they like “me.” The blare of the flange-drenched VST horns and the percussions slip from the freestyle/Atlanta bass skips on the verses to the 4x4 bridge to the hesitant 130-BPM breakstep fills on the pre-chorus are not as triumphant as they are propulsive, hurriedly pushing oneself along further and further. For all the moments that shouldn’t succeed (the Migos flow breakdown and the weird gap before the final chorus threaten to busy up the record too much), it’s a perfect balance of charming leap and trembling flail forward, doing its best to never sound as starved a record as it is. That’s the genius of Twice at their peak form, that something so violently happy never betrays the insane loneliness and desperation at its core. We love you so much. [10]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox ]

[20qs20somethings]

Gabe, 26

1. Can you use three to five words to describe our generation? Dissatisfied, Driven, Creative

2. Talk about a person or an experience that has helped shape you into the person you are today? I think for me it was commencement in college. I went to Brown University and my parents showed up. Previously I had kept my life evenly divided. My social friends from school would exist in one realm and my family life existed in another realm. In that way, I could create these divides like latino culture and family life existed in one sphere and friendship and academic endeavors existed in another. 

For me, my identity as a gay man was always more open with friends and academics, I was very open with people in school, about who I am and I was less so with my family. When my parents showed up to commencement it was weird because it was the first time since my parents brought me to school. So we’re sitting down and the president was flagged by two things that were draped by the windows in the building behind her. One was the Brown University flag and the other was the LGBTQ pride flag and I remember my mom turning to me and saying, “Oh that’s a weird thing to choose to hang behind the President to welcome new students.” In my head, I was like, “that’s exactly why I’m here.” 

It was weird to feel that tension and to be in a moment where I sort of have to own it because these things are coming to a head. I can’t keep aspects of my personality separated and I think that moment was a weird catalyst for me where I was like, I have to invite my parents into this world and explain what it means to me instead of keeping a divide. I think that was a weird small first step in a lot of steps I later took as I became more comfortable with myself talking to them very honestly about things I wanted to do and my own identity. 

3. What’s you’re relationship with social media like? I love and hate it. I used to think Twitter was only good if you’re a celebrity or news outlet. Why would you want to read what people are doing throughout the day? But I’m realizing that social media is about how you use it. Yeah, there’s bullying, shitty language, and anonymous trolls, but it’s also a platform to reach people and engage people in terms of activism and in a message you’re trying to share. I think it exists in this intersection of entertainment media and journalism in a weird way. 

I think before, if you wanted to reach an audience it was through TV, movies, or news. Now you can build something from the ground up and it feels a little more democratic that if people like it, they’ll come to you and return to it. So i think there are pros and cons but ultimately, I think I’m embracing its advantages as a platform.

4. Selfies: Thoughts? I don’t take a lot of them. I have more lately which is interesting. I know a lot of my friends are really into owning the selfishness of their selfies because it’s a form of self care and encouraging them to be themselves and appreciate their own body and I think there’s something empowering about that. So I think selfies are fine, they’re silly and they’re good. It just depends how you frame things and how you view it. I think if you don’t put too much stock into how people on the internet receive you and you’re not obsessed with taking selfies to try to project some perfect image of yourself, then it’s fine. Embrace your face.

5. Who or what is your biggest motivator in life? My mom. My mom got an associate degree and had me at twenty. I can’t imagine putting aside my social life and being a frivolous young person to take care of a child at twenty, so infinite respect to my mom for those sacrifices. I think just seeing her drive in making it work within her means has always inspired me to push more and do more. 

So if I were a twenty year old with an associate degree, a crappy job, and I had a child, I don’t think I would’ve been able to push through those conditions the same way she did. So if this woman can do that, I can succeed when she’s laid out a red carpet in front of me to have those opportunities. I’ve seen what my mother's gone through and the sacrifices she’s made so that I can have better opportunities and a better life and I don’t want to take that for granted. 

6. Do you believe in love? I believe in love, I don’t necessarily believe in the way we’ve packaged ideas of love or the way we define love. I always want to push people to think of love beyond a romantic sense. I can love people that I’m not having sex with or want to marry. I love my friends, and sometimes I love my friends more intensely than I love people I’m in relationships with. I believe in love but I also believe in expanding the definition of love or the ways we can love. I think American culture is really eager to box in ideas of love or appropriate expressions of love. So yeah, I do believe in it, but I don’t think it’s like the stuff of Hollywood romcoms, I think it’s supporting your friends everyday and being there when someone is having a hard time, that's love, and I believe in the human capability to love. 

7.Fill in the blank: “Happiness is _______” What you make it. Making your own home, your own family, your own goals, and holding yourself to your own standards.

8. What are your thoughts on race? Racial difference is still a thing that exists in this country and as much as I love a world where we don’t have to talk about racial difference, we exist in a world where people are treated differently because of race. So yes, I think it’s something we have to keep talking about and it’s something we have to learn to talk about in honest ways because I don’t think we can move forward on the burden that comes with focusing on racial difference until we’ve owned our history and can truly create a world where people are not judged based on race.

9. Do you think you’re represented in things you consume in media? Yes and no, I think I’m seeing it more and more. I think it’s constantly changing so I think I’ve seen more latinx representation in the news certainly. Pointing to Maria Hinojosa, Soledad O’Brien, Maria Teresa Kumar, these are latinas who have really carved out a place for us to speak about our issues, queer activists like Jose Antonio Vargas, these are people I’ve seen as role models in the world of activism and not just engaging them but as people who were showing up in news and media. I think it’s so cool that people are turning to these activists as resources and voices to paint the full picture. So connecting with them through my work has been great, but I see people like that are changing it. So I want to support people who are changing the conversation and providing visibility in the right ways. 

10. Is college overrated? I don’t think an education or knowledge is overrated, I think college is overpriced. I think college is important to keep pushing yourself beyond what you thought possible or were normal. I really didn’t push the way I thought about the world until I got to college, I didn’t know the rich history of activism and struggle in Puerto Rico until I got to college and started pushing myself. 

So I think furthering your education whether that is at a traditional college, through a community college, through taking classes that are tailor made to what you need, whatever you want to do, I think it’s imperative to push your education beyond high school and it’s imperative to keep pushing the limits of your knowledge and experience. I don’t think the only place you can achieve that is at a college where you’re paying 50k-60k a year, but it was the best place for the things I wanted to do and I think I’m better for it. 

I also think it offered me an opportunity that taught me the ways I’m privileged and how I have to own and use that for the better. Because I didn’t really understand the privilege it was to go to a university and be able to get scholarships for that until I met people from other backgrounds, people I wouldn’t have met in high school or in my hometown and I understood the sacrifices they went through to get there. Oftentimes those sacrifices were more than what I had sacrificed so it put my life and my story into perspective.

11. Would you rather have security or fulfillment in your work? Fulfillment. I’ve been let go a couple times from jobs, I’ve seen other friends let go. I’ve felt very dissatisfied in some work that i’ve done and when that’s the case and even when I feel like I could get fired or even when I have been laid off, I’ve been able to build something I’m happy with. To me, work is about gaining valuable experience and building friendships and connections, and you can do that anywhere. And you can only do that if you’re satisfied and surrounded by people that are doing work that satisfies you. 

Fuck job security, if you can’t find job security in the company someone else has made, make your own thing. Go out and find a place that wants you. I think job security is overrated, if you haven’t pushed to get unionized in the workplace, you should always treat your job like you could be let go, and you’ll be owed nothing. So always have something that you own and that’s yours to fall back on or in your pocket. If you’re dissatisfied, then make it happen and be satisfied. 

12. What do you want out of this life? I just want to be happy and comfortable, honestly. 

13. What would you say is your biggest character flaw? Not taking enough risks. I think I get really comfortable in certain routines and I really have to build up to make those bold choices or take that leap. What I wish I could do more is own that choice and that impulse earlier. A lot of times I think it’s easy to get stuck in a daily, weekly routine. I’ll go through periods where I go straight home after work and write a few jokes, but I stay home. Part of that is a social anxiety because it’s comfortable, I’m in my home, it’s something I can control. So I want to give up control and take leaps so I think that’s something I want to do more of in the next few years.

14. What’s something that makes you angry? Bullying. If you’re making fun of someone because they’re different than you, like come on, it just speaks so much to your insecurities and it truly is helping no one.

15. Do you think our generation is too focused on being politically correct? I think there’s a difference between political correctness and civil discourse or kindness. I don’t think it’s wrong to push for kindness, I don’t think it’s wrong to treat every human being as if they are deserving of the same rights as everyone else. To me, political correctness is a word that means putting a spotlight on one issue at the disservice of everyone else. 

But to me, movements that focus on trans rights or black lives aren’t doing it at the disservice of everyone else. They’re saying “hey, most people or groups are offered this comfort in life and we would like the same thing. We would like you to be aware of the history of these words or ways of treating people.” To me, these movements aren't about policing language, people can say whatever they want, there’s nothing we can do to change that. When protesters, activists, teachers, students, kids ask you to call them a certain thing or speak to them in a certain way or encourage you to ask them how they’d like to be referred to, I don’t understand how that is a threat or risk or ruining our culture. 

It’s just opening up our world and vocabulary to be more inclusive of things. Saying we’re too politically correct is just an easy out to not hold people responsible for the impact their words can have particularly as politicians. Because while your speech shouldn’t be policed, you should be aware of the fact that as your speech as a public figure, as a politician, has impact. So in those instances you do have to push back. But to me, ultimately what people are calling for political correctness is just a push for kindness and open mindedness.

16. How do you want to be remembered? I would love for people to say that I taught them something and I made them laugh. 

17. What are qualities that you value? Honesty, a sense of humor, compassion, generosity, a sense of responsibility, self awareness, open mindedness.

18. What do you hope 30 will look like? I want to be able to build something from the ground  up, specifically something that can help give a playful or comedic platform to people like me. I know that I want to stay working in satire and politics. I know I want to keep giving a voice to the voiceless and I know I want to keep making people think about things that they otherwise wouldn’t have to think about or that they otherwise wouldn’t have been taught. 

19. What’s the hardest lesson you’ve had to learn? That your job doesn’t define you. I think while I was getting a degree and looking for work I was like, “I have to find something that’s perfect for me, speaks for exactly who I am, and lets me be true to myself.” and no job is going to give you that opportunity so long as you are working for someone else and collecting a paycheck, you will always have to temper something about yourself. 

I think it’s important to draw that line and realize that the sacrifices you make for a job don’t define you. If it feels like it’s getting to the point where it’s getting to you and the sacrifices you make for the job are making you less happy as a person, you’ve gotta let it go. I define myself as a writer, comedian, activist, but those things don’t define me. I think those are all aspects of my areas of interest and personality that contribute to a broader picture. 

Your first job out of college isn't going to be perfect and I really wanted it to be perfect. Make a few sacrifices but never let those sacrifices change who you are at the end of the day and don’t let your work swallow you whole. Every job is an exchange. Sometimes when people are celebrating a job, they might not have it a year later and they might be in a tough time or six months down the line they might realize it's not for them and transfer somewhere else.

20. What is the best piece of advice you want to leave the world with? Learn to laugh more. I don’t think laughter is always frivolous, I don’t think that laughing at something means you don’t care about it or you think it’s dumb or silly. I think laughter happens in many ways. We laugh when we learn something surprising, we laugh when someone looks ridiculous, we laugh when we’re really happy and I think owning and leaving room for laughter and joy will do so much work for making people happier.

[leawilliamsart]

A day in my life

‘But all you do is paint pictures all day, its not hard is it?’

If I had a quid for every time I heard this line i’d be pretty well off so I thought i’d actually keep track for a day exactly what goes on in my life on an average Monday. Buckle up!

8AM : Up and showered, prod the child to get out of bed, probably about 10 times before she actually gets up and dressed. Dogs sorted out, fed and watered, lunch made and ready for the off. Kind of…

8.40AM : School run. I actually hate it and the scramble to try and get on and off the car park in one piece.

8.55AM : On a good day i’m back home by this time, later if the council yet again decide to dig up the lights at the top of the hill for the twenty-fifth time this year. Brew and sit down with laptop to start prepping for the day – check social media platforms and set up scheduled posts for the week, prepare my images for the day that were prepped last week. Start to look at what i’d saved over the weekend, interviews or TV shows that I hadn’t seen or press clippings. What are fans looking at right now? Head back over to Facebook groups and see if there is any news or announcements. I question what I thought I wanted to do today, come across some images that arrived in the post last week that I had forgotten about and totally re write my days work. Give myself 10 images to play with and roughly gauge what effect I want to go for. Pack up my paints, laptop, paper, inks and whatever else I can cram into my boot. Package up some originals that have sold over the weekend and ring my printers to arrange for some print orders to be fulfilled and posted.

9.45Am :Head over to Winnington Hall. Bec’s hasn’t arrived in yet so prepare everything we need for the day, fill up all the water pots and set up my space. Look back over the past weeks work. Where did I end up? what was the flow? do I want to to continue with that or try something new? Usually with a continuation I can pretty much pick it from where I left off, but today I choose a new direction. Back to the images and changing my prep again….

10.30Am : Prep done for the 3rd time today. Becs is in now and we have a brew on the go. A set of Canvases drying which should be ready to use this afternoon. Looking at these blank canvases I can see exactly in my head what I want to do and how they ‘should’ look – Maybe I can turn this into a seperate collection? We start flinging some ideas about that covers backgrounds and techniques – wait – we can use that in class too! more notes for our up coming courses and classes.

11.45AM : Work is well underway for us both, music playing its a very relaxed atmosphere and ideas are bouncing around. Even though we are opposites with our themes, we can very easily feed of each others energy and thought processes. We have a visitor from the local college to come chat about what its like to be a working artist and how a studio works. Topics covered are things like marketing, how we work together, coaching and teaching and lots, lots more. The conversation quickly changes to the business side of art and just how difficult it is to make a living in this industry and the impact of social media on our careers.

1pm : Lunch. Working Lunch. Social media check – 3 emails to answer – and a planned meeting for Friday has just cancelled. Post a quick ‘work in progress’ shot to all my currently platforms, post a few questions in my class facebook group to find out what images they want to work on this evening. Time to grab our note pads and start to jot ideas down about what has to be done for the week ahead. How many do I have for tonight’s class, what are we working on, how much printing is needed? a stock take shows I need supplies for the night so its a trip to Northwich Art Shop for extra paint and a top up of my inks.

1.50pm : Back from town. Roadworks again! Back to actually painting. I manage to get 1 ink done and the basics down on 2 of the canvases. Start to think where and how to build this collection. Prints won’t work because of a metallic element, the scanner won’t pick it up. Maybe it’s a hand finished collection only? Maybe I can try something new!? Pick up the phone to my printer….. Yep, a new idea has formed and about to grow legs. This could be a really good piece to develop further.

3pm : Call in home to let the dogs out quickly and onto the school run.

3.20pm : School run done, post office next. I’ve built a great relationship with the team there which makes the trip a pleasant one rather than a chore, they are always passing on news that’s likely to affect my postal charges.

3.40pm :Back to the study with Ruby in tow. She has an ongoing picture that she is working on herself of a rather large donkey that she got inspired by from watching Bec’s and her brilliant animal pieces. Ruby is very tuned into her art and crafts, since I have been coming into the studio she has really been inspired to do well at school with her homework and turns all her tasks into a creative one. Even a small amount of time here has changed so many paths. Actually remembered to order more hard backed envelopes. Time for me to carry on with a bit more painting! I had set myself a target of 6 paintings by the end of the day – currently heading towards 5pm i’m way off that target…..

5pm : Home to cook for tea for us all. Shovel down my dinner as quickly as possible, scoop up all my supplies for tonight’s class that I had forgotten to pack this morning for class and print out additional pieces of work.

6pm : Back to the studio to prep for the evening class. Canvases out, paints, brushes, pallets and water all ready for the arrivals. This class is aimed and designed to be fun and relaxing. Generally they like to look at doing some kind of portrait. Just recently they have been bringing their own family pictures to work from which has been a challenge for them and me as some pictures are many years old and out of focus.

6.3opm : All students are settled in well and ready to crack on, some will bring work that they have been doing at home that we all take a look at give some feedback about. We have become a close knit little group, each one trusting not only me as a tutor but also their peers in gaining valuable feedback and suggestions about how they can take it to the next level. They are also looking at their artwork in a different setting and lighting perspective. Now that everyone is set up and ready to paint, I can pick up my own paintbrush and join in, pausing throughout the session to give advice and guidance to each student. Often I will be working with a different medium and different subjects which the group will pick up and try and add into their own work, stopping their own work and watching me demo a few techniques. This builds nicely into prep for the next class, they would like to try what I am working on themselves. I down tools and make some notes with Bec for next week.

8.30pm : As we are nearing the end of the class, i’m starting to pack away whatever isn’t being used and my own stuff. Time to take pictures of all my completed works and some snaps of what the group is working on. Upload everything to the relevant social media locations and our group. We start to look over our evenings work and assess the progress made. Some may finish their pieces, some may take theirs home to carry on – everyone works at their own pace and structure. No 2 of the group are the same, each has their own journey. I start to scan in all the paintings that I managed to finish.

9.00pm : Everyone is packing up ready to leave. We have a quick feedback session talking about what technique they want to develop further. Lots more notes to take forward to next Monday. Time to empty the bin, pack up the room and lock the doors.

9.30pm : Back home to the laptop. By now Ruby is in bed and (sometimes) asleep. Reply to emails and messages. A little more research for my projects, i’ve been thinking all day about what my printer can now do for me and have the images ready to send over to test.  Upload my completed work onto my website and adding links to my my social media. Within about 10 minutes 2 of the paintings I finished today have already sold so a few more emails to complete.  Each painting needs cellophane wrapping with my business card and enveloped up ready to post in the morning.  Set up a couple more scheduled social media posts to go out when I know I will be otherwise busy – its vital that I have at least 2 – 3 as minimum posts going out daily to ensure that i’m actually reaching people who want to see what is happening.

10.15pm : Laptop closed, time for bed….Not before checking in with my friends just to say hello. Read a few newsletters and see what my other artist friends have been up to today, its not unusual to find that artists are night owls and working/posting at similar times. I think the last time I look at the clock its 23.55pm.

This is just an average working day. Often I have to force myself to take some downtime and try and switch off, but, its virtually impossible when paying all your bills relies on the success of your business activity. I am VERY lucky that I have a good network around me that support what I do, without that then I wouldn’t be writing this now. I have a plan for where I want to be, and what I want to achieve. Building a career in the arts IS doable, however it doesn’t happen over night and comes at a huge cost, financially and personally. This is now my 5th year being self employed and truthfully its no easier or less stressful. It is however what I will be doing for the rest of my life, and I doubt I could ever go back to being employed in a conventional sense. So yes, I do paint pictures, I think I do it pretty well too, and I hope this dispels the myth that us artists ‘just sit and paint all day’

Until next time

Lea xx

A day in my life was originally published on Lea Williams Art