#I wish we saw them as the nerdy socially awkward friends that they are instead of... whatever that was

[weekendwarriorblog]

DEAR EVAN HANSEN Review: Much Better Than Expected, Mostly Due to Ben Platt and Killer Songs

I’ll admit that I never saw the musical, Dear Evan Hansen, on Broadway, and you would generally have a hard time getting me to see many Broadway musicals for no reason other than… well, they’re damn expensive, and I really need to be persuaded to go. So therefore, I missed the musical when it ran on Broadway. I didn’t pay much attention when it won a lot of Tonys in 2017 and won a Grammy for the cast album a year later, and then I just forgot it even existed.

Cut to a bunch of years later, and some wise individual, probably Steven Levenson, who wrote the book and adapted it for the movie, decided it would work as a movie. If you’ve seen the film’s trailer or any of the derision that followed it, you might think differently. The thing is that the trailer does a good job relaying the story as quickly and concisely as possible but doesn’t really get into the reasons why the movie is so good. That’s what we’re here to discuss in the form of my review.

The gist of the story is that Ben Platt’s title character, Evan Hansen, is a high school loner, awkward and inept with his only friend being the equally nerdy Jared (Nik Dodani). He shows up on the first day of school with a cast after breaking his arm, and he’s been instructed by his therapist to write “Dear Evan Hansen” letters to himself in order to work out his issues connecting with other people. Fellow student Connor Murphy (Colton Ryan) has a run-in with Evan and grabs one of said letters from a printer. A few days later, Connor’s mother Cynthia and stepfather Larry (Amy Addams, Danny Pino) show up at Evan’s school with the letter saying that Connor committed suicide, and they’ve determined that the letter “to Evan” was his suicide note. Instead of telling them the truth, Evan concocts an elaborate lie about being friends with Connor in order to sooth his parents’ misgivings about his death. In order to maintain that illusion, Evan continues to lie to them as well as to Connor’s sister, Zoe (Kaitlyn Dever from Book Smart), and his lie just snowballs. Pretty soon, the school’s social justice activist Alana (Amandla Stenberg) has up the Connor Project so that others who feel alone can feel seen and heard, and Evan has become hugely popular at school.

That might seem like a lot, but that’s all in the trailer. What’s missing from the trailer is why it was a wise choice NOT to recast Platt in the role he played on stage for five years, even though he’s now 27 and already 4 years older than his stage portrayal. Platt is a fine actor, but he’s an even better singer with a beautiful lilting voice that one imagines would be very hard to find a suitable replacement for. Heck, I’m not even sure they could sell this movie to the higher-ups at Universal if the movie wasn’t offering the promise of reproducing Platt’s Tony-winning stage performance.

The thing is that I watched Dear Evan Hansen, and I could totally relate to all of it. When I was a kid, I started out a bit like Evan and I eventually turned into something more like Connor. I was never lonely and had plenty of friends, but I was awkward and that eventually just turned into anger, and also depression would inevitably strike every so often. (Is it any wonder that by my 20s I was a Goth? If you’ve met me, then probably not.) But Evan also reminded me of a good friend of mine who was a lot like Evan and who passed away a few years back, leaving many questions unanswered. Even not knowing fully what happened to this friend, I’ve always felt that I hadn’t been there for him, and I wish I had been. Maybe if we had stayed in touch, he would still be alive, who knows?

Although a lot of the focus of the singing is on Platt and his quite beautiful voice, each of the other primary cast have some amazing singing moments, whether it’s Stenberg doing a song about feeling anonymous like Connor or the song, “Requiem,” that shows off the amazing singing prowess of Devo, Pino, and even Adams. Julianne Moore, who plays Evan’s hardworking single mother, even gets an absolutely epic number towards the end that will get the waterworks flowing if nothing beforehand has done that job.

The movie’s absolutely showstopper is the number “You Will be Found” (which is featured in the trailer and was featured in the TV commercials for the musical), and it’s another great example of how the songs by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul (La La Land) translate so well to the screen, and for the renditions by the film’s bigger name actors. After seeing the movie, I can fully understand why people might become obsessed with this musical and its songs.But it’s not all grief and teary dramatic slow songs either, because the movie also offers more than a few laughs, such as the song “Sincerely, Me,” which allows Colton Ryan to show his singing range in a very funny duet with Platt.

Director Stephen Chbosky has previously proven his prowess in making coming-of-age dramas, having had great success with his adaptation of Wonder (which I still haven’t seen) and before that, Perks of Being a Wallflower (one of my favorite movies of that year). That’s truly the case here as well, but Evan Hansen also shows that he has a strong grasp on social media, cyber bullying, viral videos, and even cancel culture and how it destroys people, including families.

Dear Evan Hansen brings out all the feels, and while I can understand why some people have issues with the story, I also can say that I have seen almost everything in this movie happen IRL, and these characters and the story feel very real, which is as much a testament to Chbosky as a filmmaker, but also his cast and the people behind the original musical. There’s a good reason why Dear Evan Hansen was such a success on Broadway, and all of that is retained by the movie.

Rating: 9/10

Dear Evan Hansen opens nationwide on Friday, September 24.

[fourteenacross]

octet - 5/25/19, 2pm

Hello, hello, I'm back from New Jersey! Which, you probably didn't even know I left, because I never post here anymore, but since we've yet to find a new platform for fannish happenings, I don't really have anywhere else to post show notes and the like.

Anyway, we saw Octet and Hadestown over the long weekend. I saw Hadestown at the NYTW in 2016, but I saw it the same day I saw Hamilton for the first time and my notes are lost to the ages. More about that later, though. (Tomorrow, probably.) For now, I'm going to focus on Octet.

So, here's what I knew about Octet going in: - Part of Dave Malloy's five year residency at the Signature Theatre - internet/discourse - Alex Gibson - a cappella? - support group?

The day before I did a little bit more digging, but I was kind of into going in blind, so I didn't dig too much.

Overall, I really liked it! My above the cut review is that, like all good Malloy shows, it brought up a lot of interesting concepts and shined a light on very relatable behaviors and ways of thinking. It doesn't really have a plot or narrative, and seems to largely exist to explore different types of internet denizens. As such, the characters vacillate between being actual people and being archetypes. I think all of this is fine--not everything needs to be a tautly plotted story, it's okay for this to be a song cycle, not a narrative musical. But I'm putting that out there for anyone who's thinking about going, just so you're aware when you head in.

First off, the set dressing is amazing. It looks just like a ratty church all purpose room, down to the way the light switches are labelled and the signs on the wall with clean-up instructions for group leaders. The walk in is papered with flyers advertising self-help groups, tutoring, charity walks, etc.

The show is set up like a support group meeting. A couple actors come in before the start and clean up the detritus of a bingo game and set up for the meeting, and then the group gathers and they begin. The group is “Friends of Saul,” and group members are told to put their phones off and in a basket against the wall, as they're here for various screen addictions.

Hymn: The Forest: This was a very Malloy song--it starts off a a meditation on a beautiful forest and takes a left turn. Delightful. Halfway through, Velma comes into the meeting and joins the other seven folks for the end of the hymn.

Refresh: Paula, the group leader, welcomes Velma to the group and tells them that Saul can’t be here this week, but he’s asked her to lead. She then asks if anyone wants to share. Jessica acquiesces and talks about how she was the subject of a viral video and has been "egosurfing" ever since, a compulsion to read all the shitty things strangers are saying about her without knowing her at all. (Unsurprisingly, Malloy says this song was heavily influenced by his feelings post-Comet.) Margo Seibert kills this song, which delves into our kneejerk tendency to pile on, sometimes without knowing or caring about context. It made me think a lot about how this goes both ways--the song focused on the negative, but obviously Milkshake Duck Syndrome is the same basic concept at its core.

Candy: Henry offers to share next. He talks about how his life is going okay at the moment, he's been on a few dates, but he hasn't had the heart to tell the guy about his "problem" yet, which is that he's addicted to video games. The song obviously invokes Candy Crush, but also refers to various other games including MMORPGs, FPSs, RPGs, and other phone puzzles games. I love this song--it is insanely catchy, Alex Gibson is delightful, and it's also profoundly sad and relatable. Henry eventually reveals that he uses games to avoid the real world and he's fairly sure he doesn't care if he dies, so he uses these games to string himself along and pass the time. Ouch. Also hashtag relatable content.

Glow: Paula shares next and talks about how she and her husband are both screen addicts and how they'll lie next to each other in bed, each on their own devices, ignoring the other, and how she wishes he would stop bringing the catastrophes of the world into their bed. She's lonely and sad and he doesn't see it because he doesn't look up from his phone. Starr Busby is incredible and, as a person who had to take an eight-month twitter break because she couldn’t handle the constant barrage of despair, I feel this song pretty hard.

Fugue State: Paula sets a metronome ticking for a five minute silent fugue state. The characters cycle through various thoughts about social media and the internet, calling out specific formatting for jokes and call out posts and "um actually"ing other people's comments in a whirlwind of commentary on how we interact with each other online. It's a very well put together song, but it's another one of those moments where it's clear this is a collection of songs about a concept rather than a narrative story.

Hymn: Monster: There's a five minute break, in which Henry approaches Velma, who's been quiet up to this point. She launches into a fast and awkward explanation of how she's on a self-imposed internet hiatus because she keeps getting tied up in discourse that's not good for her. She talks about being a part of a previous group that was not good and how she's since gotten into tarot instead, but there are parts of that group that aren't good, too (she delves into the Sephora Starter Witch Kit debacle), so instead she's taking a break and only talking to her one friend, whom she refers to constantly as "my friend." It was a very stark moment of self-recognition, tee bee aitch, and Velma is definitely the closest to the fannish millennial internet archetype. She says she found the group after Saul broke into a chat with her friend to tell her about it, so her friend said she had to come to check it out. After her monologue about all of this to Henry, the others return from their break to sing a hymn called "Monster" that talks about online trolls and how engaging with them and reading their exploits poisons your brain.

Solo: Karly and Ed alternate in this song, coming together in moments of similar sentiment. It's really an interesting way to handle the topics in question. Karly is singing about dating apps and how hard it is to find a dude who actually cares about her and the thin line between being asserting herself and the possibility of being the impetus for another MRA mass shooting. Ed, meanwhile, is a lonely dude who is on the verge of turning to the incel community because they can relate to his feelings of rejection and isolation. The whole thing is creepy and awful and very well blended--there's some empathy on both sides, while also making it clear how awful these dudes are.

Actually: This is Toby's song. Toby is a former punk kid turned conspiracy theorist. This is the song I struggled with the most. I just couldn't follow it narratively--I wasn't even 100% positive about the "conspiracy theorist" part until I could come home to read the lyrics. The lighting in this song was wonderful, though, and the ensemble was great. It just didn't click with me and it was harder for me to follow.

Little God: Dang, I loved this bit. It was the weirdest, and also had a distinctly Douglas Adams flavor, which was especially apt as I was attending the show on Towel Day. (So, honestly, it’s not surprising that I liked this bit so much, in retrospect.) Marvin, a neuroscientist, is up late with his new baby daughter when he has a vision from god. He chalks it up to a dream until god appears to him again the next morning. He goes to his lab, where all the other scientists have had a similar experience, and god appears to them in the visage of a little girl, whom they call Little God. They do a series of tests to prove whether god is real, and can manage to find scientific explanations for them all, trapped in this cycle of seeing wonderful things and then dissecting them clinically. Velma ends his story by telling him he's "The Hanged Man," the tarot card that represents everything one believes about oneself being flipped on its head.

Tower Tea Ceremony: The group starts a tea ceremony, passing around cups of tea, after which Paula comes around adding drops of something to the cups. Velma nervously asks what it is, and Paula calmly explains that it's a powerful group psychedelic that induces a five minute coma. Everyone else is chill with this, but Velma is visibly startled and nervous and does not drink her tea. Everyone else passes out, leaving her alone.

Beautiful: While everyone else is passed out, Velma sings her story. She was lonely and felt ugly and fat and stupid. She spent a lot of time alone and cut herself, but eventually found another girl just like her on the other side of the world. She had the same interests and liked the same things and felt the same way. She tells Velma that she's worthwhile and that there's light inside of her and, through seeing the same within her friend, she's able to start to accept that about herself. Kuhoo Verma is something else entirely on this song. It felt so personal and quiet and perfect. And, to be honest, it really anchored the show for me. After almost twenty-five years of being a nerdy, lonely kid on the internet, I tend to be very kneejerk protective of internet friendships. When people deride the internet as toxic, my urge is always to defend it because it's the source of all the good things in my life. I didn't have a lot of friends as a kid and I was socially anxious, but the internet was a way for me to meet other people who liked the same weird things I liked. These days that's a much more common, accepted story, but it was weird and new in 1996, so I spent a lot of years either lying about how I knew my friends or insisting that the internet wasn't just pedophiles and murderers. Obviously in the years since, the internet has grown into something bigger and, frequently, more toxic than I could have imagined at ten, eleven years old on the AOL Jonny Quest message boards. The urge to defend it has never gone away, however, and so I was obviously a little nervous about this show. But I trust Dave and I know that he's a big ol' nerd like the rest of us and doesn't pretend to be above our petty, silly forms of entertainment. And I'm glad I did, because it's important to me that this was the song he ended on--a quiet reminder that there's good to be found on the internet, that it's not all bad, that parts of it can be life-saving.

Hymn: The Field: The show ends with the group closing out their meeting with another hymn. Paula tells everyone next week’s meeting will be somewhere else and that she’ll email the details. Velma says she isn’t sure if she’ll come back, and she’s told that it doesn’t matter—the same people don’t always come week to week, but Saul will make sure there are eight people in attendance. The hymn is a nice, sweet song about coming together beyond the fighting and ugliness to appreciate each other and the world.

So, yeah, overall, I enjoyed it. I really needed to sit and think about it for a little bit after first seeing it, and I think repeat listenings will find a lot more to enjoy about it. Like I said, there’s not so much a story or narrative to get lost in, but the individual songs hold up well in the loose framework of the show, and a lot of them are both catchy and thought-provoking in a very Malloy way. I’m glad I got to see it, and I’m interested to see where it goes from here, if anywhere.

[april-lilies]

Sounds like you have some super cool stories for us, it its not anything too private. I think it would be super cool to hear about more stories with you and tokyo.

Oh my god, the thing is that I don’t even know where to start…so you’re going to get a general rundown of all of it. I apologize as some bits may potentially make people uncomfortable (I got molested while drunk at one point).

Strap in, this is going to be LONG, though I’m going to gloss over some bits. This all happened while also going to school Mon-Fri and some Saturdays all day. I’m also excluding most of the hanging out with my class friends because it was more just casual hanging out/bar hopping/nothing very exciting.

If anyone has any more specific questions about my experiences or Tokyo, please feel free to ask me.

The first weekend I was here I went to a gothy music event after going to a Buck-Tick gig. The BT gig ended at like 8:30 and I didn’t want to go home and I knew of the all night music gig. I was going to chicken out from going, but I decided to attend. That one decision set off all of this.

At the gothy music thing, I saw Auto-Mod and various alt DJs in the Tokyo scene. Some random western dude then came in and seemed to know everyone and eventually danced with me for a bit. He was just trying to get people to dance/get hyped up for the band. Figured that was that, but after the show he grabbed me and started introducing me to various people, mostly DJs including DJ Sisen. Turns out the dude runs his own club, and he and one of the DJs (who I will call Ossan #1) took me over to it. I got in free and drank free, chatted with people a bit there. Ossan #1 worked/works for Buck-Tick’s record company and we chatted about BT for a while. He was fucking shocked I knew them and had just come from a gig. It was wild to just…run into a random person and talk to them about BT at some length. After the club closed, the club owner took me out to breakfast at a lil place that you wouldn’t have ever been able to find unless you knew it was there and the cooks looked like yankis. Everyone was really nice and were shoving food at me for me to try. I didn’t get home til like 10:15 in the morning.

This was before Halloween and the club owner told me I should come to his big Halloween party at a big nice venue the next weekend, so I went because I am a curious mofo. Through the night I got hit on and pursued and bought drinks by various men, danced, and got kissed by like 5 people. Toward the end, Ossan #1 shoved me on stage to dance with some professional performer girls, which was pretty fun. After, I was invited to come to the after party and we split up to go in various taxis/or take the train. I took the train with another DJ guy, who then tried to take me home instead, to which I noped out and went to the bar where we were supposed to meet the other people. I just kinda hung around and left when I felt I could.

Next weekend was the weekend before Halloween and my closest class friend asked me to go out to an LGBT party with her (she’s a married lesbian). I said sure, but we ended up not going there and ended up going to a famous women’s only bar in the gay district of Tokyo. We did a nomihodai, which is all you can drink for a set time (at this bar it lasted two hours). Various people were hitting on my friend until she told them she was married and then the attention turned to me and it was the first time irl I’ve been hit on by women. It was an interesting experience and was fun. After, we left to go to an lgbt bar where my friend knew the manager. Drank there. Then decided to walk over to the bar where I know the club owner, since there was another Halloween party there that night too. BUT when we got there, my friend decided to go home and left me to the bar by myself. I was already pretty fucking buzzed by that point since we’d had a lot to drink, and then when I got to the bar, I met another DJ (who I will now call Ossan #2), who bought me like three shots, which we downed quickly. He went off and left not long after that. I didn’t know at the time, but now I think he probably left because he was drunk/he can’t handle much booze and the shots probably hit him. I was ok myself for a bit, but then the shots fucking hit me and knocked me on my ass. I blacked out drunk for the first time in my life. It was not fun and I don’t remember a lot. I know I got sick and I had a few nice people taking care of me. I’m really glad for them and that the people at this bar are generally very good people. When I was more conscious/sober but still terribly drunk, I found myself scared and alone on a couch in the bar. I noticed Ossan #1 (who was also very drunk) and he was the only one I recognized and I went to him because I wanted to be near someone I knew. That ended with me being drunk and confused as I realized he’d fucking shoved his hand up my shirt and pushed my bra away and was groping me. I was too fucking drunk to really do much. I was aware enough to pull his hand away when he kept trying to put it down my pants, at least. This was near the end of the party and at the end he tried to get me to go home with him and I was too drunk to really do anything, so I stared at the bar owner until he noticed me and came over. He fended off the Ossan DJ #1 and then had two of his friends escort me to the train station so I’d be safe. I regret getting as drunk as I did that night and will never, ever do it again, but it was probably a good lesson to learn.

Most DJs or club people I’d talked to a bit more and I had exchanged Line contacts, so later that week Ossan DJ #2 contacted me and asked me to go to a music festival the coming weekend with him. Again, I am a terribly curious person and said sure. He bought my ticket and went over to it together, grabbing some food and some beers at the venue (Poor dude said he was kinda drunk after two beers. One thing I like about japan is I can drink all the Japanese men I’ve met under the table.). It was more of a nerdy music/arts festival than anything, merging electronic art and imagery with electronic music. It was actually really cool and I wish we’d stayed longed, but Ossan #2 just kinda flitted around a bit from area to area in the venue (which was a cool museum). He eventually took me to a nice sushi place and we ate a ton and he paid for all of it. He then decided he wanted to go home and we split ways. To this day I’m still not exactly sure wtf he wants from me since he’s made no moves on me at all, but has asked me to hang out multiple times, though I’ve always been busy.

Next weekend I was out shopping and by the end couldn’t decide if I wanted to stop by the bar for a drink before going home. It was only like 8pm and I didn’t think there would be many people there and I didn’t wanna go by myself when there wasn’t a party going on (they start at ~11pm), but I decided to walk over to the area anyway before deciding if I was gunna go in to the bar or not. When I got there I decided no, and started to walk to the train station home. On the way, a guy who was clearly not a resident stopped me. He was a guy in Tokyo on business from Hong Kong and asked me if I knew any good bars in the area and if I wanted to go drinking with him. I said sure, only because I got to pick the bar and we were right by the one I was comfortable with. Drank with him for a while and responded with disinterest as he kept hitting on me and trying to kiss me/etc. he was kinda drunk already and luckily at one point he fucked up and called me the wrong name, to which I fucking roasted him. It was getting near 11pm then and I had permission from the bar owner to stay a bit later without having to pay the entrance fee for the upcoming party and I basically told the guy to gtfo since he’d have to pay if he stayed any longer. After he left I stuck around and socialized for like an hour before catching one of the last trains home.

Next, I decided to go to another kinda gothy DJ/performance event at the same venue as the one I’d first gone to. I didn’t really know anyone there (I had met a few of the DJs before, but nothing to the level they’d really remember me), so I just kinda hung around by myself and danced a lil. Annnd then Ossan DJ #1 came in. It was a dance of awkward small talk, standing on opposite sides of the room, and avoiding each other. Eventually at he end of the night, the club owner I know showed up and he ended up taking me and introducing me to more people and got me to socialize a bit. At one point when he’d gone off to socialize with some others, Ossan #1 finally came up to me at the bar and was like ‘So……..you’re mad at me….what did I do?’. I thought he was avoiding me because he knew he fucked up the last time, when in reality he was avoiding me because I’d been acting cold to him all night and he didn’t know why. He didn’t remember what he’d done and I got to inform him of it, to which he tried to make me stop and shush me and tell me to keep it a secret. I was not shushed. Eventually bar owner came back and we went over to his bar, which was frankly pretty boring this time. When we were leaving, another club owner stopped me on the street and said I looked like Boy George (which was a comment I got about 5 times that night because of my make up/hat combo. it was completely an accident) and she got my Line info and asked me to play Boy George in an 80s night she will be doing in March and was very happy to find me because she already has a guy who plays Pete Burns for her. We’ll see if she ever actually contacts me about this again. When I went to say goodbye to the bar owner after she was done talking to me, he introduced me to a friend of his and told his friend to ‘take care of me’. I didn’t know what the fuck that meant, but he took me out to breakfast and we just chatted. It was nice and the food was fucking amazing traditional Japanese grilled fish breakfast set.

Sometime during the next week (on a school night) went to a Kaya gig where he sang Schwarz Stein/Femme Fatale/solo work accompanied by piano and violin. It was a very lovely little show in an intimate bar.

Ok, now this I’m not exactly proud to admit, and you may judge me as you like, but I messaged Ossan #1 the next week and told him I’d forgive him for what he did one time and asked if it’d be ok for me to go to the event he was DJing that night. I knew we’d run in the same circles and that I’d keep seeing him and I wanted to clear the air. He said yes, that he was relieved, and that he’d never touch me again (which he has indeed kept his promise on and has backed off from anything more than some verbal teasing). The event was at a very nice little bar I’d never been to before. There was supposed to have a cover charge, but I waltzed right in and the staff like gestured to Ossan #1 like ‘ah you’re here because of him.’ He bought me a drink and then proceeded to introduce me to some people there, including a couple. The wife spoke very good English, and it turns out they run a large fetish party in Tokyo and that Ossan #1 DJs for it. Apparently Ossan #1 introduced me to them as sort of an apology and had suggested to them that I model for their next fetish party, to which they liked the idea. I ended up chatting with the wife most of the time, and I have to say she was THE SWEETEST. The DJ event at this bar only lasted until 1am and trains don’t start again until 4-5am, so I had intended to walk 45min to the bar I know the owner of and stay the rest of the night there. Instead, I was asked to go to Harajuku to a bar with the couple, Ossan DJ #1, and two girls who were at the bar (one of which was one of the girls I’d danced on stage with at Halloween, but I’m not sure she remembered me). I said sure, and the couple paid for all my drinks at the first bar and then we hopped in taxis, which I also didn’t end up paying for at all. At the bar in Harajuku, the couple took us up to the private floor and a waiter immediately came and served us all champagne. I was sitting on the end at first and everyone was talking in Japanese and I just kinda observed, until the wife noticed and moved from her husband to come and sit by me and talk with me ;___; Lots of champagne and silly chatting was done (and I guess planning for their next Fetish party, but that was done in Japanese) and turns out the wife was really into BT/Sakurai when she was a teenager, so we chatted about that too. Overall, it was really, really fun and the wife invited me to their private Xmas party in a few weeks. After, we all hopped in a taxi and they had it take me over to the bar I normally go to and paid for it for me. I don’t remember a whole lot because I’d been drinking a fair bit, but I know I kissed one of the bartenders, and idk how the fuck that happened. At the end, I somehow also ended up going out for a ramen breakfasts with a bunch of French people, who ended up paying for my food for some reason.

During the next week, for some reason I decided to go over to the bar when the bartender I’d kissed was working. I’m not exactly fucking sure why, I think I just wanted to see how he acted and to see if that had actually happened. We chatted a bit about music and it was really pretty awkward since we were the only ones there at first and his English was bad as is my Japanese. Eventually more customers came in and he was attending to them, but turned the music system to playing Soft Ballet since I’d mentioned I like them. And then this older dude from Belgium came in and came over to ask to drink with me because he was glad to see another Westerner there. We ended up chatting for a quite a while and he bought me drinks the whole time. Eventually his friends came and he left and I needed to catch my train and I went to leave. To which the bartender came out in the hall and kissed me while I was waiting for the elevator, which then confirmed that shit had indeed happened the last time I’d been at the bar. I still have no fucking clue why he and I ever kissed the first time.

The next while was spent mostly on school and trying to find something to wear for the Xmas party. Like what the fuck do you wear to a fancy dress party run by people who organize Fetish parties??? And also I was curious how it’d go because both Ossans were on the guest list. Anyway, eventually that came and Ossan #2 was super surprised to see me because he had no idea how the fuck I got involved in this group/how I got involved enough to be invited to the Xmas party. He and I chatted and hung around until he had to leave to DJ at another event (which was supposed to be the after party for the Xmas party, but we didn’t end up going). After he left I kinda just…awkwardly introduced and passed around to various Westerners/Japanese who spoke English there. I don’t think some were very thrilled to talk to me/felt like they were baby-sitting. It was funny though, at one point I was asked which DJ/man there I ‘belonged to’ and the woman seemed to think it was badass that I said I don’t belong to anyone. At one point I talked with the host couple a bit too and they expressed that they were trying to figure out what they wanted me to do for their Fetish party. I didn’t know exactly what that meant, and I still don’t. Eventually a half American, half-British guy came up to me and we ended up chatting most of the rest of the party. He was really chill and bought me some curry, lol. The party was officially over, but most people stuck around to keep drinking and socializing and were getting more drunk. Ended up chatting with Ossan #1 a bit and with the host lady. Also, for being a party run by fetish people, the most kinky thing that happened was someone getting spanked a bit at the end, so it was a lot less weird than I thought it might get. A group from the party, including the host couple, decided to go to a restaurant near by and the half-Brit guy and I decided to go along. We hung out most of it but later regretted going b/c it was a flat fee we were all charged to be there and eat/drink, which was about $50. I didn’t have enough money on me at the time and the Brit guy took pity on me and decided to pay for mine since he knew I was a student and had no income. I told him I’d pay him back, but he refused. We also ended up being silly and eating slices of wagyu steak with our hands because we didn’t get sliver wear and it was some stupid protest at the time over how expensive it was. Idk, it was dumb but fun. Eventually we hopped a taxi and he went home and I went to the bar I always go to to wait for the train. Nothing very exciting happened there other than a drunk bartender kept giving me rice balls for free. I guess the day after the host lady messaged the Brit guy to ask if I’d gotten home ok ;____;

The next few weeks I just focused on getting through school/finals, which was admittedly rough and came with a bit of a breakdown towards the end. One week night I did end up going out to dinner with the club owner, which mostly was just him talking about politics the whole time. We went to a bar in the gay district for a few drinks after since I guess he liked the particular gay bar, despite not being gay. Idk, he still mostly talked about politics, which is not a topic I really enjoy discussing. Another night I ended up going out to a café with the Brit guy, as well. It had intended to be me studying and him working on translation work, but we mostly ended up talking and gossiping about the people in the club scene. I guess he’s been in the scene for ~10 years and yet I’ve managed to infiltrate it and meet more people in two months than he had in years 8| Not that I was trying to do that, it was all a bunch of accidents. Also near finals I went to a music gig of Auto-Mod/Der Zibet/Loopus. I regret not sticking around to socialize at the bar once the show was done, but I had Saturday class the day after.

Finally got through finals and went out with my school friends for the last time before most of them left since they were staying only one semester (thankfully the girl I went out with on Halloween is staying and she’s the person I’m closest with at school). ANNNNNNND the next day picked up Riki (@crimsonmaggots) from the airport. That night I’d been invited to parties both by the club owner and by the fetish party lady, but Riki and I were both exhausted and stayed home. He stayed with me over my break and we did a bunch of stuff. I’ll mention some notable ones that relate to my social life or music.

We went to Yellow House, which is a shop run by the woman who has been dressing many visual kei bands since the very beginning/her shop has been around 37 years. It’s tiny but the walls are plastered with old band flyers, posters, and polaroids of her with band members through the years. I def freaked out a bit over her old pics with BT and she had a sticker banner thing from the original DIQ in ’89. If you’re ever in Harajuku and are into VK, I suggest you stop by and at least talk to her. She’s a gem and a spitfire of an old lady. It was a religious experience; especially for Riki since the lady basically dressed him in a perfect coat and also he ended up buying one of the same shirts Imai had bought from the lady.

We also went to Buck-Tick’s tour finale, which was FUCKING FANTASTIC. We prepared like the entire day to make sure our looks were on point before going to the gig. It was so fucking good and I ended up getting us 4th row seats since I’m part of Fish Tank. People danced the entire gig and it was super fun. He and I also ended up in the crowd a few times on the live broadcast of the show. After, we hit up a restaurant for some beef stew omurice before heading to the bar I always go to for the weekend’s party. Which happened to be hosted by Takuya Angel this time, who thanked us for coming. It was a small party and we mostly just hung out and danced. The bartender who I had kissed the one time did like try to be a bit close to me at a few points, but I think got salty and avoided me after seeing that I was there with Riki, since I guess he thought we might be involved. Also the club owner randomly showed up and made two big posts of Chinese stew and gave it to all the guests for free??? It was an odd night, but fun.

On New Year’s we decided to go to a sort of gothy, black-themed New Year’s party. Unfortunately, we left kinda late and I didn’t think about how Shibuya would be fucking PACKED on NYE, so we were stuck jammed in a crowd when the year changed. Eventually we made it to the party and were met by a warm welcome from a DJ lady who was also there. She runs a shop in Harajuku we’d stopped by previously where she was super nice and let us try on corsets. Otherwise, I had been introduced to a few people there before (such as the woman who was running the party, I met her at the Xmas party, but I don’t think she remembered me), but wasn’t exactly on close enough terms to feel comfortable chatting with any of them except Ossan #1. Most of the night was spent dancing our asses off, people watching, and drinking. The performer girl who I had danced with at Halloween and who had been around at various other events was there too and she ended up dancing with me a bit and eventually dragged me and Riki up on the stage to dance with her and her friend during the last DJ set (which was Ossan #1). Idk how long Riki was up there, but the girl and I ended up dancing on stage together for quite a while

Various other adventures were had while Riki was here and he just left yesterday and now I’m fucking sad he’s gone.

I start school again tomorrow and that’s where I’m at with things. There’s a party this weekend at my typical bar where Ossan #1 is DJing….we’ll see if I go or not. We’ll see what happens with the fetish party. We’ll see what the fuck happens with my social life. All I know is this is far from over.

I applaud you if you read this all.

[azariaspace]

In which I make a BIG TEXT POST about my most recent relationship (of what kind?  who knows) drama for all those who are interested, chronicling as much as I can

THE FALL:

1.  I join Calvin Theatre Company.  CTC is dope.  CTC casts their fall play -- I decide not to audition because I have a busy fall and want to adjust to college first, but the object of my affection (I’m calling him Jared because for some damn reason when he first texted me his number he introduced himself to me as Jared and now Siri keeps trying to call him that.  It’s not his real name, though.) gets the main male role.

2.  In CTC, if you’re not in the cast, you have to be on a crew.  I get assigned to the Set Construction Crew.  When I show up to work, I find out that there’s also a bunch of people who are Scene Shop Employees.  Lo and behold, Jared is one of them.  I work for two hours on Mondays and three hours on Fridays, and Jared is always there when I am.

3.  I have the biggest crush on my RA for most of the semester, but Jared and I like working together (I like working with him more than anyone else -- at first I assume it’s because I actually know him from CTC, but maybe it’s something else -- and we switch between roasting and encouraging each other pretty frequently.  We also develop a banter outside of that that’s super cool.)

4.  I go see our fall production, and that’s when I start subconsciously asking questions about how much I like my RA and how much I like Jared.

(Bonus stories:  I find out he’s ethnically Jewish, and I’m one of the few people who knows enough about Jewish culture to understand his Jewish jokes.  I’m also outed as nonbinary to him after the show I watched by a friend, who we’ll call... Tall Gay Boy?  My friends know who he is, and nobody else needs to.  Anyway, he took it well at the time, but has clearly forgotten, because Tall Gay Boy also talked about pronouns and Jared has not been using those pronouns.)

THE INTERIM:

1.  During interim, I realized I was over my RA.  I also realized that I had really strong feelings of some kind for Jared.

2.  I was a bad first-year student and didn’t take the type of class I was supposed to during interim.  Instead, I took the theatre class.  Jared didn’t, but he was still working in the scene shop.  I was assigned to light crew.  We worked around each other, but some days we did the same stuff.  The banter continued.

3.  I got my first hug from him.  I got three hugs from him in one month.  Perhaps it was just because it was an emotional show and they were all after watching it, but still.  He is the best hugger I have ever encountered.

4.  In the middle of interim, he said he would kill to have me in the scene shop again.  At the end, I was joking about not wanting to start working because I didn’t like who my coworkers would be without telling him where I was working, and he said I should preemptively quit, and I then revealed where I was working, and he went on a five-minute speech about how I should give it a chance.  In front of other people.

Bonus things:  this was when I first noticed how good his beard is.  This was also when I first started talking about him with other people.  And other people like him and like me liking him.

The Spring (as of March 2nd):

1.  Jared has reduced his hours to 2.5 hours one day a week because he has a real job as a real professional marketer in the real world.  I work 4 days a week.  (We do work the same day.)

2.  Jared and I also are in the same religion class 3x a week (whenever he comes) and will be on the same run crew (meaning we’ll spend every night for two weeks together with only two other people -- and like the rest of the show).

3.  Like I said, his attendance at religion is questionable.  So I got his number to text him notes (sure).  And I saw that he was texting someone with the ❤️  emoji in the conversation (on his side, I believe), but got his number all the same.  In addition, I heard from other people that he’s single.  So he’s either liberal with his emojis or secretive with his relationships.

4.  When he’s there, the banter is exactly the same as it was last semester, except stronger.  And I’m pretty sure it’s now entered the flirting territory.  He’ll give me random pieces of scrap wood, and then I’ll ask how long I should keep them, and he’ll say five minutes, and then after five minutes I’ll throw them back at him.  He lets me steal his hat.  I apparently was the only person to wish him Happy Purim yesterday.  We texted about his broken car for three hours today.

5.  A TEXT SAYING “I love how misplaced your trust is.”  (Listen I dunno why this is so significant to me but it is.)  (Also in context we’re talking about his car don’t think I can’t trust him.)

Bonus Material:

1.  When I made this post,

I have to come out to the scene shop kids.  Because they somehow all didn’t find out during the great coming out crusade of last semester. And a friend of mine is working in there for his scene shop hours, and he volunteered to have the awkward conversations, but the one kid I want to find out most doesn’t work when the kid who’ll have the conversations works.  So.

it was about Jared (and Tall Gay Boy as my friend).

2.  When I made this post,

rules: tag 9 people u wanna get to know better Tagged by: @lumos-of-pi relationship status: Single Pringle. Getting over a pretty long-term crush and feeling out some others, also think maybe one or two people have flirted with me (there may have been some overlap between crushes and flirters — I’m unsure), pretty tired of loneliness

it was about Jared (and my RA).

3.  When I made this post (featuring the tags),

I’m writing songs again! #I HAVEN'T WRITTEN ONE IN LIKE 5 MONTHS? #I HAVEN'T WRITTEN A GOOD ONE IN LIKE EVER #BUT I'M EXCITED #IT'S A LITTLE GARBAGE BUT WHATEVER #IT'S IN ITS EARLY STAGES #ALSO I'M LISTENING TO NEW GENRES SO THAT'S PROBABLY GONNA INFLUENCE IT #ALSO HOW VAGUE DO SONGS HAVE TO BE IF THEY'RE POSTED TO THE INTERNET? #PROBABLY MORE THAN THIS

it was about Jared.

4.  These posts

I like a very handsome boy man child person. The hot guy from the theatre department. Rumor has it he’s a senior or a super senior; rumor also has it he’s a junior in years and a sophomore in credits. Strong rumors and Instagram snooping point to a transfer. He either is or just used to be a big flirt; he may have a girlfriend (different social media say different things, and I’ve never heard her mentioned). I was outed to him and he’s chill and he’s chill in general and either flirty with everyone or flirting (different from being a flirt; this is nice while his past/possible present is douchey). I’m definitely flirting with him and I don’t know if he knows; if he does, he hasn’t let on.

“I’m an enigma, [Azaria],” he says.  Is that a challenge?

Also he’s a junior who took a gap year to backpack around Europe.  Um.  Excuse me.  (Though there’s hesitation about whether he should be counted as a junior or not; perhaps because he’s as old as the seniors or perhaps because he would be a junior without the gap year so they let him do his thing.  But I believe the former.)

Also I’m now going to be working with him three days a week so #yeet.

are both from a private tumblr I have just for venting but are both about Jared.

Also this is not a post but I made a playlist of songs from the scene shop (and some not) that remind me of him.  That’s a thing I do for people and events anyway, so it’s not as creepy, but it’s still a little creepy.

He's so kind and thoughtful and funny and smells really good and he's smart and I like his beard and he's nerdy and I wish he wouldn't be so self-deprecating because there's this light in his eyes and this light he brings everywhere and he's so encouraging and he's short-minded but it's because he juggles both as a metaphor and actually.

Like what kind of guy juggles?

The Future (as far as I’m Concerned):

I want to date him, and so low-key I'm looking for advice on how to make that happen with 100% certainty, but I guess I'm just throwing this into the void to get it out of my head (and for my friends to see).  Mostly, I’m doing my best to enjoy this as a friendship, to appreciate that it might be more, and to give it time and him signals while not pressuring him.

[spacebitchhowell]

Bonca

Title: Bonca

Warnings: Smut, a bit of angst, self deprecation, gross amounts of fluff/love, body worshiping, some dirty talk, I don't edit shit so that is a warning too.

Summary: Dan was the only one surprised by Phil calling him up to share his award with him and he was the only one who didn't think he deserved it.

"I've spent the majority of 2016 with another person..."

Dan rubbed his eyes again, running his hand from his eyes to the back of his neck to just rest it there as he gazed out of the window of the taxi. Him and Phil were on their way to the small after party that many of their friends were going to and he should have been more excited. Phil was excitedly talking to people on his phone, telling someone that they are on their way all the while holding onto Dan's hand and rubbing his thumb gently over the top of it.  

"Dan Howell...I think it is only fair that he shares this with me."

Phil knows he gets nervous at social events like this, without the comfort of the familiar nerdy atmosphere of their apartment. He always worries about what he looks like, if he will say something stupid, or the fact that he will inevitably make a fool of himself. He probably thought that while doing all the planning and updating he needs to also comfort Dan. Give him some sort of reassurance, to let him know that he isn't alone and Phil will always be there for him.

"We can saw it in half."

Phil was weird, he was socially awkward and he said things that would make Dan cringe or face palm. However, no matter how absurd his outbursts were, Phil would just laugh, his eyes crinkling and his tongue poking out between his teeth and suddenly it wasn't embarrassing at all. Everyone would just laugh along with him and fall for his charm and bright blue eyes. He probably thinks that Dan is worried about the party, when in fact he can't stop replaying what happened at the Boncas in his head. Phil standing up on the stage and receiving his award with such a bright smile, looking so smart and handsome... Dan remembers how excited he was to hear Phil's voice, how he jumped up and screamed at the top of his lungs, eyes watering because he felt so proud of his boyfriend. He knew that Phil deserved it, he deserved more recognition and a hell of a lot more subscribers but he was always so gracious, so thankful for what he was given. He never was greedy and he never took anything he got for granted but only pushed on with more determination to do better. So, of course he fucking deserved that award...he just didn't expect Phil to call him up on stage.

Sure, they had done the tour together, they were constantly in each other's videos, and even had a side channel that included the two of them all the time...but he didn't expect that. That was Phil's award, he deserved the whole award and then some because without Phil there would be no Dan. Phil was the one who held Dan when he cried, pulled him up off the floor and gave him the strength to keep going. He was constantly building Dan up, whether he was consciously aware of it or not, and he quickly became not only the most important thing person in Dan's life but was also the main beam in his support system. Did he think that Dan would feel insecure about his own content because that was the only award that wasn't given to the both of them so he called him up too? Did Phil feel guilty about winning that award? Dan's heart clenched painfully, Phil deserved that award and Dan did not. Dan did not deserve any percentage of that award and that much was obvious. This brought up some weird mix emotions settling in his stomach, making him feel sick when not a drop of alcohol has touched his lips yet.  

Dan squeezed Phil's hand once, trying to convey that he is ok and everything is absolutely fine even though nothing was fine. Dan was quickly falling down the rabbit hole of self-loathing and there was nothing to stop him but Phil's warm hand intertwining their fingers together.  He swallowed hard, this isn't fair to Phil at all. He just won three wonderful awards (two of them had Dan's name on them but that wasn't important), he will want to celebrate and he should. Dan needs to pull his head out of his own ass and try to be supportive of Phil for once in his miserable life. Dan tore his eyes away from the passing scenery to look at Phil who just hung up the phone, informing whoever it was that they will be there soon. Phil turned to look at Dan and his expression softened, bordering on worry.

"Dan..." He hesitated and pulled Dan's hand over to his own lap so Dan was leaving closer to Phil, "are you sure you even want to go out? I would be just as happy celebrating with just the two of us at home with some take out and anime."

Dan's heart jumps, feeling excited at the idea of having Phil to himself in the safety of their own home, however it completely dropped back to his stomach so fast it made bile rise in his throat. He smiled, hoping it doesn't look fake and brought Phil's hand up to gently press his lips to the pale skin.

"I know you want to go out Phil." Phil opened his mouth to interrupt but Dan quickly continued, "Besides, we don't get out often enough to see our friends. I mean, how long has it been since we saw PJ? This is a big night, we should celebrate with our friends...at least for a little while."

Phil's worried gaze softened, his eyes shining with such obvious love it made Dan's head spin with pleasure and despair.

You don't deserve this life.

You don't deserve Phil.  

You don't deserve to be loved by someone so wonderful.

You just don't deserve to be loved.

"I love you so much Dan." Phil reached his other hand around to cup Dan's cheek and pull him into a quick kiss, never being one for too much PDA.

Dan swallowed hard, pressing closer to Phil, wishing for him to distract him from the ugliness of his mind with his own bright and beautiful one. He pressed forward when Phil pulled away to place one more lingering kiss on his lips, not quite ready to separate just yet but understanding the driver probably won't appreciate them snogging in the back seat.  

Phil caressed Dan's cheek and just stared into his eyes, making it impossible for Dan not to whisper back, "I love you too."

The moment was broken when the driver pulled up to their destination and Phil was pulling Dan out, allowing his arm to wind protectively around Dan's waist once they were safely inside their friend's house. Dan leaned into Phil, finding comfort in his touch (which was probably the reason Phil was doing it instead of hugging everyone and their brother) but that sticky dark feeling was still growing, festering in the back of his mind. Dan gladly took a drink from someone and quickly downed it, laughing awkwardly as Cat teased him but pressed another one in his hand without question. Dan was grateful for his friends, he really was and found himself loosening up enough to be able to detach himself from Phil to go and mingle with some friends he hadn't seen in months. It was actually really nice, the burning alcohol was doing wonders to numb every part of his mind, even the pressing darkness was reduced to a dull ache at the base of his skull.  

"….and you two are just so cute."

Dan blinked slowly, looking next to where he was sitting on a couch to Louise curled up in a chair with a bright smile, "Wait...what?"

She laughed, moving her hair out of the way and sipping her drink, "Goodness Dan, already had a bit too much to drink? I said you and Phil are just too cute together."

Dan smiled at her compliment, looking down and shyly running his hand through his hair, glancing over at Phil was just across the room telling, what looked like, a very interesting story to anyone who would listen. "Yea," He breathed, "I really am lucky."

Louise tutted, "He is lucky to have you too! It is just so cute how you both work so hard and still share everything."

Dan felt his throat constricting, that dull ache at the back of his head was getting stronger, "Y-yea?"

"Well of course! I don't have the faintest clue why they wouldn't have just given all three awards to you both! I mean it was obvious that was how it would work out anyways."

The great thing about alcohol was it had the ability to dull thoughts or feelings that are at the back of one's mind, however, the reverse was true as well. It had the nasty habit of amplifying bad feelings at the front of the mind as well and Dan found himself feeling like he was drowning now. He swallowed hard, his throat feeling too dry but now the alcohol felt like rocks in his stomach that were threatening to boil out. Louise continued to chat happily with the others sitting around them, too tipsy to notice Dan's ridged shoulders or watery eyes. Dan's eyes found their way back to Phil, looking at his bright smile as he laughed at whatever was being said in his group. Phil was bright and happy, an actual ray of sunshine who wouldn't hurt anyone and deserved the best the world had to offer. Dan was a far cry from the best the world had to offer, in fact he wasn't even close. Why on earth was Phil waiting his time with someone like Dan when he could be with someone more attractive, someone funnier, someone who wasn't constantly falling down and needing to be picked back up again. Dan was weak, he was pathetic and needy. He couldn't do anything right and yet everyone insisted on being so nice to him, telling him that he works so hard when he is nothing but a lazy asshole who used Phil to get popular and keep that popularity. He was starting to feel dizzy and the room around him was starting to get blurry, oh great and now he was probably going to pass out because he is always so fucking dramatic!

"Dan?"

Stupid...stupid!

"Dan?!"

Worthless, overdramatic, stupid piece of-

"Dan!"

Dan jumped, realizing now that Phil was right in his face, sitting next to him on the now empty couch and gripping his arms. Dan opened his mouth to tell Phil to not look so worried, that he was fine but then he felt the tears slipping from his eyes and down his cheeks. Oh great, of course, he was crying...now Phil wouldn't accept any excuse. Phil wiped his tears gently and kissed under each eye lid before quickly getting up and talking to the owner of the house before returning briskly to Dan to take his hand and pull him towards the door.

"Phil, I'm fine really! I was just staring off into space so hard I forgot to blink." The lie sounds so obvious and Phil's hurt expressions tells him he knows it too.

"We are going home Dan, don't worry. I am here."

Dan was trying to reassure Phil that everything was fine while Phil was gently pulling him through the door. "Phil, really, I am completely fine. Don't worry!" He even forced a small laugh to try and get Phil to stop looking at him like he was someone who needed to be protected. Like he was someone who deserved his love and protection.

Phil didn't say anything until he pulled Dan with him into their bedroom, turning around to stare straight into his soul. "Dan...what is wrong?"

"Phil, I told y-"

Dan was cut off by Phil grabbing his waist and pulling him closer to connect their lips in such a deep, loving kiss it was making Dan's insides feel knotted. "Dan," Phil murmured against his lips, never breaking eye contact, "please tell me what is wrong bear."

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the kind loving way Phil caressed his face and just held him against his body but Dan's façade was quickly crumbling. He closed his eyes and buried his face into Phil's shoulder just in time to muffle a particularly loud sob as tears found their way down his face again. He threw his arms around Phil and clutched onto his suit jacket like his life depended on it and Phil held him just as tightly while kissing his head and whispering soft "I love you" and "I am right here" into his ear which only made Dan want to cry harder. He sniffed and pulled away a bit, looking away from Phil while his hands rested on Phil's sides.

"I don't deserve any of it."

Phils brows furrowed in confusion, cocking his head to the side, "What?"

Dan looked at Phil, eyes full of tears and a sharp pang of pain went through Phil at seeing how desperately sad his boyfriend looked.  

"I don't deserve any of it Phil! I don't deserve the awards, the praise, and...and I don't deserve you!" Dan moved back farther, detaching himself from Phil to hug himself and let out a soft sob.

He was taller than Phil now but at times like this he still looked like the same sad, lost teenager he was all those years ago and Phil's heart positively ached. "Dan... Dan look at me." Phil moved closer, caressing Dan's face with both of his hands and locking eyes, "I love you so much bear...I need you so much and you are more than I deserve. You are so funny Dan and you are so smart it is amazing. And the way...the way you just feel it is so raw and so beautiful Dan. You mean everything to me so please...please don't say you don't deserve anything because the world will be never be able to give you what you should get."

Dan opened his mouth to speak but no words came out, forcing him to swallow hard to try and dislodge the lump from his throat and not just start crying again. Phil Lester was the most beautiful person in the world, inside and out. When he finally did find his voice, it came out small and so raw with emotions it even surprised himself.

"Fuck Phil....You mean everything to me... I just... I just want to be someone worthy of your love."

Phil laughed softly, it was so damn beautiful. "You already are bear."

Phil connected their lips together again, slowly running his tongue over his bottom lip to slide it in against Dan's own. Dan gasped softly as Phil pulled their bodies flush to deepen the kiss and his chest hurt a bit from how much love he felt. It wasn't long before Phil was leading Dan back to their bed and then gently lowering him down on the soft blankets. Dan quickly scrambled back so his entire body was on the bed and sat up to pull of his jacket and shirt, just being able to fling them to the side before a shirtless Phil was pressing him into the bed to kiss down his jaw and to his neck. Dan wrapped his arms around Phil, groping at his back and arching up into his touch, craving his touch like air.  

Phil kissed down Dan's neck, biting at a particular spot pretty high above his neck and sucking hard, shuddering from the loud moan that was ripped out of Dan's mouth. It has been so long since Phil's just littered Dan with hickies, it was too dangerous...just because their close friends knew they were together didn't mean everyone else did and they worked hard to keep it that way. However, Phil just couldn't hold himself back as he slid over to another spot right under Dan's jaw and sucked hard before soothing his tongue over the bruise and Dan couldn't bring himself to care when he felt his erection swelling in his pants.  

"I love you." Phil murmured against his neck, repeated as he slowly moved down Dan's body to take a nipple into his mouth and gently worry it with his teeth.  

Dan arched his back and gasped, he was going to respond, he really was, but then Phil was pressing the heel of his palm against the tent in his pants and all words turned into a high pitch moan that had Phil growling. He moved over to the other nipple to give it equal treatment while skilled hands undid Dan's pants to push his hand inside to cup him through his boxers. Dan gasped, eyes flying open and one hand reaching down to clutch Phil's forearm while he massaged him, paying special attention to the ever-growing wet patch in the soft black cotton. Phil moved over Dan, resting one arm around his head, never stopping his hand while he kissed down his jaw to nibble softly onto his ear lobe.

"You are already so wet for me baby." He whispered softly, his voice already so deep and if Dan was standing he for sure would have collapsed to the floor.

Dan bucked up into Phil's hand, whimpering as his erection blurted out more precum and he would have been embarrassed without turned on he was already if Phil wasn't whispering such sweet but dirty words into his ear.

"You are so beautiful Dan. You turn me on so much baby I can hardly stand it." Phil breathed, sucking another mark just below his ear, "See when I do this," Phil gave a particularly hard squeeze and pressed his thumb to the clothed head of Dan's weeping erection and Dan gasped, clawing at Phil's bicep and mewling loudly, "You just look so damn hot I can barely contain myself. Just thinking about how you scream for me will always rile me up."

"Phil...Phillll," Dan whimpered, "please... Please I need you so bad."

Phil chuckled deeply, "So bad hmm baby? Well I suppose that can be arranged."

Phil leaned back to pull the rest of Dan's clothes off and to remove his own before retrieving their lube. He returned to Dan and pressed their lips together hard, groaning when Dan spread his legs to wrap them around Phil's waist and try to arch closer. Phil pulled away to sit back, throughly wetting three fingers and peppering Dan's inner thigh with kisses while he slowly pressed one long finger into him. Dan's breath stuttered but he quickly adjusted and was soon even trying to press back on his finger, it wasn't enough.

"Phillll"

Phil bit down onto the soft skin of Dan's inner thigh, leaving a deep mark that he repeatedly ran his tongue over, "So impatient baby. Do you need it? Does my pretty boy need me to take care of him?"

Dan gasped, clenching hard around Phil's finger while his neglected cock twitched, smearing more precum against his stomach and he whimpered so loudly it made Phil dizzy. "Please, please, please..."  

Phil slipped another finger into Dan, his movements rougher as his own erection was throbbing from neglect and seeing Dan open so beautifully around his fingers was making him impatient. "Y-Yeah? Shh baby, I will take care of you. I'll make you feel good."

Dan whimpered, arching his back when Phil slipped in a third finger to stretch him out a bit more before pulling them out to lube his own erection. He leaned over Dan, hands sliding up to intertwine their fingers as he grabbed both of his hands. Dan opened his eyes, his brow furrowing and his lips pouting, obviously unhappy with Phil's stalling but that changed once he started pressing in. Dan's eyes opened wide, his jaw going slack until Phil was pressed all the way in and he moaned so sweetly that Phil couldn't help but press their lips together. Their eyes fluttered shut as Phil pulled out slowly to only thrust back in deeply, pressing against all the right places inside of Dan to make him see stars. Phil refused to relent, he kept the same pace and wouldn't release Dan's mouth, swallowing every single plea, whimper, and moan until he was having trouble breathing. He broke the kiss burying his face into Dan's neck, sucking on a patch of skin that wasn't already marked as his hips started to move faster. He couldn't help it, not with being so close to coming and how Dan was writhing and calling out his name.

"Dan... I'm close. Shit I'm close."

Dan arched his back, the constant push into his prostate was causing his whole body to feel like it was on fire and he knew that he was close too. "M-me, ahhhh, too, oh fuck Phil!"

Phil bit into Dan's neck, releasing one of his hands to reach down and pump Dan's erection quickly and that was all it took. A few strokes to his wet cock and Dan was screaming, arching off the bed as he came so hard he felt like he almost black out. Phil was close behind, only able to push a few more times into Dan's wet heat before he came as well.  

They stayed like that for a while, just trying to catch their breaths then Phil slid out slowly and then fell next to Dan who promptly curled into his arms. Phil wrapped his arms around Phil, resting his head on top of Dan's and stroked his back and hip, gently kissing his head a few times.

"I really, really hope you know I love you."

Dan's heart felt like it was going to burst, how on earth did he get so lucky? "I know Phil... god I love you."

Dan looked up and pressed their lips together, kissing softly for what felt like forever until they both started drifting off to sleep.

"What would happen if we moved farther away from each other?"

"The universe would probably explode Phil let's not do that."

[ramzie]

I’ve done it to myself.

I've never had an identity for myself throughout my life due to me surrounding myself around people who decided to label with whatever title or stereotype they felt was befitting to me and my inability to express myself. I've always been know as "XXXX's black friend" throughout high school and college which made me felt more like a background character or someone to make other friends look "cool"  rather than an individual with their own personality, taste, and goals. But every time I would try express my interests with passion, be it metal, anime, gaming, dreams of becoming a pianist and author of a fantasy novel, It would always end in ridicule because it never aligned with my racial stereotype, especially from other people within my race. 

Today, I only have three genuine friends who lives miles apart that actually treats me like a human rather than a prop. But even as someone who felt like an outcast, I've never found that group of people or a family where we've all had difficult lives and support one another by sharing similar interests and comfort. Most nerdy people I've encountered were either too shy to engage in conversation with me, wanted nothing to do with me, or never took me seriously as someone that is into the same unconventional stuff as they were since I seem like a normal person on the outside. People gravitated towards me because they found me funny and quirky. But that was it. Just "XXX's weird quirky and funny black friend". I was never picky in how I've befriended people. I was very open to being around a group of people who didn't share similar interests but could learn from them when interacting and exchanging ideas with people of vastly different backgrounds from mine. The problem was that I never had anyone that was "like" me, or at the very least, shared the similar views or morals as me and actually understands my needs and wants. So I would get a bunch of people who would cross boundaries and don't appreciate me for who I am. Rather, they enjoyed the "idea" of me. The idea of a quirky black kid who they weren't afraid to push around. 

I had a best friend I've met in high school whom I was very close with. We barely have anything in common. Him, a white country boy from the south who enjoys the outdoors whose more conservative, and me, a black kid who grew up from an inner city neighborhood and enjoys staying indoors playing MMOs and watching anime for hours. Despite the disparity, we still clicked and did almost everything together. He was a lot more popular than I was and gotten a lot of attention from girls since he went through like, 2 - 3 girlfriends a month. I've always seen him as average looking, but its his confidence and extroverted personality that drew a lot of people towards him. I was never bothered by this at all, honestly. I've never saw him as competition or someone overshadowing me. He wouldn't stop hanging out with me despite all the attention he was getting and would always try to make room in his schedule to spend time with me, and I was grateful for that. However, there were many flaws about him that bothered me but I've brushed past since I was too insecure to confront him and end our friendship. 

When its just the two of us or someone that we both know well, everything is chill. But when there's a group of people we don't know that well, especially with girls, he starts acting like a douche. Like...really douchey. As teenagers we didn't know how to handle our masculinity, and he was the worst at it. He'd do stupid shit like try to wrestle me on the ground, push me to the ground, yell at me, ect. Usually when we're together with friends we know, we'd joke around throwing insults at one another since we're just dudes having fun. I'm usually the one who receive most of the jokes since I sometimes come off as ditzy and a clumsy, but again, we're guys. With strangers, I feel like I'm part of a circus. They make jokes, but ones that hit my insecurities. He would always make it apparent that I'm the only black guy at whatever party or place they're at and say how I'm the 'whitest' person he's met by making fun of the things I'm passionate about. The same things we've spent time enjoying together. Other people would just glare or stare at me awkwardly, while my other friends would just join in the public shaming. It was like they've become completely different people when we're meeting new people. Over time the jokes and insults became harsher and more racist. I know I should've cut ties with them at this point, but I was a teenager, and a boy who've taken an emotional beating throughout his life. I didn't take these insults personally, even if they seemed racist. The problem was that I didn't know how to differentiate between someone who was joking around or just straight up mocking me, and I didn't want to seem like someone who's emotionally vulnerable. I didn't realize as time went one, these instances would slowly strip away my sense of pride and individuality. I was there to make other people look good. But again, I was too blind to see. 

Everything culminated when me, my best friend, and 3 others kids we knew were playing basketball in our neighborhood park. With me being black and being trash at sports, I was obviously a target for jokes. I didn't mind since we were all trash and threw insults back at them. We kept playing until some kid came up to us and offered to play. He was decked in basketball gear and a jersey showing that he plays competitively on a team from his school. My best friend and him seem to know each other and didn't mind letting him play a few games with us. Of course he dusted all of us, but he specifically targeted me. Mind you, he's white and bigger than me. He'll always steal the ball away from me, dribble around me for minutes, does layups, whatever, anything to make me look awful. He'd say things like "I can't believe I'm witnessing a black kid who can't play ball". and of course, my friends and best friend would join in the public lynching. The basketball star continued to show off around me while my friends would yell at me for being useless at everything. Then the player said "come on cotton picker, I know you can do better than this". You'd think all of my friends would gasp at hearing this. But no. They've continued. "The whitest fucking kid", "hurry up cotton picker!", "stop wasting our time", "why is he even here???". The champion would even grab me during a game, preventing me from moving and continued to say racist things to me while telling me to just go home. At this point, I wanted to beat the shit out of him. But besides not being strong enough, I told myself not to get into anymore fights since I wanted to leave that life behind from my days of New York. After reminding me that everything about me is a disappointment, Mr. champion left and we did too. It was quiet. Then one of the spoke up: "I can't believe he said all those things to (me)". and my best friend replied casually "yeah I guess". 

I've never spoke for the rest of the day. Not even to my parents or siblings. I just sat in my room staring at my wall and realizing my place in the world. It was my first time realizing that maybe, just maybe, I might be hanging out with the wrong kind of people. I wish I could tell you of some heroic moment where I finally stood up for myself, got back at my bullies, or confronted people for being fake and taking advantage of me. But none of that happens. Not once. I was just an insecure mess back then. I still saw my best friend back then from time to time, but this time I was a lot more cautious of his actions, and less willing to hang out with him around others. High School finally ended and we went our separate ways. Distance wasn't a detriment to us since we still kept in contact on facebook along with others I was friends with in high school. Sometimes we've hung out, but it was like once every 2 or 3 years due to me being in college and him joining the marines. He was still a dick, but he wasn't as hyper-masculine as before. I was the optimist that believed people change overtime. That if I developed and seen the error of my ways from my years as a teen and beyond, then other people I haven't seen from years would too. Well....

One night on new years, we and a few old high school buddies decided to have a bite a hooters to celebrate our birthdays since we're a week apart, and my departure to New York. We drinked, laughed, had fun, ect. He complemented  on how good I now look and how much I've changed. Then we decided to go meet up with some other people to have a little house party. I decided to come and didn't think twice since I've left all the bad memories from high school behind me. We've went and I was met with a house full of rednecks, country music, walls decked out in confederate flags, and awkward stares from all of them. Of course I felt out of place since all I wore was a leather jacket, band t-shirt and dark pants, but I didn't let it try to stop me from having fun. There was a pool table and I know for a fact none of us know how to play pool. But my best friend decided to try and immediately challenged me. I said 'what the hell' and did. I had no idea what I was doing, and my best friend sucked ass too, but he knew a lot more than me, and made it clear to everyone that I didn't know what I was doing instead to trying to dissolve the awkwardness. Everyone watched as we played, with him insulting my skill. Then he went for my race, why I'm awkward, why I dress weird, etc. and my other friend joined in. Everyone else just kept quiet. Staring as once again, I've became their punching bag. The night ended, and I just left without notice.

 From there I've just stopped using social media or any kind of interaction from people I've known from high school. He kept sending me comments and sending me friend invites on various platforms such as instagram, but I never followed through. I told myself if I was going to develop as a human, I'm going to have to cut ties with 99% of my 'friends'. Again, I should've seen this miles away, especially since I've had a friend before him that treated me like dirt. It was back in New York where I just didn't trust anyone since I was surrounded by awful kids who didn't had a future and cared little for it. I've known this one kid since I was 3 and we've been best friends since. But he has his own can of issues. Insecurity, jealously, anger, cowardice, conformity, ect. He's also a narcissist, like.... a full blown one. We'd always compete with one another as kids at almost anything, but he would thrown tantrums whenever he'd lose. I know you're thinking, "They're just kids". Yes, but now that I have 2 extreme cases of people not changing from the monster they were in grade school, you'd be surprised. He's a manchild, lets put it at that. The only reason I've known him for so long because his family is like a second family to me due to us sharing similar cultural backgrounds. His brothers and friends with mine, my mom is friends with his, ect. He was like a younger brother to me. Of course he would thrown insults at me out of the blue and go for things such as my weight, teeth ect. I used to fear him but now as an adult, I just see him as a joke. He still brags about what little money he has, how growing up in a rough neighborhood made him a 'gangster', ect. What really bothers me about him is that he still believes that I'm still as insecure and uncomfortable with myself as he is, or at least, as I were years ago. These days I'm a lot more expressive in my outfits by trying to dress alternatively, but he would try to make fun of me for it by saying stuff like I'm putting a target on my back for people on the street to berate or beat up for. He'd also use it as a crutch to say that I'm not a real black person, and that I'm just a sellout. I know most of the shit he said were stupid, but I was depressed at the time after losing my apartment, moving back in with my mom, having very little money to support myself, and taking verbal abuses at work. The last time I saw him was when he was getting bitched at by his mom for sagging his pants. After that, I cut him off.

Toxic friendships are complicated, especially as a guy who took years learning to regulate his emotions and was never taught how defend themselves from people who take advantage of you. I've known these people for nearly my entire life and it took a lot of strength and self beating to tell myself to cut them off completely. Like I sad, I've never gotten a sweet taste of revenge like most people do, but all I can do is think twice before labeling someone as a friend. Know I'm alone. I do have one best friend whom I've known since elementary and has always been genuine and thoughtful for me ever since. We still see each other from time to time, but our schedules and goals make it difficult for us. He's also popular since he's an artist, but I feel like he rightfully earned it since he never let his ego get the best of him. He's just as nerdy as me, but he got out of his comfort zone way earlier than me and people gravitated towards him for it. When I'm around him and his friends, I don't feel out of place or just "XXX's black friend" not because there are other black people in his group, but also because the attention isn't drawn towards me, and whenever I feel left out, he would always make the effort to make me feel validated. But I can't rely on him all the time for social contact. We're busy, we give each other space, and we're both aware of that. 

These days I would go for weeks or months without talking to anyone besides a few family members and people at work. It's understandable if you believe that I deserve to be in this position for not realizing that I have the worst case of friend picking skills. But perhaps it's best if I just stay in solitude for now. If you've taken the time to read this, thank you. This is merely the words of a weary soul who've made way too many mistakes to see any progress.

[depressionkat-blog]

Friends?

So I just re-used an old tumblr blog to pen down my thoughts on depression. Actually, I am not sure if I even have depression. Would it be more comforting to be diagnosed with depression rather than to solve an unknown problem? 

So what is depressionkat? Maybe using the moniker depressionkat is bad, because that is self-labelling myself as depressed, and of course when you believe you are depressed, you start acting depressed. But whatever.

depressionkat (small d) is a cat who is kinda depressed. How did it even start? As a wee little kitten, depressionkat would lie in bed, pondering about the meaning of life. If all we ever feel is sadness and suffering, surely there must be a purpose. Would depressionkat be able to change the world? 

But depressionkat felt despondent about that hope. depressionkat felt sad and lonely most of the time. It didn’t help that momma and popa cat weren’t around very often, moma cat was busy working while popa cat didn’t even live in the same home... that is another story for another day. 

In school, depressionkat envied the others who seemed cheerful and smiley and pretty and had a lot of friends and had many wonderful hobbies. Of course ruminating about all of that did not help. depressionkat felt inferior in every aspect. Whenever depressionkat walked up to the mirror, depressionkat would think, why do I look so terrible with little shifty eyes and length awkward arms and rough fur everywhere, I don’t look like a proper cat, I don’t think anyone would want me. Sometimes the thoughts got so bad that depressionkat just cried, whether it stemmed from poor grades or feeling ugly or anything at all. It caused the class to call her ‘crybaby’. 

It’s not like depressionkat had no friends, depressionkat started a blog, a comic, and a storybook with a few of them, writing/drawing and passing them around class. It was one of the only times depressionkat felt that she truly felt at peace and belonged with the rest of them. She loved it when the classmates laughed and smiled and asked for more sequels and continuations. But that didn’t help her to feel that they were close friends at all. There were the times where there were birthday parties and she wasn’t invited. There were the times that the teacher orders the kids to line up in twos and she had no partner. There were the times where she didn’t know what to say exactly to make friends. There were the times she was sick and no one messaged her to ask how are you. Those times stung badly and again depressionkat was reminded that she had no true friend to stick with. The world is a lonely place to be in. 

Luckily, depressionkat was hardworking and fortunate enough to be in a family with adequate financial resources. The numerous tuitions and ‘learning camps’ and ‘enrichment’ helped depressionkat to adopt positive study habits and discipline. Even though depressionkat felt sad most of the time, she told herself to stop being sad or angry. Hence her results were pretty good, while not the best, it was always among the upper percentile. At least she was smart enough. 

To be fair, depressionkat wasn’t always sad. The times punctuated with happiness included: going over to the neighbours’ and playing video games, reading books, drawing and talking to self about a fantasy world, writing guides for Pokemon, neopets or any other online games depressionkat chanced upon. All these activities passed the time, allowing her to tide over the day and forgetting about sadness for a moment. The internet was a safe place, where no one could know how ugly or lonely she was in real life. Plus she felt proficient in using computers, as there was this class in primary school where the teacher would instruct the kids on how to use certain programs, and depressionkat would be one of the first few to finish the task at hand. 

When depressionkat was moving on to the next phase of education, she vowed that she had to become a new version of herself. The old depressionkat was gone. The new depressionkat was going to be popular, pretty, and smart. So she avoided going to the secondary school where most of her primary school friends had gone to, and went into one where everyone else was new. It was going to be a new start. 

Even though depressionkat had more friends, she still felt horrible. It was not what she had expected. Most of the times spent together was so routine and boring - just grabbing some Burger King, Starbucks or 7-11 Mashed Potatoes and Slurpee. Where were the sleepovers and actual fun activities, the things she saw on high-school movies? I guess it was ok, but I wish it could be better. I still felt the tinge of loneliness whenever the teacher asks us to line up in pairs, because the cliques tend to be in even numbers, I seemed to be the odd one out... not sure who to pair with. 

But overall it was better. She bonded with her new-found friends over nerdy things like anime, coding on blogskins.com, and of course blogging on blogger.com. The one thing she remembered fondly was the times rushing home from school to grind on maplestory with one of her friends, playing until the wee hours of night. In a span of one month of intense playing, she managed to level her character to 107. She even managed to get a certificate for high level of computer proficiency, as well as code Flash sites and MINDSTORM robots. That is so.. nerdy.

School was still pretty easy (ie. other than homework, there was still time to pursue mundane hobbies/time-wasting activities) so depressionkat managed to enter into a class with triple Science and Additional Mathematics. It was a bit sad because she had barely any old friends in her new class, but she re-assured herself that it was gonna be ok. 

That was when her life began to change drastically. She found an online community where lots of ah-lians and ah-bengs resided. Feeling lonely and craving for excitement in her nerdy life, she reached out to them and met up to play in the arcades and hang out, go to clubs and smoke. She quit her ‘nerdy cca’. And a lot of bad things happened then. 

There was this time where she was sending out a micro-tweetlike-message on the site. Suddenly she was meeting up some guy, who was her then ‘stead’s friend, at his place. It was her first time. His home was filled with foreign people like his aunties and what not. She didn’t know what to do. He offered her some respite in his room so she obliged. 

And then the bad thing happened. A game of ‘truth or dare’. The dare was... taking out of clothes. I don’t remember much of it, except intense crying and begging to let me out. Eventually the guy relented and I fled the block, ran to the bus-stop and continued crying, texting my ‘stead’ about what had just happened. My ‘stead’s gang walloped the guy (who was also part of their gang) for the gang no-no of ‘stealing yo girl’. 

That wasn’t the end of the drama and the bad company. But she felt popular. She felt wanted. She felt pretty with a little eyeliner on. She loved drinking because she felt good at it. There was the high and excitement in the life that she had craved. There was all the typical girl drama of getting boys, cheating on boys, getting found out, losing friends over getting found out, being sad and crying for days on end on the floor, wanting the boy back. 

At this point, depressionkat’s grades plummeted down and she almost could not be promoted, but miraculously scraped by. It was a harsh wakeup call. At this point depressionkat’s looks also started to become worse, the acne had flared up due to stress and aggravation from a malicious facial company. Her scalp became so unbearably oily. Stop being depressed over boys, your ‘O’ levels are next year and you’re failing almost everything other than English. No more boys, no more social media, just study. The daily routine became something like this: wake up and attend school plus extra classes from 6am to 4pm. Go for tuition from 6pm to 8pm. Do homework from 9 to 11 or even 12/1am. 

The efforts paid off eventually and depressionkat’s grades improved so much, that she got a ‘Most Improved!’ award from the school :’) She could go anywhere she wanted. What did she want? 

Perhaps writing? Maybe journalism. She loved writing so much (as you can tell from this really long post). 

Perhaps design? She loved drawing, and more so she discovered she loved digital design from the photoshop and html/css she did for school and her own personal hobbies.

With that regard, depressionkat’s goals was to enter a course for Mass Communication. She knew that course was perfect, she could write eloquently, she could dabble in web-design and collateral design, and maybe even DJ (not the remixing kind, but the ones in the radio station!)

But depressionkat soon got intrigued by psychology. Having such a (self-proclaimed) depressing past, she wanted to know what to do to get better. So she enrolled in psychology instead.

Bad move. 

(I will detail about this in a future post!) 

[persephoneandpomegranates]

flashbacks and old posts

I’m consolidating blogs so here’s some fun posts from when i was a senior in high school / freshman in college.

Sunday, July 22nd, 2012

whenever i go to the library

i always find the most embarrassing books at the very beginning so then i have to walk around with them while i peruse the rest of the library.

so then i end up grabbing up bunch of random, potentially interesting books to use as an awkward shield so no one can see that i have a stack of comic books and paranormal research and whatnot.

but then i have to check them out. even though we have self-serve, which i always choose, the librarian is always sitting right there just watching so no one tries anything sinister like stealing library books. and at some point i run out of normal books to check out and then i’m just like. … oh yeah tarot cards? i forgot i grabbed that book. that’s for my… dog… because he can read and he’s really into learning about new… nevermind.

#awkward , #library, #tarot cards, #embarrassing books

Monday, July 30th, 2013

procrastination is an onion

i like to create multi-layered procrastination.

instead of just putting off my summer homework or my online byu classes by watching tv, i like to create mind numbing projects like organizing my gruesome music or kindle collections, or cleaning my room.

but then i don’t want to do those either.

so then i realize that it’s almost august and camp nanowrimo is nearly upon me.

well, i can’t possibly organize my kindle and music collection with less than 48 hours to figure out plot, characters, and most importantly, how about genre.

but then.

it’s really hard to just do that.

so i have to get some creative inspiration, right?

so that’s how i ended up on neopets.

i swear, they used to have the most amazing writing boards and guilds. but now things just trudge along on the boards because there are less users. and i am all about the speed and instant gratification because hey, facebook.

but because the boards are so slow i find myself trying to feed my neopets in the meantime.

and then i’m like, oh i never got the pack rat avatar! i better start finding a bunch of useless items to put in my safety deposit box…

and now i have to work my way all the back down to my summer homework and byu classes by completing everything else first. because my neurosis says so.

my procrastination is an onion.

so many layers and it makes me cry.

#onion  #procrastination  #neopets  #nanowrimo  #camp nanowrimo #layered procrastination  #somebody end this miserable cycle please

Tuesday, December 18th, 2012

captain college

this one time, a girl desperately wanted to go to college.

but then she realized that she would have to do college applications and also ask for letters of recommendation.

that’s a lot of work.

so instead she watched tv and lol’d at the internet.

and spent like half an hour wikipedia captain planet because when i ws younger i thought it was freaking bad ass and captain planet was hot. or something.

the power of heart!

but seriously, can i put this on my application? heh.

#college apps  #applications  #college admissions  #captain planet

Thursday, January 24th, 2013

i am not even a good artist.

cute guy was like oh can i borrow your notes?

so i went to get my notes only to find them covered in doodles.

and not cool ones.

doodles of danny phantom.

…in a slightly suggestive v-neck.

well fuck me it can’t get any worse.

so i go to give the folder to said guy.

and i drop the folder.

papers. everywhere.

i am so slick. and by slick, i mean extremely socially inept.

my only hope is that my doodles are so terrible, that he can’t even tell what i drew.

but somehow, the fact that i also wrote DANNY PHANTOM next to the picture, does not make me feel optimistic.

#danny phantom  #bad doodles  #aww jeez  #socially awkward  #awkward #i like tags almost as much as i liek turtles.

Sunday, September 15th, 2013

Jesus, Marie

My life is a bunch of rocks.

No but really, I’m freaking out. I’m going to college in like three fucking days and its going to be my last day at this amazing parrot sanctuary I volunteer at tomorrow. All I want to do is sit in a corner and play with those fucking parrots and probably get bit at because I am not the best parrot handler but I’m  learning. Beyond the point.

I just feel so unready. All my friends are out there doing that college thing already or they’re like me and have a few days left but they are so ready. They want to meet new people and go to parties and join clubs and hangout with their new roommates. They want to get out and live life like a college student.

And I just don’t.

I just can’t picture it. Me doing laundry, making my own food, sharing a communal bathroom. I can see myself doing all these things, but it’s like watching a movie montage. It’s not actually me.

I don’t know if I can do this.  But dammit I’m not giving up. A teacher told my senior class to look around our classroom and know that while we were all going  to college, at least one person would drop out before they graduated. It wasn’t harsh, it was just a fact. The point was that it’s not for everyone and sometimes people learn that too late.

I’m just terrified that person is me.

But you know what? I love school. I love learning. I love procrastinating by organizing all my notes and color coding them when I could actually be studying which would be a lot more useful. I love commiserating with my friends during all nighters or even just glancing at my Facebook and see that twenty other people in that class are on Facebook at that ungodly hour, doing the exact same thing I’m doing- which is regretting that they put off a giant project or a huge midterm.

I am so excited that I’m going to get  to grow up and prove to my parents they did a good job raising me, despite my flaws: my laziness, my morning crankiness, the fact that I worry about everything.

I think that’s the problem, that last part. I always worry. My worrying has one level: defcon five. I think about how the supervolcano in Yellowstone could erupt at any moment and kill a gazillion people and also me. A heavy fear that wraps around me and my shaking hands inevitably weaves its way through thoughts like my immeninent demise. But it’s also what I do when I think about the scores on my latest math test might be. There’s no panic gradient with me. Just on or off. And it’s rarely off.

But you know what else I’ve learned about my worrying? Even when it is absolutely warranted, like when I get  that math score back-and yep I saw that coming- I hardly flinch.  I mean, “Ouch, I am not so good at this calculus thing” goes through  my mind, but I accept it and move on ridiculously fast, considering how much worry I put into it.

So that’s what I’m doing now. Taking everything and turning into the apocalypse.

College isn’t going to be what movie montage me expected. It’s going to be me figuring out how to talk to my roommate and still sucking at talking to boys and probably using too much laundry detergent and most definitely awkwardly trying to feed myself at 3am because I’m suddenly starving.

It’s not going to be easy. It’s going to be different  than anything I’ve ever done before.

But that’s okay. Because I can’t just spend my life sitting in my room wishing  I was 16 again and my biggest defcon five worry was never getting my license and ending up like my aunt who’s trapped walking and riding a bike or bus everywhere.

I can’t just stay where I am right now forever. That wouldn’t be living; it would just be existing.

What I’m saying is dammit. My life isn’t just going to be a bunch of boring rocks. It’s going  to be a fucking kaleidoscope of experiences.

I’m going to go to a college rager, even though I won’t  drink more than two sips of lightweight beer, just because if I don’t go, I’ll always wished I had. And you know what? Maybe I will get drunk and seriously regret it in the morning but at least  then I’ll know it’s not for me, rather than just being too afraid  to find out.

I’m going to join the pre veterinarian club even though I’ve heard it’s cutthroat and that scares me, I have every right to be there. And I’m definitely joining some nerdy fan clubs. I’ve always wanted to learn how to play D&D.

Who’s going to stop me? Myself?

Not a chance.

#jumbled mess  #college  #fuck yeah  #worries  #i can do this #even if i need to take a few xanax  #i got this

Sunday, September 15th, 2013

Whew

I feel a lot better now. Like I’m fucking capable of being alive or something.

#post rant #much better

Wednesday, September 25th, 2013

First Week of College

Great first week at UW.

So my life is pretty cool and all my worries about college have been unfounded. That being said, I did shrink some of my cotton shirts in the dryer doing laundry for the first time. Also, the lotion I brought for my legs is something I’m definitely allergic too. Oops. I have two little hives on my legs and both my shins are super itchy. Guess who is buying new lotion tomorrow?

I did almost kill myself in the shower today, though. I went to shave my legs for the first time, but because the shower is just a tiny little rectangle, I had to get creative with my acrobatics. Because I went to a yoga class today, I felt like maybe I could put my leg up on the wall and do a modified wall sit type of thing. So I did that and it seemed like a pretty good idea except for the fact my leg was a little lower than I meant it to be. No problem, I can just hitch my leg up a little higher and then we’re in business.

That’s where my shower took a turn for the worst.

As I was lurching my leg up, I lost a bit of my balance and my back slid down a little. Now I’m stuck. Well, shit.

So I struggle a little more and realize there’s no way I’m getting out of this gracefully. But I can hope, so I decide to slide slowly down the wall of the shower until I reach a point where I can adjust myself and stand up.

Of course, showers are fucking slippery when wet.

For a brief moment, I thought I was going to die.

Whooosh. Clunk. Fuck.

So now I’m sitting on the floor of a nasty ass public shower, butt naked of course and feeling sad about myself because that kind of hurt. I missed my head and whatnot so luckily none of my roommates found me bleeding and unconscious and also naked in the shower an hour later, but still. My dignity is bruised.

Anywho, since I’m already sitting on the floor of the gross shower and the five second rule has gone and past, I just decided to wallow in my self pity and shave my legs on the floor.

It actually worked out quite nicely except for the fact I probably have butt herpes now.

#how i almost died in the shower  #slippery bathroom  #college life #don’t shave your legs like i did #also you can’t get herpes like that but you probably can get something else horrible #can you get herpes in your butt

[isaidhay]

This morning, after learning work was cancelled after what felt like a too-long-holiday with too-much-time spent alone, with myself, to think ... I stumbled on the article “When An Ex Dies” (http://www.nextavenue.org/no-place-grief-ex-dies/) in my FB feed, detailing the unexpected death of an ex-husband - father of her children - remarried with a teenage son - and her place in the grieving process. They were no longer friends, didn't talk much, but their lives were intimately intertwined for longer than not. A google search also uncovered a Hello Giggles piece on the death of an ex-boyfriend, hospitalized for 28 days before dying of heart failure, and the strange space that occupies.  Once inseparable, but never married. Close with family, but that was 2 years ago. What is her place? Would he have wanted her there? Was she allowed the proximity to actively grieve? She had a month as he declined to tackle these questions. It made me think about what happens when we’re socially denied the right to our feelings. our experiences. What happens when we’re alone with our pain and not allowed to grieve.  Because more than what happens when an ex dies, I wonder. What happens if an ex dies, and no one knows you exist.  I used to joke “boyfriend” was a strong word, though that’s what I call him today. It’s easier. Feels true. But in the moment before Facebook, there was no “it’s complicated” to point to. Did we date? We did go “out” once or twice. Whispering in halls after class, a subtle graze on the shoulder, little secret pinch at our mutual work. After visits . We knew what the other looked like without any clothes, but mostly we knew how the other one thought. Mostly, we wrote. Corresponded like old-fashioned pen-pals in an emerging digital age. Livejournal, Xanga, Myspace, Deviant Art, OkCupid, AIM. He was a beautiful writer, photographer, creator. He could turn a phrase in the way that sparked my heart and ignited my brain, activating my desire to create that had waned in this dead, ill-matched place. He inspired me to write as much and as well as he did. I’d churn out content in hopes for a comment. Experiment. Try to impress him. We’d chat for hours in our separate rooms on our separate giant desktop computers about how isolating being somewhere we didn’t feel like we belonged felt, and why we stayed, our plans to get out. His brain worked the same way my brain did. Neither of us had a southern accent. We liked the same films, music, politics. In any other city or timeline - in a healthy world - this would sound eye-rollingly mundane. But in my accidental religious college I felt trapped in, landlocked in a rural corner of a rural state that was so far from what I wanted and where I wanted to be ... it felt like magic to have found him. And to have found him by accident. At the last possible second. It was a psychic, emotional, intellectual connection. Bobby meant the world to me. But we didn’t date. I wasn’t his girlfriend. His friends didn’t get it, and were kept out of the loop. No one knew what I thought I knew. That Bobby was the love of my life. But I was not the love of his.  He had a crush on a gentle British soccer player named Jenny, who he told me about ... later. His blog posts, vague odes to love ... we’re not actually about me, as I had thought. But that didn’t stop the sleepovers. Pinches. Hours on AIM. We met on a media-arts trip to Dallas. I had seen him, but we’d never spoken. He was classically handsome - over 6ft tall, blonde, huge blue eyes, awkward and hunchy. A recently nerdy chubby boy who had no idea what he was about to be able to do to women. In Georgia ... at that school ... I naturally assumed the worst about my peers, more because I didn’t want to be there and I assumed they all did. Everyone was conservative, Baptist, liked hunting, sports, and the other things that didn’t impress my bitterly equally stereotypical 90s-Daria-gothy-art heart. But we’d moved into the aughts, and the Iraq War was underway, and I’d given up on finding anyone who made me feel anything other than invisible, hated, fundamentally wrong. So in Dallas, i wagered I was 1/2 way to L.A. And I started driving west, away. But I got a call that some of the year book kids wanted to go with me to see Margaret Cho, a show nearby I’d found. And traffic was bad. And I’d left all my clothes at the hotel. So I figured we’d go, THEN I’d run away. Just in time, I picked them up. And Bobby was there.  My CD case was filled with bizarre mixes from the dying gasp of Napster’s bastard child, Limewire, and film soundtracks. And usually Cats, if I felt mean to my passengers. One attempt at college friendship led to a girl I was driving up the mountain to aggressively mock a really dumb song by an awful about pinball (and the wizards who sure could play it) while I tried not to beat myself to death on the steering wheel. Like, she couldn’t believe it was a song or a band existed that would play it, then requested some Creed or DC Talk. I couldn’t believe I was in a place so wrong-for-me I had to defend that ‘The Who’ existed. So I fired up a “weirder” CD - Kill Bill soundtrack I think - to defiantly be me in front of these strangers I was sure were about to offend me. But Bobby knew what it was. Excited. Agreed. We talked about the movie enthusiastically, the first person I got to discuss it with, the whole drive there. The rest of the car was offended by Cho - half the audience walked out when she spoke out against Iraq - but Bobby and I agreed with her. It didn’t matter it wasn’t funny. It seemed important. And it was really hard to offend us. We parted that night with a little smile. A plan to see a movie the next night while everyone else watched a football game.  I didn’t run away to LA. The next night, during the final Matrix film, our pinkies teased each others, curious, creeping back and forth around excuses to pass popcorn and fake scares, until we finally held hands. After, in the hotel, I wanted to show him something in another room. I’d never felt that kind of clean attraction, never felt it so confidently, boldly. We talked close. Then forehead to forehead. Then we kissed. And we didn’t stop.  Until a yearbook kid (I was newspaper, you see) barged in and told Bobby they had all decided they were leaving that night instead, so pack up, he was driving. I could come, too, but they wouldn’t wait. I had driven 4 other members of newspaper, so I ran to their rooms and desperately tried to convince them to leave, too. But they didn’t. I offered to leave my car. They called me selfish. Bobby left. I stayed and cried.  Our time together was short. 3 months. We saw each other a lot, touched a lot, he took me to the homecoming dance as my first, proper date. He was an early adopter of the White Stripes, such a relief from a sea of Creed, and we’d talk, kiss, listen. But for the crush I had on him, he didn’t have the same on me, despite our obvious mental connection, and as I slowly (very slowly) let that settle in ... I didn’t take it very well. I took it really quite very poorly. It got really dark. And please understand how dire it had gotten right before he appeared. Sometimes I think the universe sent him to me to keep me safe, from running away, to finish out the semester at school in one piece.  The last night before winter break he said he was going to come over, then said he was coming with friends. I bought a bunch of beer, because I’d been 21 a solid 6 weeks and COULD. Also picked up a party platter, so they’d like me. And waited. He didn’t come. I texted, he stopped answering. But at 2:30am the doorbell rang and I bounded to receive him ... only it wasn’t him, it was a strung out stranger who started hitting me, tried to barge in. I fought him off and locked the door. My parents got me the next day and loaded me up.  I started a new school in January. No one knew I was leaving, but I was relieved to never come back ... except I was still in love with Bobby. We kept talking, blogging, AIM’ing. I was lonely and would photograph my new campus and scan the pictures to him, for critiques. He was impressed. We’d set concert dates that fell apart last minute. I shipped him t-shirts I thought he’d like, but he never admitted receiving. I visited with a box of gifts, $100 of books and tschotskes that I individually wrapped and carefully decorated with quotes from his favorite books, films, songs. I delivered it, but he said he never got it. He said it was stolen, and i was an idiot for leaving it at his door. He had told me he’d be there, so I sat outside awhile and called, waited, asked his hallmates where he was. He said I made him look like an asshole, a bad guy, and he was done. I still believe he had it, maybe threw it away without opening it, but something always felt wrong. Later I learned he had fallen in love with a girl he later followed to Honduras, and was at a concert with her that day. It was all over a then secret blog. I was at a new school and met new people. Hurt, changing, our connection faded out. In person, I never saw him again, though sometimes I’d check in. My birthday 2006, he messaged me. First time in a long time. He apologized, said he thought of me often, and hoped i was well. I cautiously wished the same. He had decided to stay in town a year after graduation to stay with his friends, I was a super-senior due to the transfer and in no rush to get out, now that I could do-over college right. He got his first job as an AD on a small feature shooting in town and was writing again. I ran my school film committee, and was wrapping up a degree with a minor in screenwriting and cinema theory. I saw a future where we’d reunite, as collaborators, in LA. We chatted on FB and joked about cylons. Facebook used to email you when you got a wall post or comment, but it just would say to go check them out, not what they said.  In late January 2007, I received a series of these emails saying Bobby had commented on a photo, posted on my wall. But he must have deleted them, I never saw what he said. It drove me batty. But I was newly embroiled in a tumultuous, confusing relationship and didn’t reach out to ask. It was probably nothing. He also seemed to be in a new relationship he was pretty excited about. He posted on Valentines Weekend 2007 that he was fixing something he had long longed to. To do it right, finally, put everything right. The same Valentines Weekend of 2007, I was to go to a protest in Washington D.C., but I pulled out last second. I lied and said I had a funeral to attend on Tuesday. I felt weird, dark, scared. I was convinced something bad was going to happen -- it was icy, maybe there was going to be a wreck? I was low on money, I said. They were mad, and left me. I saw it immediately, but it took me 3 days to “see” it. His post had a lot of comments on it, I saw it and speculated. I talked to my co-worker (who I ALSO had had a huge crush on) about him, told him about Bobby, how I had loved him. That they were both talented. Maybe we’d all work together some day. This was Friday. There were an unusual number of pictures on FB about Bobby. I smiled. I loved Bobby. These were great pictures.  An unusual amount of comments about Bobby being a good guy. I smiled. Bobby was a great guy. Not even weird, everyone knew it. We’d had our pain, and troubles, but I loved Bobby dearly. This was Saturday. Then in the early AM ... all my friends in Washington DC ... I saw the “was.” My eyes let me see the “was.” Bobby ‘was’ a great guy. Even then, I was like “what did Bobby do? Did he get in trouble?” “Bobby was a great guy, I’m shocked and horrified by the news.”  WHAT NEWS. “Bobby was so kind, he didn’t deserve this.”  Bobby had died over Valentines Weekend, 2007. Bobby didn’t just die. He died badly. Very badly.  And Bobby didn’t die in an accident, though that is what they told his elderly father.  Bobby was murdered. Murdered running for his life after his girlfriend, who he was naked in bed with the morning after Valentines day, was also murdered. Murdered her ex, who found them in her home when he showed up unannounced, and went to his car, got a gun, and shot them both an insane number of times in cold blood. She was in the bedroom. Bobby made it to the front lawn. I couldn’t breathe. A memorial group was set up, and a girl from the car that night in Dallas kindly added me. There was a funeral. It was Tuesday. I hadn’t lied. ---- I had no one to talk to. And no real mutual friends with Bobby. The only friends who knew who I was only remembered the drama, or I assumed they would. I reached out with . They didn’t want or need me in their grief. But there was no place to put mine.  I put on a shirt of his he had left at my house. A ringer T with Mr. Rogers face, smiling. It said “You’re Special.” I’d wear it under my clothes everyday like secret underwear for the next several weeks. I couldn’t figure out how it happened, but I needed to know. What I saw in my head, the placement, the timeline, didn’t make sense. That week I’d have a dream as if I was watching it in real time. I understand now. I saw how it happened. It was horrible. I attended the funeral, saw some old teachers, friends, but I was alone in it. They didn’t know how I knew Bobby, just that we had some classes together. It was nice I came, they thought. I should sit in back, the front was reserved for his close friends. It was an open casket. I tried to get near, to look at him, but I fell down. I couldn’t get near. I kept buckling. I held onto an old newspaper co-worker, from behind, and looked around her to hold myself up. She commented I was always quirky. I flashed back to him sleeping in my bed. I thought of him sleeping, naked. He looked like he was sleeping. I felt ashamed. Ashamed to see that. I couldn’t tell anyone that. Even that I knew what he looked like asleep. He was buried with a t-shirt I had bought him. It was one of his favorites. I saw new pictures of him in it. He was buried along with photos he had displayed in his room. Including the first gift I ever gave him ... I blew up a picture he took and framed it. It was with him at the end. No one new that was also a part of me, either. I don't know why he had both. If he just really liked them. Or if he also liked them because there was also something good of me. I’ll never know, and probably not, but it helps me to believe. Over 300 people attended the funeral. Everyone loved Bobby. But it was a terrible funeral - a preacher who never met him excited to scare a bunch of young faces about drugs, adultery, hell. Hymns instead of White Stripes. Cold. It had nothing to do with Bobby. His friends would later have their own memorial. I wasn't invited ... they didn’t know me, didn’t know they should. A week later, i got a heavy fever and went into a hard dream, and the pain sort of lifted. Like I was in a warm bear hug. I felt like Bobby visited me, and apologized he had to wait so long to get to me, the list was long, and that he didn’t know it would hit me like it did.  But his death did hit me. It still hits me. He was my highest OKCupid match in the whole southeast for years after. When we met, we were 84%. And the thing about OkCupid was ... they didn’t delete his profile. It stayed up almost 10 years. This year, 2016, was the year it finally disappeared. And this year ... we matched at 99%. I know that is who I am with who he was, but still. 99%. I live in LA now ... and I think I live here for Bobby. He would’ve been so much more successful than me, so much more easily. But I think I fight for him. I need to make something for him, because he couldn’t. I need to be something, someone. Because he never will. And I think of Bobby everytime I hear Jack White. Sometimes I hate it. Sometimes it hurts too much. I had a White Stripes song in my head just last night. I guess that’s part of what triggered this today.  What do you do when you loved someone who died, and you’re not allowed to?  I don’t know if Bobby wants my love, or appreciates it, or it matters to him in death. If he’d want me to keep talking about him, or pretending like I have a right to a piece of him. But based on the last time we really talked, i hope he would understand. And appreciate. And that this love ... though not a reciprocated romantic love ... was still a valuable love.  Because I will always deeply love Bobby. And in 6 weeks, he’ll have been gone 10 years. I don't want to be trapped by the past. Caught up in pain. This year I want to honor Bobby in a positive way ... by making something for him. To honor him. I hope I can do him justice.