#a better example might be when conservatives go 'oh the left is so horrible and violent' and ppl in the middle are like 'really?' and look

[snekdood]

😬

the "leader" is more like "leaders". normally one might think of stalin or something, but hes just a blueprint, the actual leaders are the ones at the top of the social pyramid within these spaces, such as popular tankie blogs

this ones obvious. i dont feel like i need to say anything. we've all seen how ppl act on here when you question any of their beliefs or the effectiveness of them, etc. and if you challenge them at all or say you dont agree, suddenly you're a horrible person or even a bigot of some form

i underlined "denunciation sessions" bc theres a big emphasis on here to denounce the old "unwoke" parts of your life. not so that ppl should change for the better, but because there's a pressure to change immediately and throw all your old beliefs out the window without even really unpacking them. its their way or the highway and you have to choose right now and its not a multiple choice test. i also underlined "debilitating work" bc theres an emphasis on reblogging things to "spread awareness" or whatever as soon as it pops up on your dash, and if you dont, you're a horrible person, etc.

while i dont really think many of the options given necessarily apply, they sort of do. you dont need "permission" to date, but you'll be berated for dating the "wrong type of person". you'll be told to change or quit jobs if the job does something tumblr communities dont agree with, even if you need the job, and usually they'll call it "boycotting" to make it seem more legit. they'll discourage you from moving to any state or country that they deem isnt progressive enough.

this one goes without saying. instead of it being some random air of superiority, it's "we're the most moral, correct and progressive people" superiority

this one also goes w/o saying, people on here think incredibly black and white all the time, its definitely encouraged.

this one ALSO goes without saying

this one is obvious as evidenced the past two months. everyone saying "believe victims" and that "rape is always bad" in the past but then coming in to defend hamas' actions at every turn and deny the rape or even say that "if it did happen it was justified". which is a fucking wild way to think about the world and you should be locked up.

also obvious. tankies love to guilt trip. nevermind if it backfires on them and makes ppl resent them and move to the right after. i mean, after all, all they cared about was the power they had in telling ppl what to do, not actually giving a fuck about anything or having any convictions.

yes bc if you interact with anyone ppl on tumblr generally dont like, you'll also be shunned. if you have family members who aren't "progressive" enough and you still accept them into your life and hang out with them, even if you dont necessarily want to or dont necessarily like them fully, the fact you still interact with them at all is bad, apparently.

obviously, bc who would want to stick around a place like this once they realize whats really going on. its why they demonize ppl like me or anyone who questions them too much and pushes us to side, to use us as examples for the new, younger people coming in that they get to manipulate and tell them to avoid you and avoid being like you, since you ever dared to question them. they'll call you whatever they need to, make bullshit up about you, JUST to lure ppl in and tell them how much better they are than you, or that if you listen to them they can avoid being like you.

i mean. yeah? maybe it doesnt seem that way but. ppl asking for money all the time through paypal or whatever? or the overall goal of "taking the billionaires wealth and redistributing it", while its a statement i generally agree with, i dont trust that the people saying it will be that responsible, and would probably just hoard money for themselves, and deprive it from people they "dont like" on purpose, almost as revenge for a real or perceived slight, or just bc they dont like someones "bad vibes".

yeah you're apparently supposed to take having tumblr mutuals very seriously, treat them like best buds even though you've probably never messaged eachother or messaged eachother twice about inane things you saw on tumblr. its not a total stranger bc its someone on tumblr so its fine actually! see, they say they're queer and a leftist in their bio, totally safe! thats all it takes! also activism is reblogging or something ig

if you go to other sites, you're looked down upon. if you make friends outside of tumblr communities, you're looked down upon.

people feel like w/o the communities they've built on tumblr, they have no safety net elsewhere, probably bc they've cut contact with WAY too many people, probably plenty of people who didnt even deserve to be, and probably bc they disagreed on like 1 or 2 things. regardless, they cling to the tumblr "safety" net for dear life. "if no one else got me, i know tumblr got me, heres my paypal" essentially. you cant trust the world outside of tumblr to take care of you never of course, its all bad and horrible and can never be fixed or useful in any capacity, etc. burn it all down and start it again with tumblr users in charge and then it'll be perfect, or so they think.

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

Not rly st related, well maybe? 4th of July , but why are US-citizens so in love with their country? They even call themselves Americans when their nation is just one part of the continent, lol. If I were as obsessed with my country people would call me crazy. Oh and my granny is German and I know that many Germans are still scared to even wave their flag cos of past events, and the US isn't rly a nation of peace either. pls dont get me wrong, Im just curious and dont know any US people irl xD

I'm not going to pretend I'm an expert on the matter, but I do have something of an interest in history.

I think the patriotic spirit of Americans is as much a practical matter as it is a symbolic one. In the early Colonial days, citizens were more likely to identify themselves by their colony (i.e. Pennsylvanian or Virginian). They were also still British citizens at the time, and, even during the Revolution, many still stayed loyal to the king. Creating a sense of patriotism and a unified front would be crucial in presenting a realistic challenge to the British Empire. One of the rally flags of the Revolution was the Join or Die flag. It was not a threat, but a warning. We had to band together to stand a chance.

(For non-Americans, the colonies, as depicted from left to right, are South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, and New England.)

It may seem weird to think about it now, but my country was very much the underdog in any conflicts until the early 20th century. Defeats came often, and were, at times, devastating. War support would be extremely difficult if not for the sense that we were one people with something to defend. It's Tribalism, for good or ill. It's the same phenomena that results in sports fans going crazy when their team loses (or wins!) or makes people jump up to defend family members they may not even like. Everyone wants to "belong" to something, and, here in America, we created a sense of belonging to a country.

I'll admit that the American sense of patriotism came as a result of the cultivation of an "us vs them" attitude. The easiest way to get even a more modest US citizen to start waving a flag is for a foreign individual or state to insult our nation or culture.

The love of country still has a pragmatic component today, though. We have always been a nation of mixed cultures and ethnicities (even though some of them had no say in the matter), but that is true even more so today. Having a strong national identity and pride helps bring these different cultures together. While we still have no shortage of backwards, bigoted people, most of us welcome new additions to our culture.

Sadly, this concept of a unifying identity has been repeatedly challenged. One group or another would be deemed as "Un-American" or inferior, often by the more conservative among us. I imagine America's history of racial abuse and discrimination is known outside of my country. There's also the horrible crimes committed against the Native Americans and the internment of Japanese-Americans during World War 2. Socialists, or, indeed, any simply suspected of socialist sympathies, were often persecuted during the Cold War. The new millennium saw rising hostilities against Arab-Americans. This too also contributed to the American sense of patriotism, as these groups would sometimes go to great lengths to express that their political opinions or cultural backgrounds didn't diminish their love of country.

When it comes down to it, though, our patriotism and Fourth of July celebrations draws on that original underdog element. While I doubt anyone would call America the underdog anymore, we were still a country that probably never should have existed. By all rights, we had no business defeating the British in the Revolution. We somehow repelled a British invasion in 1812 (that we provoked, but still). The Union struggled massively early on in the Civil War in 1861 and came pretty close to having to deal with the British allying with the rebellious Confederacy. We are proud to be Americans for, if nothing else, simply managing to have the chance to be Americans.

We have no shortage of sin. Anyone who says otherwise is nationalistic, not patriotic. One of our greatest cultural values is the freedom to criticize our government, but the more extreme of us tend to forget that. Our military and political power also tends to result in being too willing to get into conflicts, often without a plan as to how to get out. We can often now be the snobs looking down our noses at the rest of the world. We're the ones fighting against the underdogs, at times suffering humiliating defeats. I personally feel we need to be humbled, at times, though.

Being such a diverse culture also means that sometimes the "wrong people" get power. Internal strife can become great, as disagreements as to how to run the country escalate and permeate every corner of the country. It often brings family member against family member, neighbor against neighbor, colleague against colleague, friend against friend. These celebrations are also a means to remind us, when things cool down, that we are still one.

At the end of the day, the same values and freedoms that we celebrate with our patriotism bring about the need for the patriotism. It's something of an oddly paradoxical cycle. Without the unifying sense of being of one country, the freedom to dissent, the freedom to express your religion or culture, and the freedom to express your individuality could all result in America and its culture breaking apart into separate entities. Oddly enough, it's these freedoms that ultimately bind us together, even if we each secretly feel that our neighbors are morons who have it all wrong.

As for why we call ourselves Americans, well, we simply don't have better options. The official name of the country is the United States of America. We wouldn't call ourselves United Staters, as that part of the country simply indicates that we're comprised of (currently 50) partially autonomous states. We'd more likely go back to calling ourselves by our individual states. For example, I'd identity myself as a Pennsylvanian. As far as I'm aware, people don't celebrate their individual state quite as much, with possibly the exception of Texans. The America part is the common element that binds us, so we become Americans.

I have heard of the German reluctance to express a sense of national pride like we do here. I can certainly understand that reluctance after what happened with the Holocaust. I think it's important to remember where you were. I fear my country sometimes tries to ignore the darker parts of our own history. I think our patriotic spirit remains because we like to believe we've grown past those events. In some ways we have, but I fear we often look the other way when it comes to remnants of those events. I admire Germany's refusal to forget what's happened, though I do think you might be punishing yourselves a bit too much.

For the record, I think we often overdo it with the patriotism. I don't agree, for example, with having kids recite the Pledge of Allegiance in school. I'm not sure how seriously most parents or kids take it anymore, though. It's mostly just become routine by now. I also don't buy into the whole "America First" garbage. Yes, our government has a responsibility to look out for our interests, but it shouldn't come at the expense of the needs and well-being of other countries.

I hope this somewhat answers your questions. I imagine I may have some errors with my facts or interpretations. Like I said, I'm no historian. This is simply my understanding of the matter.

[sparklydreamies]

Best Shot ~Ch 4

Group: Stray Kids

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 6700+

Summary: Han Jisung, certified quiet boy, has never really understood the hype about love and romance. That is until he has to step out of his comfort zone and onto the basketball court to impress that one person he can’t stop thinking about.

Main themes: highschool!AU, basketball!AU, internalized homophobia, friends-to-lovers

MASTERLIST

a/n: I guess I’m making his parents worse than I planned, I apologize for that ddnvm,, also Hyunjin’s a big cutie and I will love him forever 

CHAPTER 4 

Surprisingly, there are some people who enjoy high school. Some people wake up every day, content in their own life and surroundings, happy to go to school to their abundance of friends, fully enjoying and taking advantage of their limited youthful years. Some people are able to live their teenage years happily, comfortable with themselves. Unsurprisingly, they were a very rare breed.

High school, for most kids, is not like they see in the movies. It isn’t filled with parties, good friends, romance or happiness, but is instead filled completely with overwhelming school work and the burden of self discovery. The feeling of comfort in one’s own skin long gone as people work to construct how they wish to be seen in the eyes of their friends. The big secret that they don’t tell you in movies is that nobody loves themselves completely. You may be happy with your personality or physical appearance, but everybody has just that one thing about themselves that they can’t help but want to conceal in a box, never to be seen by other people. 

For example, Jisung didn’t want to like boys. There was no reason that he couldn’t have been interested in girls, with their soft curves, full lips, and pretty faces. He should have been like his friend Felix, who would willingly leave Jisung stranded in some desolate, dusty desert somewhere if it meant that he could have a shot with a college girl. 

Felix was the straightest boy Jisung knew. There was no way in hell that Jisung would ever feel very comfortable telling Felix his secret; he’s too worried that Felix would think he’s abnormal or strange. Although the more Jisung thinks about it, he wasn’t one hundred percent sure Felix would be wrong. 

Jisung was used to the guilty feeling that bloomed deep in his chest when he thought about telling his family. His homophobic, conservative family. Lord knows Jisung has sat through way too many nights of hearing his father shouting slurs and making offensive comments at the television, or at his friends, who often would laugh and retort with an insult of their own. 

Thinking about how his mother would react did nothing to help cool the fire that was burning his lungs. What would she blame it on? Where would she ship him off to in the hopes of changing his views and correcting his disorder? Jisung’s mind raced as he thought of what he would have to endure, all for the sake of his mother’s reputation. Heaven forbid she ever raised a son who liked boys. 

Jisung was plagued with these thoughts, eating away at his consciousness until he felt like he was suffocating in the reality and weight of his problem. He had no outlet for his frustration. He was all alone. All alone and deformed. A blasphemy. How could he like boys of all things?

Jisung tried not to think about his problem during the days leading up to his first basketball game, which was much easier said than done. Jisung was quickly beginning to understand how Felix would feel when he was with Dahyun, or any other girl for that matter. When Jisung saw Minho walking down the halls of their school, talking and laughing with his friends, smiling and waving at Jisung, it was like he completely lost the ability to breathe. No matter how much Jisung tried to suppress it, Minho had a tight grip on his heart. 

Mina was a big help to Jisung. After their little talk on the bleachers by the track, Jisung often felt himself relying on her kindness and support. The thought of bothering her with his stupid drama and inner turmoil made him feel guilty, but he sincerely felt like there was no way he could keep this to himself. He was just too confused and upset. 

Friday came sooner than Jisung would have liked. Friday’s were the official game days for the varsity boys basketball team. 

Of course, Jisung wouldn’t actually be playing. No, Jisung still didn’t have the level of skill that it would take to be an actual player, but he was happy to be just sitting on the bench. The idea of playing was leaving a sour feeling with Jisung, and it was not very helpful to him while he tried to focus on his studies. 

Contrary to the sick feeling Jisung had, Felix and Seungmin were buzzing with excitement all day. Jisung thought it was strange how they both seemed way happier about this than he did, but judging by how much they cared about social hierarchies, it was expected. 

“Maybe you can talk to Minho and see if he’ll let you play, even for just a quarter,” Felix suggested when the boys sat down for lunch that eventful Friday. Jisung scoffed at him. The last thing he wanted was to actually play. It was astonishing how Felix still didn’t grasp that concept. 

“Felix you idiot, Jisung can’t even hold the ball properly, no way Minho will let him play,” Seungmin answered, making Felix giggle. Jisung shot him an exasperated look. 

“Not true,” Jisung denied, “Hyunjin says I’m better than I think I am. It’s not that I can’t play, it’s that I don’t want to play,”

“Because you don’t want to embarrass yourself?” Felix teased, but there was honestly nothing Jisung could counter about that question. He knew that he had basic skills, but nothing outstanding. Once he begins private practices with Hyunjin, maybe he’ll begin to improve. After all, Hyunjin obviously knows what he is doing when it comes to basketball. 

“Hey, since when are you such good friends with Hyunjin?” Seungmin asked, “Didn’t you hate him like a week ago?” 

“No, not hate him,” Jisung said in a small voice. There was a small beat of awkward silence before Seungmin changed the subject. Jisung was grateful for that. 

“Whatever. Felix did you end up figuring out the history homework, or are you going to freeload off my answers again?” Seungmin asked, and the conversation went off from there. 

Jisung was barely participating in the conversation, and he ended up completely tuning Felix out while the boy talked about why he didn’t do the assignment. Instead, Jisung’s eye was drawn to a vibrant colour he saw from across the cafeteria. Of course, it was the bright red, tell tale sign of the varsity basketball team. Jisung wanted to avert his gaze, but his eyes decided to focus themselves on the soft features of the boy who was unknowingly ruining his life. 

Jisung watched as Minho laughed at something Youngjae said, and they took a seat on the opposite corner of the room. Jisung was still zoned out, wondering what they were talking about when two fingers snapped in front of his face, drawing his attention away from the boys. 

“Ji?” Felix asked, chuckling at him, “are you good?” 

Jisung shook himself out of his thoughts and nodded a yes. He turned to look at Seungmin, who was giving him a questioning gaze. There was a small period of silence once again, before Jisung asked “what?” 

“We were asking if you’re exited about tonight, stupid,” Seungmin repeated. 

“I mean, I guess so,” Jisung coughed awkwardly, “like I said, I’m not really going to play,” 

“Well play or not, we’re still going to support you,” Seungmin said. Jisung blushed a bit out of embarrassment. 

Felix smiled, “oh yeah Ji, we might make posters too,” 

“I know you guys are joking, but please do not do that,” Jisung warned, feeling too embarrassed to even imagine the horrible sight that would be. Felix and Seungmin, sitting in the middle of a sea of high schoolers, holding homemade signs, whooping whenever Jisung took a drink of water. Absolutely the last thing Jisung needed.

“Felix, I don’t know if I have any glitter glue left at my house though, we might have to pick some more up,” Seungmin said, and all three boys started laughing. 

----

“Attention teachers. At this time, please dismiss all members of the varsity boys basketball team, as today is game day. Good luck boys, we wish you luck!”

Jisung felt his stomach tighten slightly at the announcement. He saw across the room that Hyunjin, whom he shared last period with, was packing up his books and getting ready to leave. He gave Jisung a reassuring smile. Jisung nervously began to pack up his belongings, shoving them into his backpack. 

Jisung wasn’t nervous about playing the game, as he knew he was just there as a spare in the unlikely case that two of the team members got injured and they needed their last resort extra. He wasn’t nervous about the possibility of losing the game, because it wasn’t that important to him. So what was the reason for his unwelcome feeling of anxiety? Why was he so nervous? It’s not like he’s alone, he has Hyunjin, Minho, and everyone else on the team who has grown to be friendly acquaintances with Jisung over the past week. 

He had no more time to try and untangle his thoughts, as he was being led out the classroom door by Hyunjin, who was calling a last goodbye to their teacher. 

“Are you nervous?” Hyunjin asked. Of course Jisung was nervous. It’s in his nature to be nervous about everything. Jisung felt his heartbeat in his throat.

“No, not at all,” Jisung answered, sounding surprisingly calm despite the feelings he was experiencing. 

“Liar,” Hyunjin mumbled, shoving Jisung’s shoulder as they walked. Jisung smiled. It was nice to have Hyunjin around; he always seemed to understand Jisung’s emotions, yet never judged him. It was just like their old times, when Jisung would be upset about the insignificant drama of their sixth grade class, and Hyunjin would always be there to cheer him up. 

“Shut up,” Jisung whispered as they reached the gym hallway. He took a breath before shoving the heavy door of the change room open with his shoulder. 

Once Jisung opened the door, he was met with loud music echoing off the walls, and the faint smell of sweat. He wrinkled his nose at the stench, wondering what the room would smell like after the boys played an hour of basketball. 

Hyunjin led Jisung to the back corner of the room, where they usually sit. All around them, boys were getting undressed and changed into their horribly designed uniforms. Jisung once again felt awkward and slightly self conscious changing in front of these boys. He feels awkward enough exposing his own skin to these boys, but pair that with the fact that he just realized he likes men. His doubts were eased slightly when he saw Hyunjin slip off his uniform shirt beside him. 

Jisung began to get undressed when the door swung open again. The sound of the heavy door swinging open rang throughout the already noisy room. Jeongin paused the music blaring from his speaker once the team captain walked in. Jisung was suddenly brought back to the back that not only was he shirtless and exposed in front of the other boys, but he was half naked in front of Lee Minho. 

He felt embarrassment slowly creep up on him and make his ears burn. Minho didn’t spare him a glance, yet Jisung still felt ashamed. He quickly slid on his basketball shirt, thankful that it covered his chest. 

When the boys were all ready and the last bell rang for the school day, Minho made his way to the middle of the room, clearing his throat and grabbing everyone’s attention. Jisung saw how Minho rolled up the sleeves on his jersey shirt, and he thought it made Minho look even cooler in it than he previously thought. 

“Alright boys,” Minho started, and the remaining murmurs echoing in the room ceased. “We’re off to a good start this season, but we need to keep it up.” Jisung saw some of the boys nod, and some of them clapped lightly. “Our biggest difficulty this season is our defense, which I went over lightly last practice. It’s not enough to score points, we also have to keep the other team from scoring points,” he continued. Minho suddenly pointed towards Jisung, and he felt like his heart stopped. 

“On another note, today is Jisung’s very first game!” Minho announced, and the rest of the team began to whoop at that, making Jisung’s blushing face fall into his hands. This was too much attention for him. Hyunjin smiled dumbly and shoved Jisung’s shoulder. “Let’s show him how winning feels, yeah?” Minho suggested, his voice getting louder. There was a booming chorus of agreements from the team. “Yeah?” Minho repeated, his voice very loud now. “Let’s go!” He called, opening the heavy doors and holding it for the team to pass through. 

Unlike during practices which were private for the most part, the school gymnasium was packed full with students and a few parents occupying the bleachers on the side of the court. 

The energy in the space was electric, and Jisung found himself wondering how he had never been to a basketball game before. Maybe it was due to the fact that he never saw the interest in watching sweaty boys wrestle a ball away from each other. 

A loud holler from the bleachers drew Jisung’s attention to his two best friends, cheering him on. Jisung smiled at them, but spared no more than that as he jogged over to the bench where he would be staying for the entirety of the game. 

All around him, his teammates were warming up, executing drills Jisung remembered from practice, and stretching. Jisung himself tried to get his heart rate up, but for no particular reason other than to not look like he didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. 

Basketball is an interesting sport, Jisung concluded by the halftime mark. It wasn’t as slow as golf or even baseball, but it wasn’t as fast as hockey. There was a noticeable grace to the players as they made their formations, utilizing plays and techniques learned from hours of practice. The way that they relied on their teammates was quite cool to Jisung. It was like they were a machine, each component with their own mission, all working together for the greater good. 

By the time halftime rolled around, Jisung’s team was losing, significantly. The tension was obviously high; Jisung could see that from the exasperated faces of his teammates, and the obvious overconfidence from the other team. 

Hyunjin didn’t even bother to pat Jisung on the shoulder, or ruffle his hair on his way to his water bottle. He looked focused, concentrating on the present game. Minho looked even worse. 

Sweat was dripping all down the side of his face and his neck, shining under the harsh lights of the gym. His hair was completely stuck to his forehead, and his eyes were serious. Jisung felt a little bit intimidated from the strange change in the other’s behavior. Jisung had never experienced Minho to be this determined and fierce. His features were sharper, and there was a fire in his expression. The sight took Jisung’s breath away. 

“Guys, what are we doing out there?” Minho ran his hand through his hair in an attempt to get it off his forehead, “We’re playing like amateurs. We are sloppy, not coordinated, and we’re playing way too rushed. We’re throwing the ball away, and it’s going right to the other team. That isn’t the way to win, right?” he asked, and there were a few agreements from the team. Jisung internally chuckled, because before, he thought the team was very much in sync. “I want to win this game just as much as you guys do. So let’s slow ourselves down, okay? Play smarter, not harder,” he concluded. 

He then led the team into a loud cheer, hyping up the home crowd. The boys made their way back onto the court, wiping their sweaty foreheads on their jerseys. Jisung didn’t miss the way that some girls swooned over them, catching some of the boys’ attention. 

After the third quarter commenced, Jisung was a bit astounded. It was almost as if Minho had flipped a switch with his words. Progress came slowly, but sure enough, they began to climb the scoreboard. Jisung felt himself grow more and more invested in the game as he watched the boys fly across the court, ball after ball into the other team’s hoop. 

Jisung watched, his heart in his throat, as Hyunjin expertly sank a three-pointer. He jumped in his seat, which caught the eye of Hyunjin himself, who was smiling ear-to-ear like an idiot. 

When the team pilled back into the change room after the game, the adrenaline was enough to choke on. Jisung was ecstatic, bumping into and high fiving his teammates after his first ever win. 

Jisung understood why people care about sports. At least, he was starting to. There was a sense of family in that change room after that game, and Jisung bathed in it. Even if he wasn’t that close with the members yet, he felt more than accepted as he was pulled into a hug from Choi Youngjae. 

“Settle down!” yelled a voice coming from the door, and Jisung turned around to see Minho standing there, proudly smiling, obviously basking in the post-victory high. 

One by one, the boys moved to their spots, and let Minho give them a final talk about how they played, and where they would rank in the standings after beating this team. Jisung didn’t catch too much, he was preoccupied by Hyunjin bumping into his side, still smiling so hard he might split his face open. 

Once they were changed, Hyunjin led Jisung out of the change room, and into the school’s main hallway. They passed a slew of people that were waiting for their player friends to change quickly so they could leave. He passed by a few dejected faces of boys from the other school. 

Jisung did not expect Hyunjin leaning towards the other players and sincerely congratulating them on their game. There wasn’t a hint of passive-aggressiveness in his voice at all, but rather there was real sincerity. 

“Why are you doing that?” Jisung whispered to him. 

“What, talking to the other guys?” Jisung nodded, still giving him questioning eyes, “Well, they played a really good game, and I know I would appreciate it if I got complimented from the other players,” Hyunjin explained, leaning away from Jisung to congratulate another young looking boy. 

Jisung shook his head. Of course Hyunjin was just about the sweetest person alive. It was no different from when they were kids. Everybody loved Hyunjin because he was nice, and didn’t make fun of people. That’s probably also the reason Jisung’s mother was so infatuated with Hyunjin. Who doesn’t want their son to be friends with such a polite and well mannered boy? 

“Hyunjin, you were great,” Jisung said, once they passed a small crowd of what looked like freshmen, “honestly, I think you won that for us,” 

Hyunjin gave a small laugh. A blush slightly painted his cheeks, which he failed to hide from Jisung. “Are you trying to steal my thing from me?” he countered, giving an offended glare. 

Jisung slapped him lightly in the arm. “No, I just think you did really well!” 

Hyunjin smiled fondly, focusing his gaze on the ground in front of them. “It was Minho all the way,” he said, “but thanks,”

Jisung was about to argue with him when something caught his eye. A slight glimmer of fluorescent lights hitting jet black hair. He turned slightly to examine, and almost choked on his breath when he saw the familiar pale skin and small stature. 

He remembered the pretty girl quite vividly; he remembered feeling her pressed against him in a dark hallway, stealing rushed kisses from him. He also remembered the awkward moment when he pushed her away, and shuddered. Jisung tried to keep his head down and walk, lest he make eye contact and relive the painful memory, but of course, life is a bitch. 

“Jisung!” someone called from that direction, however it wasn’t the soft spoken voice of the pretty little girl from the party. Instead, it was the deep and recognizable voice of Lee Felix. 

Hyunjin was the first to turn, smiling wide at the smaller boy, pushing Jisung towards that general direction. Jisung saw Felix had his arm around the waist of a gorgeous blonde girl. Of course, Jisung recognized her as Kim Dahyun. 

“Good game! Does your ass have splinters from sitting on the bench?” Seungmin called, Felix laughing with him. Typical of Seungmin. Jisung landed a fairly hard punch right on the bone in his arm, sure to leave a bruise. 

Jisung’s eyes raised to meet Nayeon’s. The girl tucked her soft hair behind her ear. 

“So I’ve been told that you two know each other,” Dahyun teased, poking her friend in the side. Nayeon blushed slightly, mumbling a small warning to drop it. 

Jisung saw the gross look in Felix’s eyes. It was the type of look that says “my friend is definitely going to get some”. Jisung wrinkled his nose and drew his attention away from his perverted friend. 

“It’s fine,” Jisung awkwardly mumbled. “Have you met Hwang Hyunjin?” he asked, changing the subject away from the girl who looked quite nervous. 

As Dahyun and Hyunjin made each other’s acquaintance, Jisung couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor girl. He didn’t want Nayeon to think that she forced herself on him, or that he had any harsh feelings towards her in any way. She still avoided his gaze. 

Jisung figured that was expected. If the tables were turned and Nayeon pushed Jisung away, he would feel absolutely ashamed of himself. 

“Anyways, I think it’s time we should go, I’m driving Jisung home,” Hyunjin said, causing Jisung to snap back into reality at the mention of his name. 

“Uh yeah, we should get going,” he agreed, “it was nice seeing you guys again,” he waved at Dahyun and Nayeon. 

The two boys stiffly made their way to the school’s main entrance, where Hyunjin’s car was parked. Hyunjin made some stupid joke about riding shotgun or something, which Jisung found hard to pretend to laugh at. 

“So,” Hyunjin started once they got into the car. Hyunjin fired up the engine, making his way slowly to the road, among all the post-game traffic. “Who was the cutie?” he asked. 

Jisung groaned at the intrusive question. Why can’t Hyunjin just not bother to care? The answer was because being nosy is a part of Hyunjin’s personality. “She’s nobody,” he answered, brushing off the question.

“That doesn’t sound convincing,” Hyunjin mumbled, pulling out of the parking lot. 

“She’s just a girl,” 

Hyunjin laughed at his friend. “Felix was looking like he was expecting you two to take your clothes off right there,” 

“Jesus, dude!” Jisung cried out, trying to hit his head against the window to the sound of Hyunjin’s giggles. “She’s just a girl that I fooled around with once, okay? Not a big deal.” he reluctantly answered. Hwang Hyunjin was a pain in the ass. 

Of course, Hyunjin began his chorus of oohs, causing Jisung to cover his face. “I think...” Hyunjin trailed off. Jisung uncovered his face to see what caused Hyunjin to stop talking. “I think you like her,” Hyunjin teased. 

Jisung almost burst out laughing. The irony of that conclusion was astounding. It was crazy how someone could be so wrong about a topic. Just imagine the shock Hyunjin would feel if he found out about Jisung’s little crush on Minho. 

“What?” Hyunjin asked. Jisung just shook his head. 

"I don’t like Nayeon,” Jisung pressed, still trying to gain control of his laughter, “please drop it,” he said. 

Hyunjin mumbled a “fine” under his breath. 

After a second of silence, Hyunjin spoke again. “Is there anybody that you do have a thing for?” he asked. 

Jisung paused his breathing. The way that Hyunjin asked that made Jisung’s mind immediately conclude that Hyunjin knew about Minho. 

How did he know? Jisung wasn’t that obvious. He didn’t tell anybody except for Mina. Did Mina tell Hyunjin? No, Mina isn’t close with Hyunjin. Did Mina tell other people, which got passed around from person to person until it hit Hyunjin? Did the whole school know?

No. They didn’t. Jisung willed himself to calm down, as he didn’t know whether or not this was even the topic Hyunjin was regarding. 

“No, not really,” Jisung said weakly, hoping that Hyunjin couldn’t see past his bullshit. 

“You never seem to be interested in anybody,” Hyunjin chuckled. Jisung felt himself loosen up as the atmosphere grew light again. “That’s a real shame, you’d make a great boyfriend,” he joked. 

Fuck Jisung’s mind for overthinking. 

----

“There you are,” Chaeryeong called from the kitchen. The smell of something cooking greeted Jisung as he walked through the front door. Chaeryeong was stirring a pot of something on the stove, making dinner like she usually is expected to. “How was the game?” she asked. 

“Fine, we won,” he answered. Chaeryeong moved around the kitchen some more, handling this and that. Jisung always admired his sister’s cooking skills; he had never been much of a chef himself. 

Jisung’s mother wasn’t around too much to cook for her children, and when she was, she was often too tired or unmotivated. As the oldest girl, the duty was passed onto Chaeryeong from a young age. Jisung never found it that fair, but Chaeryeong never complained. When Jisung would offer to share the work with her, she would just smile and say she would rather make something edible than eat whatever Jisung would make. Chaeryeong might be annoying at times, but she was a responsible and tolerant girl. 

Chaeryeong smiled and gave him a quick congratulations for his victory before the sound of a yell rang through their home. Chaeryeong froze in her spot.

Jisung’s face dropped. “Why is he here, I thought he wasn’t coming until tomorrow?” he whispered to Chaeryeong. She gave him a sort of exasperated shrug as she tried to continue her work. 

“His meetings for tomorrow got cancelled, so he decided to come back early,” Chaeryeong said, “believe me, I was just as surprised as you,”

The man that was currently occupying their living room was Jisung’s father. No doubt he was trying to yell at the soccer referees through the television. 

Jisung and Chaeryeong’s father was just about the least likable man they know of. 

Jisung’s parents had tarnished Jisung’s perception of healthy relationships from a very young age. Sure, every marriage has their ups and downs, but it wasn’t until Jisung was eleven or twelve years old that he realized not everybody’s parents dissolve into screaming matches during every conversation.

If Jisung was being honest, a lot of the worst moments from his childhood had resulted due to his father’s loud arrogance and his mother’s stubborn judgement. The only reason they haven’t gotten divorced yet is because Jisung’s mother is so occupied with thinking about what her friends would think about her. Her incapability of pleasing her husband like a good wife should. It was better for her to silently accept the hellish life she had created for herself, while simultaneously ruining her children’s childhoods all for the “greater good”.

If his parents were to get a divorce, there is no doubt in Jisung’s mind that he would rather live with his mother. Even though she could be harsh and mean, she could also be a decent mother. Jisung’s father was never much of a father. It was easy to have conversations with his mother when she was in the right mood. Sometimes however, when Jisung thinks about his mother, the bad memories are always what surface first. The memories of her calling him useless, saying he ruined her promising life, saying that he was a disappointment. 

That sort of thing can really hurt a kid. 

Jisung’s house sometimes felt like a war zone. It was almost impossible to dodge the bullets that his parents were always firing around, attempting to blame others for their own unhappiness. If he managed to avoid being shot with harsh words from his parents, surely he would make a comment, or do something that would set off a landmine of arguments and yelling throughout his house. 

Jisung had learned through many years of struggling to avoid the sharp words of his parents that when the two of them were both home together, it was the best move to be out of the house. 

“Chae,” he whispered, trying to quietly make his way into where his sister was still cooking, “let’s go out somewhere,” 

Chaeryeong nodded quickly at him, “but I have to finish their dinner, or we’ll be in deep shit,” she said, moving to take the sauce off of the stove. Jisung gave her a little pat on the shoulder as he moved to silently make his way upstairs to his room, without alerting his parents that he was home. 

Chaeryeong had it harder than Jisung, he knew. His parents rarely expected him to do anything, but they essentially forced Chaeryeong to do their cooking and cleaning. She is still young; she doesn’t deserve to be treated like a maid because her parents don’t like making their own meals. 

It was useless trying to understand the logic Jisung’s parents had when it came to raising kids. 

Jisung changed out of his school uniform and into his casual clothes before making his way back downstairs to see if Chaeryeong was ready to leave yet. He quietly made his way down the stairs, moving so expertly down the wood where he knew it wouldn’t creak. Unfortunately, it was all in vain when he heard his mother’s voice in the kitchen. 

“Call me when it’s time- oh, Jisung you’re home,” she said when Jisung walked into the kitchen, “how was your day?” 

“It was good mom,” Jisung said, but he could tell she wasn’t paying that much attention. 

“Did you say hi to your father yet?” she said, and before Jisung could object, she was calling his name, beckoning him over to greet his son. Jisung saw Chaeryeong shrug at him. Jisung dangled his car keys to signal that he still wanted to get the hell out of there, which she silently agreed with. 

Jisung didn’t have any urge to talk to his father. To his dismay, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps coming from the living room, followed by mumbles of “the game is on,” and such. 

Jisung’s dad wasn’t a bad looking man. Sometimes Jisung thinks if he had a better personality, he might even be a decent catch. His father was tall, with very dark hair and a fairly slim build. He was decent looking enough for many people to envy his mother, however those people never saw the real person that he was. The person who shamelessly bashes his family, while at the same time expects to be treated like a king. 

Jisung doesn’t care about how his father insults him, his academics, his looks or his friends, but it kills Jisung to see how he hurts Chaeryeong. Chaeryeong is a bright and happy girl, but Jisung can see the way that his father tears down her confidence. 

He breaks her down so easily with his judgments. Jisung’s skin crawls every time he thinks about his father casually bringing up her looks and her weight, saying she should eat less if she wants a husband. Jisung never fails to notice how her face drops, and her entire aura becomes sad and insecure. Jisung hates to see her like that. 

“How have you been, Jisung?” Jisung’s father asked when he entered the room, “I almost didn’t recognize you, you’ve changed,”

“I hope that’s a good thing,” Jisung mumbled, and grabbed his father’s extended hand. 

“I still think you could build some muscle, it wouldn’t hurt you,” Jisung nodded at his father. It was honestly best not to interact too much with him. “You should consider playing a sport or something, lord knows you have so much free time,” 

“Well Jisung is playing on the school basketball team now,” Chaeryeong piped up from where she was cutting bread. So much for not interacting much with him. 

Jisung’s eyes widened as this sunk in. Jisung never told his mother that he was going to join the team. She barely likes him working his job while trying to study, Jisung knew that him playing basketball would make her livid. 

“What did she say?” his mother asked. Only then did Chaeryeong seem to process the fact that Jisung’s mother didn’t know. “The team that Hyunjin is on? Why didn’t I know about this?”

“I was going to tell you, but-” Jisung was cut off.

“My son is a basketball player?” Jisung’s dad asked, suddenly very interested in this conversation. 

Jisung’s mother didn’t have the angry or upset look in her eyes that Jisung was expecting, but rather she looked almost offended. Offended and disappointed that Jisung ignored her opinions and thoughts about focusing on things other than studies. 

“Jisung likes being on the team, right Ji?” Chaeryeong asked him, trying to make up for her previous mistake.

“I really do,” Jisung said, shifting his eyes between his mother’s exasperated ones, and his father’s curious ones. 

Jisung’s father patted him on the shoulder, “you’ve never been the athletic type. Maybe this will change that,” he said, snaking his arm around Jisung’s tense shoulders, which Jisung ultimately shrugged off. 

“I wish you would have told me,” Jisung’s mother said quietly, “I’m not worried about your school. You’re doing fine in your classes, but I don’t want you to take your foot off of the gas.” she said. 

“I know that, it’s just that this means a lot to me, and I’m having a lot of fun with the team,” he explained. 

Jisung’s mother gave a sort of small whine. Her expression was unreadable to Jisung. She ran her fingers through her dark hair, usually a sign that she was upset about something. 

“You’re having too much fun with the team,” she said, barely louder than a whisper. “I’m too tired for this, I worked hard all day,” she said, and with that, she turned on her heels and headed towards the stairs, up to her bedroom. 

Jisung gave Chaeryeong a panicked look, but she just signaled to him that he should let her go and have her space. Jisung felt guilt pile up in his chest, however he could not bring himself to figure out what to do about it. He didn’t know how he could make his mother less disappointed. 

Jisung’s father, unlike Jisung and his sister, obviously was not phased by the exit of his wife.

“So what, have you had any games yet?” he asked, but Jisung gave him a cold shoulder. Silently, Jisung turned away from his father, and called Chaeryeong over. 

“Oh.. Dad, Jisung and I have something to do, we’ll be back later..” Chaeryeong called, “dinner is ready, help yourself, and please try and see if mom will eat,” 

----

Most people prefer to have a destination in their minds while driving with their baby sisters, but it didn’t matter to Jisung. He was just happy that him and Chaeryeong were able to breathe outside that house. 

And so, their evening consisted mainly of them driving around, talking about pointless things until they found a place where they could get quick food. 

“What...” Jisung asked, once him and Chaeryeong settled into a parking lot outside of the local variety store, “what did mom mean by I’m having too much fun?” Jisung asked, fiddling with the little straw in his drink. 

“Don’t act like she didn’t have to feel the embarrassment of her only son being dragged home at three in the morning by some good looking neighbor boy,” she answered, “I’m all for that lifestyle. I’d let Hyunjin drag me anywhere. But mom is different,”

Jisung refrained from gagging at the gross comment about Hyunjin, and instead focused on what Chaeryeong was saying about their mother. She didn’t want her children going out and drinking like delinquents. She valued studies and ambition. 

“Mom is just afraid of what people would think of her as a mother if you became like Hyunjin, Chan, or any other of those guys.” 

Chaeryeong was making sense. Before Jisung could agree with her, he felt a rhythmic vibration in his pocket. His heart almost exploded out of his chest at the caller ID. 

Why the hell was Lee Minho calling Jisung at quarter after nine? 

“Uh, hold- hold on,” Jisung stumbled over his words, unbuckling his seat belt and snaking his way out of his car to gain some privacy. Jisung took a small breath before clicking the green answer button. 

“Hi Minho, what’s going on?” Jisung asked, wincing at the way his voice sounds broken. 

“Jisung, Jisung,” Minho answered, words slurred slightly, “everybody shut up!”

Jisung had to hold the phone slightly away from his ear as Minho yelled at whoever was probably in the room with him. 

“Is everything okay?” Jisung asked, and Minho chuckled. 

“Everything is fucking amazing! We’re at Chan’s house with booze, will you come? Please?” Minho whined. Jisung couldn’t help but notice how cute Minho’s voice sounded when he whined like that. The boy was already adorable, but Jisung felt his heart clench when he heard the soft words. 

Still though, he had Chaeryeong with him. Not only that, but he should be going home soon before his mother beats him. Jisung thought about what his mother had said about him having too much fun with his team. He felt his heart clench again, except this was not the sweet torture of the cute brunette on the other line of the phone, but rather the guilt of what he was doing to his mother. 

“I can’t Minho, I’m so sorry,” he said, and he heard the other boy whine again. Jisung figured that Minho must be pretty drunk, because he seemed way different than this at the original party at Bang Chan’s. The original party where the roles were reversed, and Jisung was the very drunk one. 

“Why not?” Minho asked.

“Because I’m busy right now, okay? Are you okay there?” Jisung asked, and Minho laughed again, except this time it was more like a giggle than a chuckle. 

“Mhm,” he said, “oh and also before I forget,” Minho started, “it’s team tradition...” the boy trailed off. 

Jisung waited a beat before asking “tradition to what?” 

“Don’t you know? All new players have to throw a party,” Minho said, “it’s welcoming tradition,”

Jisung felt his stomach drop. There was no way that he would be able to throw a party and still have the respect of his mother. 

“I’ll have to talk to you about it when you’re sober, okay?” Jisung said, noticing that Chaeryeong was banging on the glass window, signaling that it was close to nine thirty, which is the time that their mother wants them home most nights. 

“Jisung don’t go,” Minho begged, “will you sing for me?”

Jisung waited a second before realizing that Minho was being serious. “...no” he said, “Minho, I have to go,” Jisung said, and he knew that he wasn’t going to get a proper response back when he heard the other boy begin singing loudly. 

Jisung hung up the phone and got back into the car. 

“Who was that?” Chaeryeong asked, buckling her seat belt up.

Jisung did the same as he answered “it was Minho,” 

“Minho? Like Lee Minho?” she asked. 

“The one and only,” Jisung started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, beginning their drive back to their house. 

“What did he want?” 

“He wanted me to throw a party.. apparently it’s some sort of team tradition, I don’t know,” Jisung answered, realizing how dumb the request was. No way he was going to throw a party for a bunch of dumb jock basketball players that would inevitably end up in a wreaked house and a panic attack. 

What Jisung wasn’t expecting was his baby sister to ask him “you’re going to do it though, right?” 

[sunnysynthsunshine]

3rd Comedy Monologue

“Do any of you remember Rugrats?”

“The 90s cartoon about talking babies that went on adventures”

“Yeah well you know Angelica the whiny,spoiled character?”

“I actually kind of liked her maybe it’s because I related to her when I was little or maybe it’s because I liked how cool she was she was able to tell the babies about stuff they didn’t know about, playing a part in their imagination.”

Anyways speaking of children,they’re alright and they are usually one of the following

“Mummy Daddy why do they get to pick a sweet not me what did I do?”

“Waaaa I want that I want that”

“Hi there, do you want to play?

“Your good at art,I couldn’t draw like that”

“Thank you young soul you are too pure for this world”

Me on the other hand,was a whinging cowardly little sod

Now I’m not a child anymore but I am still mistaken as one

Yeah,that happens

17/18 years old,old enough to vote,old enough to drive,old enough to move house & old enough to realise my phases of being a tory “skeptic” were pointless

Yet sometimes people still think I’m someone who likes ice-cream,toys and video games

Well I mean I do like those things I’m sure some of you like those things too

We are children at heart but physically and mentally we evolve and learn with time

I’ll be an young adult,and I love it I might not have a place of my own yet but I love being able to learn new things and see new places I couldn’t see when I was a kid.

Then again my teenhood wasn’t that good either because I had a developmental condition that made me different than others mentally,my interests were very intense and I got panic feelings when around crowds or in difficult situations

My primary school classmates liked JLS,Partying and other things that I didn’t like or couldn’t do

While now I’m warming up to certain things I’m still happy I didn’t like JLS.

I on the other hand, liked the sims 3,dolls,the 1980s,old cartoons and films.

So...a game where you become God,plastic models,the age of neon graphic design, and innovative video games and...yeah that hasn’t changed has it?

Well I don’t play the sims anymore,my laptop has no cd rom drive,I used up the data on my old one, from downloads I’d buy from the exchange store

Sims also was one of the few things that got me into my “emo” phase

I’d be looking at sims videos on youtube they’d usually be very sad and in the background there’d be evanescence,my chemical romance or avril lavigne

I’d be sitting at the back of the living room at a gathering and I’d be listening to Sims 2 sad story part 1 because it had good music. I later learned the names and that I was a bit of a goth,a emo,a metalhead because I liked gothic and j-metal any of that.

Dolls…..

now this was embarrassing I’m sure we all have those songs where as soon as you hear them you feel a film reel of negative memories return. For me that was

Barbie Girl by Aqua, weird because aqua are a good band,but that song oh that song it was so annoying

Picture this

Someone in their final primary school years, who still collects dolls,

Now!  Would you ignore that or would you use that outdated song as a way to mock them because they were still enjoying a thing, meant for children.

I received the latter,because of that when I’d hear people sing that song simply just because they liked it I’d get confused and offended a similar thing happened with my little pony

I used to sing and perform for people in the playgrounds other times I’d keep to myself

I loved my little pony before the new wave I loved rewatching episodes of the old 80s mlp series of goblins,witches and giants...oops that was a different show I was describing there

And one of the songs I’d perform was the original theme song

My Little Pony~ My Little Pony~

What will today’s adventure be?

My Little Pony…My Little Pony

Will there be exciting sights to see?

Nope to some of my primary school audience the lyrics were

“My little pony skinny and boney”

*sarcastic deadpan laugh*

Ha ha ha,  

Then again I wasn’t much better

I used to make youtube videos with those “dolls”

They weren’t very good

They had bad editing and barely any plot beyond badly structured fourth wall jokes

Yet I wanted the whole internet to know about them even if they weren’t interested

I was a easy target and while I did get tired of that,change interests and go into a different fandom direction

Some things were still the same

I was still cowardly,weak and timid and that was a problem

I was always following others,I didn’t make my decisions often,because of the condition and my own loneliness I couldn’t do things other teenagers could.

I never had a sleepover,I never had a crush that wasn’t one-sided and I didn’t have much independence

Even when I did have “friends” those friends I would later learn were not nice making me believe I had wasted years that I couldn’t get back.

On...the topic of regrets, dance  something I sometimes enjoy but when I studied performing Arts it was what I dreaded…

Note I’m ok with  anyone who does like to dance,party or do any of those things

I would just try to take part like everyone else but many times I was put aside or embarrassed in front of the others because of either me having a meltdown or because “my timing was off”

Yes,he did teach me some cool moves and I am more supple now but that was the content and even if I was crap I knew it and tried to practice

Everyday I’d practice each technical exercise and routine but it was still not good enough.in fact it was because of that and other reasons that I couldn’t do that course anymore

All because of,of….Craig Revel Hor not him but he was like him.

Because of that I had to take saturday dance classes...those weren’t fun

The most fun I had was from the songs we danced to and the few positive examples of small talk I attempted with the people there.

Otherwise it was not good...me and little kids specifically loud hyper kids don’t always go well when in the same place..again my timing was off it wasn’t told but I could tell

One of the moments I hated the most was the headshot day

Now we were supposed to just be getting photos taken but the photographer noticed I was shorter than she thought.I laughed it off because I know I’m short but then what did she say in response…

“Your a wee bit vertically challenged”

EXCUSE ME

Now,I may be short but in a class of kids and teens of different ages and heights I was far from the shortest person there.

When I was a teenager I wasn’t a proper teenager the only things that made me a teenager was my age,my angsty attitude and the drama I got into involving political meme posters and anime roleplayers.

The less I say about that the better

So while all the “adults” were telling me to beware of the adult years because of

Oooh responsibilities...ooooh independence ooooh….education

Honestly  it’s ok for me so far I’m a fairly organized person so studying is good,I did a assistant stage managing gig for a west side story production which was class by the way and I think i’ll feel a lot happier as a adult.

I have not much to mock about today my political jabs are sometimes good other times they’re like a bad Ben Elton joke on Saturday Live.

“Ha teresa may is like the wicked queen from snow white when she’s in disguise”

yeah? …..and  You look like you could front the band Wings mate

(pause)

Speaking of a bad Ben Elton joke

“Oh I never really understood the whole “comedy” business I always prefered being a bit of a writer and I think now with Bohemian Rhapsody being out that those critics will think

We Will Rock You wasn’t that bad.”

Wouldn’t it be nice if there was a show that layered it’s satire of the mainstream establishment under a sitcom narrative about alternative young adult characters where the comedy was good

for once

Once in every life time

Comes a moment like this

Oh I need you, you need me,

Oh my darling can't you see.

Young Ones.

Darling we're The Young Ones.

The Young Ones.

That show,oh I only watched last year but I have so many words

The jokes,the satire,the characters,the setting,the fact it still holds up

I found that show at the right time

It was august 2017

I had finished my GCSE’s,I had left a manipulative friendship and I felt horrible

When I’d go to the cinema people were making noise and I would remember the panic more than the film itself *coughs* Spiderman homecoming

I felt like I didn’t know how to laugh anymore

Summertime sadness

When edgy me came across ben elton’s ronnie barker memorial lecture

Being a fan of Porridge and Open All hours I listened and after hearing about a certain sitcom  I started watching...The Young Ones...and it was out of this world

I roared with laughter with each episode,I related to the characters and I felt a connection of some sort

Researching more about the “alternative comedy” genre and I saw a familiar name

I learned I had seen some of his work before,he was the andrex puppy,he was in that king Arthur cartoon and he was in that drop dead fred movie I didn’t watch just because internet critics said it was one of the biggest cinematic flops ever….

Yet I never knew his name until then and I’m still not over that

I looked up his other work,where he was richie,richie rich,lord flashheart and a b’stard of a conservative

(which I would later try to do an impression of, on my final girls brigade show.)

So many thoughts,so many emotions he changed my life

Many things and people have. He is one of them  

his work was incredible and iconic  and his mantras are very inspirational and useful. He made me realise a lot of things about life,my love of his work also resulted in me meeting most of the friends I have now.

It’s 2019 and I’m now the anarchist I always wanted to be,I’m out of my shell, a bat out of hell,I followed others for too long but I’m my own person now that’s who I will always be

Now say it with me   Young Ones..

You shouldn't be afraid.

To live, love, there's a song to be sung.

Cause we may not

Be The Young Ones

very long.

Oh,Doctor Rik.Mayall we miss you,you bastard

The world wasn’t as much of a crap place when you were there to cheer us up

But your still here spiritually in her hearts

As you said yourself we still have your shows  and poems

Now!  all you punks,skins,rastas,emos,hipsters,creators,viewers,performers,entertainers,observers and fellow peoples poets

let’s gather round and hold our hands in sorrow for our fallen leader

Love is the answer!  Goodnight

[unicornprincessinthetardis]

My (often relatively reasonable) dad: ...so Enoch Powell was right, what he said has happened.

Me: and you don't think maybe he could've said it without inciting racial hatred and literally saying that in time the rivers might run with the blood of 'native' British people because of immigration, do you?

My dad: no, you're being ridiculous, it had to be said, and there really are areas of cities that are majority black or Muslim now so he was right in his predictions, and it didn't change how things were anyway

Me: *goes away to calm down and read up on the 'Rivers of Blood' speech*

[I already knew some of this but here's a précis for those unfamiliar: in April 1968, in Wolverhampton, UK, a Conservative MP, Enoch Powell, made a speech, about the proposed 'Race Relations Bill' (which subsequently made it illegal to refuse housing/ employment/public services to people on the grounds of race/colour/ ethnic & national origins).

The speech was strongly anti-immigrant, calling for 'voluntary re-emigration' and for moves to be made to stem the tide of immigration, else Britain would be 'overrun' and sooner or later white British people would find themselves fully second-class citizens, and that in some ways they already were. He also talked about a "tragic and intractable phenomenon which we watch with horror on the other side of the Atlantic", which I take to mean immigration in the USA to the similar end of white people no longer being in charge - which in 1968 was so far from the truth, and just horrible baseless fear-mongering, playing on people’s xenophobia and racist prejudice - and compared pro-immigration/anti-discrimination newspapers to the ones that had denied and hid the rise of fascism and threat of war in the 1930s. Plus, he talked about a constituent of his, a woman who lived on a street that had become occupied by mostly black people, who lost her white lodgers and complained to the council for a tax rate reduction because she wouldn't take black tenants, and instead basically got told not to be racist, and presented it as a bad thing that she'd been treated like that.

The speech's common name comes from a phrase he quoted from the Aenid (because he was also a Cambridge-educated classics scholar), 'I seem to see "the River Tiber foaming with much blood"', although he just called it 'the Birmingham speech' and seemed to be surprised by the uproar he caused.]

Me (to self): So it didn't change things did it? How do you explain the attacks against nonwhite people where the attackers literally shouted his name and repeated his rhetoric? Oh, they would definitely have happened if he hadn't made that speech, wouldn't they? And the British people of foreign descent who were so afraid they might be removed from their lives just for not being white they always had cases packed to go? And the fact that experts says he set back progress in 'race relations' by about ten years and legitimised being racist/anti-immigrant in the same way UKIP and some pro-Brexit types have done within the last few years here (fun fact: immediately after the Brexit vote, people were being racially and physically abusive to visibly Muslim and/or South Asian people, telling them to leave because of Brexit, which was of course extreme nonsense because their presence would be nothing to do with the EU, and more likely the British Empire and the Commonwealth, but they were doing it because it seemed suddenly okay to be openly racist, because Nigel Farage and his ilk, and a legally non-binding vote surrounded in lies, said so) and others have done elsewhere, in the US and Europe and Brazil and so many other places.

Powell was interviewed about the speech in 1977 and stood by his views, said that because the immigration figures were higher than those he had been 'laughed at' about in his speech, he was right and now governments didn't want to deal with the "problem", were passing it off to future generations and it would go on until there was a civil war!

He also said he wasn't a 'racialist' (racist) because he believed a "'racialist' is a person who believes in the inherent inferiority of one race of mankind to another, and who acts and speaks in that belief" so he was in fact "a racialist in reverse" as he regarded "many of the peoples in India as being superior in many respects—intellectually, for example, and in other respects—to Europeans." (I mean, I know I can't hold him to our standards but a) that's still racism and b) he did think that mankind was divided into very distinct, probably biologically so, races, which, yes, normal for the time, but the whole 'each with different qualities and ways in which they were better than others' is iffy)

Me: *goes back to Dad to make my point and definitely not get upset* So here are some things that literally happened as a consequence of the 'Rivers of Blood' speech...

So even if he was correct to say what he did (I mean, he wasn't but you have to tiptoe around Dad and I had points to make), he shouldn't have said it the way he did

My dad: so you think the truth should be suppressed? You're only looking at this from one perspective (he thinks he knows better because he was alive at the time and my brother and I weren't despite the fact that we're both into politics and history and, y'know, not into scapegoating, behaving oddly, and laying blame because people are different to us - he and mum also have issues with trans people and we're trying so hard to change their views/behaviours but I'm not sure it's working & that's a whole different story) and there are these areas that really are Muslim-only (because informal lending and wanting to keep the community together is such a crime, right?) and they don't integrate and want to impose Sharia law (only he couldn't remember what it was called right then) and you don't know what it's like (he is an engineer surveyor and travels all over to inspect boilers and cooling systems and all sorts of stuff, and this includes into majority-Black or -Asian (Muslim and otherwise) areas in Birmingham - which is not a no-go area for non-Muslims, I'm a deeply agnostic white woman, it's my nearest big city and I wish I went there more often but it's tricky as I don't drive, public transport is bad/inconvenient, and I have no friends to go with except depression and anxiety [which are worse 'friends' than the ones that I found out only liked me in high school because I always had sweets and snacks at lunch so when I got braces and my mouth hurt too much to eat much of anything which meant I certainly didn't have snacks, they dropped me pretty quickly] so apparently he's the expert on all such matters)

What I wish I'd said: *staying very calm* well, and that's your opinion, I'm going, I've got sewing to finish *leaves*

What actually happened:

Me: have you considered that they are able to buy up areas like that because white people leave because of their prejudice against the 'influx'?

Dad: they buy up great areas because they buy in groups (I think this refers to a sort of community lending thing to be compliant with various parts of Islam? [Please correct me if I'm wrong] which is effectively what building societies/credit unions were, at least to begin with, and he doesn't take issue with those) and want to stay together. Why do they do that? Sikhs don't do that, they buy big houses and aren't bothered about being close together.

Me: different religious ethoses? I don't know... But you do know that they people who want the UK to be a caliphate ruled by Sharia law are just a minority, and that most Muslims would not want that at all, just like you?

Dad: but they still do want it, and it could happen, if there was a charismatic leader,

Me: *incredulous* you know it's about as likely for that to actually happen as for strictly Orthodox Jewish people to be able to make this country into another Israel, right? Besides, there are the police, and the armed forces, and intelligence agencies, not to mention the Government and civil service (thought I'd got a win there, he hates the unchanging upper-class-public-school-Oxbridge nature of the people who effectively really run the government, constant no matter the leaning of the elected party, but no) who have a vested interest in preserving themselves in their current state so would be able to stop anything like that

Dad: yes, but the cutting of funding to police and public services means they might not be able to stop it (I realise now that he's oddly economically left-wing but also really quite socially conservative in some ways)

Me: *getting angry* but it's still an absolute minority, most Muslims would be horrified if it really did happen, and have you ever considered that maybe they wouldn't be so ill-disposed to us and to integration if we didn't demand it of them the moment that they arrive, demand that they assimilate or go away (he often uses the phrase "yes, but they're in somebody else's country, they should make an effort") and maybe young people wouldn't be so easily radicalised and people generally mistrust the people who don't try to understand them, you know, want them to change everything about themselves (for instance, Dad is violently opposed to the burqa etc and not really a fan of the hijab - still doesn't get that it's a choice and people can do what they want because apparently 'anyone could be wearing one of those things' - burqas/niqabs, I presume - and that it must all be forced because who would possibly choose to dress like that - I have half a mind to show him those sites about Christian modest dressing (one was a shop and a lot of their range was pretty cute!) that I once found, just to see if that'll prove to him it is a choice thing) *tries to leave*

Dad: *angry* You stay there and listen to me! You're just looking at it from one perspective and that's not the truth, you're so biased and closed-minded, you only look at things your way!

Me: *furious* Really? Really? Am I? *Scoffs/incredulous exhalation* I'm closed-minded, am I?... *Storms out, shouts as I go* I'm not the one who said Enoch Powell was right!!

This is all heavily paraphrased, because I've been writing this for literal hours now and I was angry and don't remember well at the best of times, it may have been worse than how I'm writing it

Also, going to be tricky to patch up but right now I stand by what I said, because I know my perspective is limited, but at least I actually admit that and try to find out what people different to me think, rather than basing all my opinions and things on my own experiences which can't be universal, as he seems to

Other bs my dad said during the two conversations: "don't get so upset about it, it's only history" (which is bold, considering it was the 50th anniversary this year and he was literally 11 years old when it happened so probably saw/heard news coverage)... "Yes of course far right groups use 'Enoch was right' as a slogan, it doesn't mean anything"... Reiterating the 'nothing changed' thing multiple times... Dismissing the fact that Powell said there'd be a civil war because apparently just because the British/Europeans were aggressive conquerors anyone else who came in numbers anywhere would eventually have that aim and how ridiculous that view actually is... Dismissing the fact that Powell basically incited racial hatred and violence with the inclusion of an irrelevant Classical phrase which spread fear on all sides...

I could go on but I'm so tired and don't want to make myself more upset

I love my parents but I really don't like them very much lately but I don't know if I just put up with it or leave sooner or later and if I do leave I don't know where I'd go because no friends

Basically I'm so sorry for my parents' prejudices which I'm still trying to unlearn myself - I apologise wholeheartedly to all Muslim and Jewish people and honestly pretty much everyone they're prejudiced against

[siwontrash]

Things the Kpop Fandom Should Stop Doing (or really any fandom)

I guess this can be considered a part two to Things I Find Annoying About the Kpop Fandom (I’m not linking it, because I’m happy that I quit getting notifications for it). I’m not saying all Kpop fans are like this- I know plenty that aren’t- but far too many are. I’m a little behind schedule, but this is supposed to be Saturday’s post.

Body shaming an idol. There’s a difference between being concerned for them and body shaming them. If an idol is getting too thin, saying, “You’re too thin. It’s gross and ugly,” is body shaming. Saying, “You’re looking a bit thinner. Please stay safe and healthy,” is actually showing concern. I can understand wanting idols to be healthy, but body shaming is only going to cause an ED and make them self-conscious (sometimes it can lead to depression). Really, don’t mention any idol’s imperfections.

Forcing ships onto people. No matter what evidence you might have, talking to an idol about a ship and seeing if it’s real or if they’ll make it real is uncomfortable, cringey, and prying into that person’s private life. Don’t force your ships onto anyone. If a person doesn’t support your ship, accept that; don’t try making them believe in it.

Thinking your fanbase is innocent/has changed for the better. No fanbase is innocent, especially not the larger ones. We’re all horrible and going to hell. Blinks, Onces, Armys, and Exo-Ls are all still horrible; I’m an Army and Exo-L, but I’m multifandom so that’s probably the only thing keeping me from being insane, along with maturity.

Thinking your fav is innocent of everything. There are certain idols that have done things morally and/or legally wrong. This doesn’t mean that you have to unstan them, but you need to accept whatever it is they did. Denying it and saying that your oppa is innocent and wouldn’t do such a thing is annoying and makes you and your fandom look bad.

Constantly hating on a fandom/artist. Oh, you don’t like an artist or their fandom? Easy. Don’t seek them out/desensitize yourself to them. A lot of you constantly talk about your hatred for Armys and/or BTS, but then you purposely seek them out and/or openly speak about your hatred. You’re opening yourself up to what you claim to hate by doing this. Admittedly, on large platforms like this, you’re bound to come across it; that’s when you become desensitized to it. I personally dislike Wannables, but a lot of blogs I like are part of that fandom; whenever I see something related to Wanna One on my dash, I just skip over it. I don’t get angry or annoyed, because I’ve accepted that I can’t control what fandom people are in and not everyone in said fandom are annoying.

Thinking you have the right to know everything about an idol’s personal life. It’s called a personal life for a reason. It’s supposed to be personal- only known to that one person and only concerning that one person. If you catch yourself wondering if it’s appropriate to ask an idol something, ask yourself how you would feel if somebody asked you that.

Trying to expose an idols’ sexuality. This one really irks me; sometimes people do it to support a ship, other times people have ‘evidence’. If that idol is anything other than hetero, there’s going to be backlash. South Korea is conservative and isn’t very accepting of the LGBT+ community. It’s slowly getting better, but the voices of the close-minded are still much louder than that of the open-minded.

Acting like popular artists are the best. I’m not saying popular artists aren’t good, because most of them are, but there are plenty of underrated artists that are good, if not better. An artist is often underrated because they’re from a small company and/or the company isn’t good at promoting. Sometimes it can be because the artist’s music doesn’t fit Korea’s taste. Korea has a very specific taste and if an artist doesn’t fit it, they can get lost.

Trying to force other people into the fandom. If someone wants to get into it, then go ahead and introduce them to it. If someone hasn’t shown interest in it or has declined your offer to introduce them to it, accept it. Harassing them about it is just going to make them hate Kpop and the fans.

Getting triggered about everything. You know that fandom or artist you hate? Let them breathe. Don’t act like they offended your existence just by breathing. I know, they slapped your mamma and spat in your face, but you gotta get over it.

Being overdramatic about an idol dating. They work so hard to please their fans- including you- so don’t they deserve for someone to return that happiness? To be that one person to comfort them and keep them warm on night? They do, because the stresses of constantly being surrounded by screaming strangers can quickly get to them, constantly putting on a mask of happiness and awakeness adds on to it. Let them date, get married, have children- whatever they want to do. Accept their relationship and don’t abandon them over something so petty.

Thinking an artist has to stick with a certain concept. This works in two different scenarios: when an artist usually does one concept and thinking they have to stick with that one and not explore (sometimes shaming them if they try anything else), and when an artist tries a different one and thinking they have to stick with that one because you like it better. Some examples: Honeymoon by B.A.P, Hobgoblin by CLC, and Fingertip by GFriend. Artists are supposed to explore in order to garner a larger fanbase and to discover what they like best.

Slut shaming female idols. I’m sorry that you’re misogynistic and unhappy, but why force your views onto others? You’re drooling over guys being shirtless, so what’s wrong with Hyuna showing off her beautiful body? I know equality is intimidating but you should try it sometime. It’s a good thing.

Being a Koreaboo. Not all Kpop fans are Koreaboos- I’m not, so it would be confusing if I was saying that??? But calling idols your oppa, unnie, hyung, noona. etc is just unnecessary. It’s fine if you’re talking to them in Korean, because then honorifics should be used. Also stop trying to look Korean if you’re not Korean. You just end up looking creepy and funny as hell.

Unstanning someone because they left their group/company. If someone left their group (or was kicked out... coughcoughcough), it was for good reason. They didn’t wake up one morning and said, “You know what? I need a change in my life. I’m going to leave my company and risk getting sued”. An artist deciding to leave their group or company takes a lot of thinking and bravery, because they don’t want to hurt their fans and fellow members. They’re the same person as they were while in that group; they’re not going to magically become a whole new person. It’s fine if you naturally lost interest in them, but calling them a snake is just ridiculous.

There are probably other things that I forgot, but I’m working on something else. Add on if you’d like.

[unmeanings]

JEAH

TWO HOURS PRIOR

( TXT / Jeyun ) “Your best suit is at the dry cleaner’s” ( TXT / Jeyun ) That one was from Mom ( TXT / Jeyun ) “I’m already home and I’m not fetching your clothes, so figure it out like the big kid you are now” ( TXT / Jeyun ) That one’s from me. Don’t be late 👋

NOW

She’s chasing time, if not by her limbs, then by the way her eyes dart from the hands of the antique cherry grandfather clock in the foyer to her lap and back again. There could be metaphors of perpetual restlessness here, spun pretty to the imagery of beating wings, a blur of dove feathers and whatever else. But there’s nothing inherently lovely about her deep lack of patience, which only ever keeps Jeah on the constant edge of her seat, nude ankle strap heels tap-tap-tapping against the tiles.

Tonight’s game plan: a clean sweep of handshakes, backhanded compliments, handed off flutes of bubbly before it’s hand over hand at the wheel with the car driving the hell out of there. Funny to think back she’d been of the belief that these gatherings would be the last of her troubles, only to find they’re at the very forefront.

With the baby to thank for all of this, naturally.

Heavy lies the head that wears the crown, or something. In other words, responsibilities that most certainly don’t count in her track record.

The whine of the door hinges has Jeah standing, the sigh that escapes her lips something along the lines of Finally. “Awesome.” She grabs the keys and her purse. “Kim’s off for tonight, so it’s on us to get there.” Pause, curious glance over her shoulder. “You got everything?”

JEYUN

( Outgoing → Noona ) Thanks ( Outgoing → Noona ) I’ll see you in a bit

Jeyun is the disciple and fifteen minutes is the monkish chant cycling in his head. Fifteen minutes. He clasps onto a handle on the bullet train. Fifteen minutes is all he needs to get a suit on his person and get his person out the door. He swipes out of the underground. If he arrives home at seven thirty and they leave at seven forty-five they will make it to the venue fifteen minutes before eight thirty. He steps off the escalators and onto the sidewalk just as the sun is beginning to set. It looks beautiful today, shining onto the glass doors of the dry cleaner’s in feathered cuts of silver.

He exchanges receipt for hanger and with suit folded neatly over forearm he walks the full five blocks back to the family apartment, each leggy stride longer than the next. He is greeted with exasperation, but there’s no reason for it. He’s fifteen minutes early.

Still, one can’t afford to dally. “Whoop,” he zips past her small frame and makes a beeline for the bathroom, but the hallway is narrow and his attempt ends up clumsy at best. “I’ll be right out!” Jeyun calls, his voice and frenzied disrobing muffled behind oak.

The baby reemerges, trail of cologne following him like a halo, into the foyer where Jeah waits with lips pressed into a thin line. He slips into the calf leather derbies she’s laid out for him at the door with a sheepish smile, “Sorry, you were saying—” and looks down to the crown of her head as she gathers the keys. There’s a piece of lint by her ear. He picks it off and keeps it between his fingers so he can dispose of it outside. “—joyride?”

Like every time before it, the joke earns him a chilly wave of the hand.

—

The family vehicle’s passenger seat is, at this point, perfectly molded to his sitting form. This too, is part of his fate as the youngest. But there’s another perk—he rests a hand on the volume knob and with one tweak Elgar in E is coursing through every material surface of the car. He pays no mind to his sister. With his other hand, Jeyun browses through texts to confirm the address and inspect the first few restaurant reviews.

“Japanese? Didn’t we do kaiseki last time, too?” He scrolls further down. “Ooh, on second thought. Egg walnut tamagoyaki for dessert. Fall offerings are the best, aren’t they…”

JEAH

Clocking in a little after eight o’ clock, traffic has lightened up significantly.  At a red light, her grip loosens from the wheel and the turn signal is left blinking, fingers drumming idly in wait. This particular concerto conjures memories from the summer of ‘37. Sixteen, sullen, and suffering because of those god-awful scales, and finishing solid in second place. The 2015 Garavaglia is sitting in the corner of her old bedroom, virtually untouched since high school graduation. Selling it? Out of the question.

The light flicks green and the car slows back into motion. “Did we?” With Jeyun’s impeccable habit of tracking minute details, chances are he’s right. And after a good minute, she says, “Oh. Well. All I remember is the sake.” Junmai-shu flooding over her tongue by the cup as it’d been passed over talk of inter-generational politics, nostalgia beyond her years, and the plight of current economy. Big talk for big people, with the matching shoes to step into. "Think it’d kill them to do fusion for a change?”

An afterthought: it actually just might. Guess you can never be too careful with the conservative type at these things.

They veer to the rightmost lane. The digits on the dashboard flip to 8:10. According to the GPS screen underneath, their destination is the second to last building, straight down. “At least I can count on you to spice up the menu when you become head honcho or whatever.” She grins, and there’s that characteristic glint in her eye. “Matter of fact, that should be your first course of business.”

JEYUN

Jeyun had played accompaniment for her, of course—his sister’s trusty steed, finely trained and black coat of fur thick with pomade and brushed back just so. He likes to think that the reason for Jeah’s drop to second that summer had been a result of his absence, as her finger slipped on one of the cadenza’s double stops. However smug the recollection may make him now, his heart had nearly dropped out of his body then. Du Pré moans and groans through the speakers. “You were better,” Jeyun looks straight ahead. “Than first. Choi something.” Choi Kyungil. Current principal cellist of the Berlin Philharmonic. Not that Jeyun was ever the sort of person to search for a person’s whereabouts out of sheer pettiness and over a decade after the fact. “Maybe even better than Jacqueline.” He turns the volume knob up.

“We did,” Jeyun nods. “I’ll have to learn from your example this time around.” Not the drinking part. “And keep myself to a steady nibble.” There’d been so many courses over the course of three hours that he’d barely made it to the okayu without falling backwards for a digestive snooze. Just conjuring up the image of a bowl of porridge is enough to get him queasy and he winces at the possibility of it appearing again on tonight’s offerings. “If it doesn’t kill them then it might kill me,” he says with a bitter laugh. Some years ago a craving for sea urchin had backfired horribly and he’d never been able to look at another risotto the same way ever since. Perhaps all rice dishes had a personal score to settle with him. He should have never let that pot go unattended all those years ago.

The vehicle slows, approaching the valet at the back of the restaurant. A cheery bucktoothed attendant comes to take their place and Jeyun hands him a few of his crispiest bills, ironed last week. He waits for Jeah to join him at the curbside and they round the corner to the front. “You have a point.” Jeyun grins. It’s a known fact at the Oh’s that dad doesn’t have the most refined of palates—courtesy of his outer city upbringing. “I’ll make sure it’s the spiciest so you won’t have any excuses to skip.” They step through the courtyard, greenery abundant and fragrance potent. Then through the first set of doors, wide open. The next set of doors slides quickly open and the proprietress is already there folded over ninety-degrees.

“Ha, ha. Excellent word play, sis.” He steps a slight ways in front of Jeah before the woman leads them past a maze of corridors to their room. It’s something he’s tried to get used to doing but it still feels unnatural and he’s certain Jeah has noticed every time. “I’m sure there will be more pressing things calling for my attention when the time comes.” He lifts his wrist. 8:15 on the dot. Fifteen minutes early. “Things like, how to redecorate the house. Or who to hire to take our Christmas card photo. Unless you’d like to take those responsibilities head on instead.”

JEAH

“You remember his name.” It’s a statement, not a question, complete with the knowing lift of her voice. Half in the sheer perceptibility of Jeyun’s habits, half at how she’s never forgotten herself:

Choi Kyungil.

Even if she closes her eyes and recalls his face now, all there is to see is the cross hair framed perfectly over his side profile. Standing ten feet away with a bouquet of deep red roses and the first place emblem, and the single thought that snaked around the folds of her brain was what if? She’d never held a gun in her entire life, and still hasn’t, but the press of retribution on her hands had been the closest she’d ever gotten to the feeling. Just as cold. Maybe even just as satisfying.

It runs in the family, after all.

Jeah only laughs at his remark. “I don’t think Jackie would appreciate that at all.” The music is cut short. “Dead for over fifty years, and her legacy’s still kickin’.” Pulling the keys out of the ignition, she steps out to hand them to the attendant. “If that isn’t something, I don’t know what is.”

Upon entering, they’re greeted with the scent of jasmine. The establishment is pristine. Lush plants encircle a stone fountain that sits at the center. All details absorbed with vague interest.

Jeah turns to the sight of Jeyun’s back, and is suddenly reminded of a second memory. She’d only been eight then, sitting in their parents’ bedroom. Mom had just clasped a string of pearls around her neck. Dad was pulling on his suit jacket. When they’d been about to exit the room, her mother had placed a hand on the back of his shoulder, and he’d straightened under her touch. By the time she began to do the same to the eldest, herself, and the youngest, Jeah finally understood. The significance of the single, plain gesture.

So she does it in her place: as Jeyun steps in front, a reminder. Hold your head high. Jeah’s hand returns to her side just as promptly as it’d left it, and they walk on.

Inside, the table is set. She takes her place near one of the ends. Fifteen minutes to kill. “You know I’d be the first person to stop the Christmas card thing. Mom would hate me for it.”

A pause, as she ponders the weight of her question. “Who would we send them to, anyway?”

JEYUN

The two acclimate quickly to their surroundings, shedding their coats and handing them off to the hunched proprietress, who murmurs demurely if the lady and sir will have anything to drink while they wait for the rest of their party to arrive. Any gyokuro will do please and thank you, Jeyun hums, and with a delicate shuffling of her feet she is gone as if never there.

Jeyun’s claims the seat across from his sister and at the opposite end of the table, slinging his scarf over the backing of the chair. Build your own presence instead of relying on the collective. Emanate it as far as it will go, until it permeates every corner of the room.

The woman returns with a sizable kettle, glazed shiboridashi, and two thinly thrown teacups on a tray. She pours silently, systematically, and slips out. The fountain just outside their window bubbles on, flow of water gliding down rocks smoothed by years both kind and unkind. Warm in his hands, he gives one of the thimble cups to his sister and gives it an unceremonious clink. The most intentional of cultural blunders to be sure, but no one else has to know.

He lifts the cup to his lips. The broth is pleasingly vibrant and sweet, like taking a stroll through a rainforest. “I thought you might look at it differently. Oh Jeah’s first foray into art direction. It’s only a matter of time.” She’d proved herself as the Oh’s representative visionary based on doodles from childhood. She’d upheld her status at her senior thesis show five years ago. Her decision to venture into law had been something of a curveball—whether she’d done it for herself or with the family in mind, he’d yet to home in on.

“Mom’s got a lock on her contact book. We’d have to pry it out of her own hands first.” He laughs. It’s on the tip of his tongue to list off uncles and aunties and their grandmother who is always the first to call once she’s received her card, gushing about Jeah’s beauty resplendent before she catches herself halfway and states—voice neutralizing to its original contralto—how she couldn’t help but notice Jeah isn’t getting any taller.

No, halmae. She’s twenty-seven this year. Even if her face, unblemished and skin stretched taut and firm, hardly betrays it, her time’s passed. Jeyun unconsciously places two fingers to the patch of skin beneath his left eye. The loose puffiness there is sobering. They’re trudging onward in other ways.

“I’m terrible.” Jeyun says instead. “I can’t think of anyone other than Kyunghoon and Jinwoo. And it’s only because they came to me this morning with news of their engagement. Which is finally a thing, by the way.” Everyone else is a convenient, gray-streaked blur. Lost in a soup of fortissimos, debts, and headcounts.

“Still, I’m not sure anyone actually likes receiving them. At their core they’re just disguised opportunities for moms to boast about their kids, right? Be it in the quality of the photo or the content of the letter. This year our boy James graduated from middle school. He will be attending Daewon in the spring and we wish him all the success in the world! Congrats, James! Or, Chaerin is doing great in her acting career. She filmed in Peru in June and Prague in July! She’s becoming more well-traveled than this old dog!” He frowns. “Come to think of it. What did mom say about us last year? I didn’t get a chance to see before she sent them all out. It couldn’t have been anything remotely interesting.”

JEAH

The cup is held firm between her thumb and pointer, but she doesn’t raise it to taste yet. Under the light, the color of the brew is true to the namesake. From the aroma alone, she’s melting through the seasons quick: March frost receding for fresh, new pastures. Spring just can’t come soon enough.

“Real funny, Jeyun.” He manages to coax an amused look out of her all the same. "Different themes, maybe? With a bit of practice and some sideburns, Dad could have the Scrooge look down to a tee.“ A step up from their usual fanfare: for as long as Jeah can remember, the cards have always came out nearly identical to the ones from the year before it. The same positioning before their ornament-studded Christmas tree, standing tall and poised in their long sleeve knee-length velvet dresses and chunky cashmere sweaters in variations of cardinal red and evergreen. They’re all smiling, or trying to, at least—the photo revealing various degrees of tight-lipped discomfort save for (of course), Mom. Everlasting it seems, in her serene, elegant glow.

"She’s going to do it for as long as she can.” Jeah finally holds up her tea with a sigh. “Upholding tradition and all.” There’s no pause to savor the notes—a turn of the head, and the cup returns to the tray empty. It’s a daunting, but irreversible thought: them growing older, their parents old. Briefly, she wonders if the third person gone without mention goes through the same morning ritual that she does. Waking up to look yourself dead in the eye, and in that slit of startling disconnect between slumber and clarity, you really aren’t you.

But that’s a given in a way, isn’t it?

“Oh wow.” Some good news for a change. “After all that circling around each other, huh?” she chuckles. “There’s Soobin with her new baby too, but I only know that ‘cause Mom told me.” Pretending to know any more beyond that point is a lost cause, one Jeah certainly has no qualms over. Soon they will reach a point in their own lives where the family tree is no longer recognizable, with themselves as the two last branches dangling in the breeze, waiting for the fall. Gruesome. No wonder why Mom wouldn’t let her take on the job.

She resorts to toying with the empty cup. As Jeyun carries on, she can’t help but pick up on the pattern in all of his examples. “You can't possibly be jealous.” A certain playfulness colors her tone, complete with the lifting of the corners of her mouth. Still the baby, ever the baby. The cup is set back down again. "Since you can’t remember, Mom wrote about how she was so happy to have you back home.“ Home: something that spells out another sort of promise.

The sound of approaching footsteps signals the time: 15 minutes up, and this leg of their conversation folds to a close.

Jeah straightens up, parallel to the back of the chair. She takes stock, and the number of heads she ends up with is not a pleasant discovery.

“Hell of a night this’ll be.” She slowly stands to bow in greeting.

Hell of a night indeed.

[adamandbrittanyinhawaii]

Politics In Hawaii

I like to joke with Britt, a little tongue in cheek though it may be, that she is the son my dad always wished he’d had.  She’s the one that chose the same career path and became a lawyer.  She’s the relatively more athletic one having played sports at the college level.  She also flexes her British background and is a bit less sensitive and sentimental than me.  And of course, she is super conservative with her politics and loud about being so. To me it is odd that 2/3 of voters in the U.S. hang their hat on one political party or another because studying economics in college ruined me for being able to see things that way.  I don’t know how to describe my politics other than they are those of an economist.  Having a parent in the world of politics my whole life had the impact on me of wanting to be educated on politics so I could be a useful voter.  However, being involved with different campaigns and never seeing how they impacted my life in any material way made me not really yearn to be involved beyond my citizen’s duty of voting.  To me I see little value in expressing my viewpoints with other voters because they can’t affect change. However, if an elected official through either competence or the complete opposite gets a rise out of me I may decide to communicate my opinions to them.  Is this any more successful or productive than others venting about politics to a neighbor? Based on my experience, probably not, but at least I don’t put myself under a label where someone judges me, for better or for worse, about my politics.  If I learned anything from seeing my dad in action it is that the most strategic move in politics is to not create enemies.  I think that should apply in our relationships to others as Christians too.  I think from a Christian stand point, politics are so polarizing that to be super vocal about your opinion one way or another makes you very likely to be labeled by your political stance ahead of being labeled a Christian.  That political label casts a large shadow and will envelop your stance on Jesus.  Can one kill their witness any more quickly than with politics?  I really don’t think so. I say that writing to elected officials in my experience isn’t all that useful because I’ve never heard back from any before a recent encounter.  I wrote to a Hawaiian senator recently laying out why I thought the Jones Act is irrational for Hawaii, how expensive it is for Hawaiians and inquiring what opposition there could possibly be for Hawaiian representatives in Congress to push for this 97 year old act to be repealed.  After all, Hawaii wasn’t even a state when this act was made!  I got a horrible response that sounded like an intern wrote it just explaining back to me what the Jones Act was and thanking me for my note.  What a waste of everyone’s time!  And on top of it all, that’s the only time I’ve even gotten a response!  All of this is really a long prelude to a short story about politics in Hawaii.  As you may know, the politics here can be called liberal.  The Democratic primary is the only competitive race here as running under the Republican label is a waste of time.  The history of why that is can be explained another time.  They called the state of Hawaii in the last presidential election before the polls even closed!  And during the primaries Bernie Sanders never even visited Hawaii and won the election by 40 points!!!!!  Talk about feeling the Bern! Politics here are so far to the left that people just assume everyone has the same general vantage point.  During business meetings with higher executives in the days following the election people were routinely bemoaning the results of Trump’s victory.  In the office!  My boss and coworker have done the same, even in weekly manager meetings with direct reports!  Such a sharp contrast to living in Ohio which is such a swing state that you would never dream of blasting out your opinion on such things in the open to strangers whose opinions you are unaware of.  Here in Hawaii though people just fire away! So you might be thinking well Adam that is just your one-off experience.  Not so!  The most astonishing example was at a recent company wide meeting where the CEO was giving a business update they opened it up to Q&A and the first question was about the president.  Now at first, he sort of just gave an answer that really doesn’t say anything, but then proceeded to launch into exactly how he feels about the president.  Amazing!  I thought that was taught in Being a CEO 101 courses nationwide that you just dodge such questions.  Yet in Hawaii when the majority is so large you can feel comfort in sounding off because you know it will be largely greeted.  I would go so far as to say that it isn’t even controversial out here to be liberal and vocal about it at work because that opinion is so widely shared.  I just find it quite amusing that people speak in such terms. That being said, Hawaii is great for the fact that since it isn’t a swing state and national elections are called before polls are even closed out here, you don’t get inundated with ads during campaign season.  Elections just flutter on past without notice.  It is quite pleasant.  But as we economists say, there is no such thing as a free lunch so the tradeoff is politics being shared in very non-politically correct settings.  Oh well!